This page ©2001
Chip Brown.

Tele Me More

I think I'm the only person in Tennessee not to have signed up on that "Don't Call" list for telemarketers. Fact is, I like telemarketers. I have caller ID so I know when it's family calling...I can ignore them. But I always answered "out of areas" because I knew they were telemarketers, it's just fun sport.

Last year I wrote an article about some of my experiences with telemarketers. Now I have one that's so mad at me they call three times a day just to hang up on me!

So far I've told telemarketers I am an arsonist in the process of burning Chip's home. I told one I was a burgular and asked if the telemarketer knew where the Browns kept the "good stuff." What can be more fun than that?

My wife answered the phone for a telemarketer once. Once was all it took for her. Those of you who know my wife know her as a kind, never say anything bad about people sort of person. She answers the phone and I saw it was a telemarketer. I yelled as loud as I could, and I quote..."Woman, if'n yous' talkin to that boyfriend of your's again I'm a whupin your butt."

Well, as you can imagine she was quite embarrassed. Sat there on the couch for an hour just saying, "I can't believe he did that" over and over again. She's been married to me 14 years now, you'd think she would expect it of me. But on the same hand you would think she would have developed a sense of humor too. She hasn't.

Yes there was a butt whupin' in the house that night, only I was on the receiving end of it. She tells me that when her doctor calls to confirm an appointment their number shows up "out of area" too. Ever since that day the doctor walked in and caught me playing with the blood pressure thingy in the exam room, she's been a bit touchy about what I say and do around her doctors.

My wife just doesn't get good humor. Just because that doctor won't see me any more, doesn't mean he didn't think it was funny. I offered to pay for the blood pressure thing, although I suspect an inner tube patch would have fixed it.

So now my wife won't let me answer the phone any more. If someone calls and she's not home I have to just let it ring. So, no more telemarketer fun.

Fortunately, we live on a road where once a week the Jehovah's Witnesses come by. They must think the whole road is a bunch of sinners. Maybe they read my columns. But since I can't talk to the telemarketers any longer, I've decided to pester anyone who comes to my door. Doesn't matter if they're trying to save my soul or sell me a vacume cleaner.

I intend to have a note beside the door written in crayon and some rope. When they knock I'm going to throw open the door with my hands bound by rope, hand them the note and slam the door. The note will say something along the lines of "I'm being held hostage by rebels, send help."

If my wife catches me she won't let me do it so keep your traps shut. But even if she does I have a backup plan. I'll pour fake blood all over myself and when I open the door I'll ask the person if they're there after the liver? I'll explain that it took me longer to find a suitable donor than I expected. I'll then hand them a leaky plastic bag full of icky cow parts.

It's an evident fact my wife can't watch me 24 hours a day!

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