Waiting to be Conned

I have just experienced a new level of raw, unadulterated chutzpa.

My phone rang, and a recorded female voice informed me that my car’s warranty had expired and that I should press “one” to talk to their representative about a warranty extension, or “two” to be removed from their list. Ok, so far, the usual. You have probably received similar recorded pitches for extended car warranties, Caribbean cruises, or insurance. This was probably the tenth extended warranty pitch I had received, having pushed “two” each time to get myself off the list. This time I decided to press “one” to talk to a human being and get them to actually take me off their list. I did so, and got the usual recorded message about how my call might be monitored or recorded for quality control.

Then they put me on hold. A tinny version of a Frank Sinatra classic played in the background, interrupted periodically by the assurance that my call was important to them and that I would soon be talking to the next available customer service representative.

Wait a goddamned second. I’m not some desperate software owner trying to deal with the inevitable failure of a beta test program served up as a product. I’m not a sick person trying to actually get some health coverage for the wads of cash I’ve sent in to my insurance company. I am, as far as they know, a potential customer, the Holy Grail of telemarketing. By pressing “one” I have signaled that I am a sucker, a buffoon, one of P.T. Barnum’s favorite morons, credit card at the ready, waiting to be fleeced.

And they put me on hold. How much contempt do they have for their victims? Not content to merely separate us from our money, they want us to wait on hold for that privilege. I sat there for a minute with my jaw down, listening to Old Blue Eyes and a string section before I dropped the phone back on the hook.

I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised. If they have enough contempt for the public to interrupt our day with a hailstorm of bunko propositions, then why not inconvenience us that much more and save on operator wages?

I mentioned this experience to a friend and he said “Of course they put you on hold.” His thesis was that they don’t want to waste their time on rational individuals. Putting people on hold separates those who are truly desperate to burn their cash from those with a “Let’s see” attitude. It sounds cynical enough to be real.

There is an answer to all this, short of the mother of all lawsuits. (Believe me, if I had infinite time and money I would sue them for disturbing the peace with commercial speech and take it all the way to the Supremes.) Telemarketers use so-called predictive dialers, computers with programs that filter out unwanted numbers. One sign of an unwanted number is that rising boo-dee-beep tone you hear when you call a number no longer in service. If you put that tone at the very beginning of the message on your answering machine, then any digital dialer that gets your message will note that your number is no longer in service and expunge it from its database. I used to have this on my phone message, and I am going to again.

You only have to put the first tone in, actually. If you are adept with computers, edit it down. If not, find an average 14-year-old to do it for you. You can download the tone here. Turn up the speakers on your computer, rerecord your message with the tone, and in time you will enjoy peace. At least in terms of the telephone.

Afterthought: I am going to put a shortcut to the SIT tone on my computer desktop so that if I am working at the computer and pick up a telemarketing call I can just click the icon, hold the phone to the computer speaker, and bid that phone list goodbye.