The Minnesota Orchestra is Stalking Me
My familial household establishment made a brilliant decision a couple years ago to not get our home phone number put on the "Do-Not Call List". It's all well and good for my father, who enjoys having Pakistani men call and offer him low-equity rates and trips to Orlando a couple times every hour, but for the rest of my family, it's sort of a bother.
Most of these calls show up on the caller-ID as "Out of Area", which we always answer in hopes that its one of our non-Midwestern family members or friends calling from out of state. But as surprising as the sunrise it is alas Middle-Eastern men informing us that we've been chosen for low-equity rates and trips to Orlando.
One thing I find particularly disturbing about these poor telemarketers, is the deafening background noise and commotion that is always going on behind them somewhere. I'm sure there are about a thousand of them in a room, being whipped and spat on by some sort of Dickensian authority figure. But why do I hear screeching of gears, yelling in Arabic and Farsi and what sounds like the dull moans of bodily probing? I understand they are in some huge office somewhere, but why does it sound like a 1920s meat-proccessing plant as described by Upton Sinclair?
Besides the telemarketing feeding-frenzy our family has inspired, poor ol' me receives about three or four calls a week from the Minnesota Orchestra, pleading with me like a spurned lover with lame deals for lame concerts.
"Sir, would you like to buy nine tickets for the price of five for the upcoming MozartFest 2006?"
"No. Thank you though..."
"I see you attended a concert three months ago. Did you enjoy it?"
"Ye..."
"Great. How bout this? On December 21st, Manheim Steamroller will be 'rolling' into town to celebrate the holiday season with late 1980s synthesizers and electric violins. We have a great deal for you. You buy three tickets for this concert, and we will personally send Minnesota Orchestra cellist Dale Young to come to your house and caress you and speak sweet nothings in your ear."
"What?!"
"The love that doth not speak its name, sir."
"I have to go now."
"(self-inflicted gunshot wound.)"
Apparently they have me on some list because I went to a couple of concerts this year (as I do every year). I'm sure I made some mistake when ordering the tickets and clicked "Yes" in the Bother me daily in my personal life checkbox.
Wonk wonk wonk!
My familial household establishment made a brilliant decision a couple years ago to not get our home phone number put on the "Do-Not Call List". It's all well and good for my father, who enjoys having Pakistani men call and offer him low-equity rates and trips to Orlando a couple times every hour, but for the rest of my family, it's sort of a bother.
Most of these calls show up on the caller-ID as "Out of Area", which we always answer in hopes that its one of our non-Midwestern family members or friends calling from out of state. But as surprising as the sunrise it is alas Middle-Eastern men informing us that we've been chosen for low-equity rates and trips to Orlando.
One thing I find particularly disturbing about these poor telemarketers, is the deafening background noise and commotion that is always going on behind them somewhere. I'm sure there are about a thousand of them in a room, being whipped and spat on by some sort of Dickensian authority figure. But why do I hear screeching of gears, yelling in Arabic and Farsi and what sounds like the dull moans of bodily probing? I understand they are in some huge office somewhere, but why does it sound like a 1920s meat-proccessing plant as described by Upton Sinclair?
Besides the telemarketing feeding-frenzy our family has inspired, poor ol' me receives about three or four calls a week from the Minnesota Orchestra, pleading with me like a spurned lover with lame deals for lame concerts.
"Sir, would you like to buy nine tickets for the price of five for the upcoming MozartFest 2006?"
"No. Thank you though..."
"I see you attended a concert three months ago. Did you enjoy it?"
"Ye..."
"Great. How bout this? On December 21st, Manheim Steamroller will be 'rolling' into town to celebrate the holiday season with late 1980s synthesizers and electric violins. We have a great deal for you. You buy three tickets for this concert, and we will personally send Minnesota Orchestra cellist Dale Young to come to your house and caress you and speak sweet nothings in your ear."
"What?!"
"The love that doth not speak its name, sir."
"I have to go now."
"(self-inflicted gunshot wound.)"
Apparently they have me on some list because I went to a couple of concerts this year (as I do every year). I'm sure I made some mistake when ordering the tickets and clicked "Yes" in the Bother me daily in my personal life checkbox.
Wonk wonk wonk!
posted by PWS at 5:40 PM
3 Comments:
funny stuff. Just put yourself on the do not-call list yourself. You can do it online. Thats what i did for my house.
Hi Patrick,
I loved this one! I laughed like a million times.
"But as surprising as the sunrise"
You're so clever...I loved it all dearly. :)
I hope you're well.
Happy Thursday!
Love,
~ Ash
If they really want to sell to you, maybe you can leverage their offer. Say: "I'll buy a pair of subscriptions if you add a couple of Faure pieces and some late Stravinsky to the next season."
That said, if any offer includes a toaster oven, take it right away. A student can always use a toaster oven. Sexual favors are nice while they last, but a toaster oven is a bonus that will keep giving.
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