It’s Monday and for some reason that really got to me today. (See my previous blog and you will get my train of thought). It was a busy day and by the time I had taken Perdy for her walk down at the bay, I was ready for a peaceful evening; I had some movies recorded on ‘Mysky) and a very tasty meal ‘saved’ from Saturday night. On the way home from the bay, I imagined the delicate flavours of my lemon chicken and veggie dish. Isn’t it always more flavoursome a day (or two) days later? I also had a half bottle of an excellent NZ Pinot Gris to savour waiting for me. So my evening was all ‘planned.’ I had given Perdy her brisket bone and fed Jasmine the cat. Maybe, just maybe, my Monday night was going to make up for my ‘stretched’ day.
I was sipping on my wine while Perdy was savouring her bone. Even Jasmine was content to go back and beg the neighbours for some extra food. The phone rang. Must be my sister, I thought. We are going to my brother’s new house in Hamilton on Saturday and yes, you’ve got it right--- we are going to have a celebration lunch, complete with a very expensive bottle of either NZ or Aussie wine. See—I’m not ignoring other possibilities, other than NZ wine).
The conversation went something like this:
Caller----‘Am I speaking to Mr Coleman?’
Caller-----‘We are in your area this week and we are offering a free quotation for heat pumps and insulation.’
Me------I shall save you time dear (OMG—How patronizing!)
Caller—‘Oh---that’s good—well--- (Right you get the picture, so I won’t prolong my little description).
I returned to my half empty glass of wine, satisfied that my evening could continue. No such luck. Perdy started a racket that can only be described as ‘doggie manic.’ Seriously, she sounded like we are about to be robbed or worse. I have learnt that such behaviour on Perdy’s part is just to let me know that someone is at the gate. Now I don’t want to put you off your dinner, or lovely NZ wine that you going to try out, but I was dressed in T-shirt and underwear, totally trying to relax. I peeked out through the curtains and yes--- a young guy was about to enter Perdy’s domain, tentatively trying to open the gate; still unsure if my tiny little dog posed nay threat. I ran to the bedroom and put on some shorts. Hell--- I didn’t want the guy to think that I was some sort of deviant who spends his time wandering around the house dressed or undressed---Oh shit--- you get the idea.
Once the guy saw that I was going to protect him from Perdy’s gnashing jaws, he seemed to relax a little. Here’s the conversation:
Guy----‘Good evening sir,’ he said with a pronounced accent---Damn he will think I’m rude if I ask him to repeat everything he said.
Me----‘How may I help you,’ I said in a slightly strained voice. My wine was waiting and I was also about to stick my Lemony succulent chicken in the microwave. I’m summarizing the conversation here.
Guy----‘I’m with (I won’t mention the company—actually I hadn’t heard of it) and I can help you save money on your electricity bill.’
Me----‘I don’t think so mate--- I’ve signed up for three years---I have my price frozen so any increase in price, like my company has just implemented won’t affect me.’
Guy----‘Oh that’s not correct sir—‘
Me ---- (a tad annoyed) ‘I assure you I am correct, so there’s not much point in pursuing this—is there.’
Guy--- ‘But your company has just put the price up.’ (God Almighty--- didn’t he hear what I just said!?)
Me----‘You’re wasting your time mate----I know what ‘I’m talking about----‘
Me----‘Goodbye----Try someone else.’ I walked back inside, making sure that Perdy was with me. The guy stood at the gate for a few seconds and was about to say something as I shut the curtains. He was going next door, so Perdy took the opportunity to restart her demented barking, thus alerting the neighbours that it was now their turn.
I decided that it was time to re-heat my dinner. The wine had given me quite an appetite. I was about to take my meal form the microwave when the phone rang. It must be my sister, I thought. That was OK, because our conversations are not the convoluted ones that waste time. Yes--- we can talk for ages, but never around dinner time. We both seem to know that. You guessed it--- it wasn’t her. Here we go again:
Caller-----‘Good evening Sir—Am I speaking to Mr Coleman?’ My brain wanted to respond in a less than polite fashion. I struggled between letting rip and feeling sorry for the caller. After all--- They are only doing their job and maybe if I gave them ‘what for, it would truly stuff-up their day. I took a big breath.
Me-----‘Y eeeeessss--- what do you want?’
Caller---- (a Lady this time) ---- Sorry to bother you Mr Coleman,’ (liar liar—your pants are on fire!). I’m ringing with a special offer from our company------‘
Me-----‘an energy supplier, I take it.’
Caller-----well yes, but -----
Me----‘Look I don’t want to be rude and it’s not your fault that you are the fifth caller tonight (Now I’m the liar) and no---- I don’t want to change my company. Could you please make sure that you don’t ring again------!
I put the phone down, quite heavily, because Perdy jumped. Damn, maybe I should get her to answer the phone. God help the next ‘salesperson’ to ring. I was more than ready for them and my gloves were off. I no longer felt any sympathy for them. My mind flicked to a possible sign I could place on the gate, alongside the ‘My Jack Russell lives here.’ I could add, ‘And she eats bloody salespeople!’
What can I do about the phone calls? I know there is a number that you can ring to get your name on a ‘no ring list,’ but I haven’t heard that it is failsafe. The evil part of my brain (yes we all have it, but we don’t all let it win!) was playing out scenarios about what the next caller would endure. OG bugger! I’m hungry and I am goin g to have a second glass of that wine---what was it called?