NB: The following is true to the best of my memory.
I really ought to be more careful about giving out my phone number on street surveys that I do from now on.
On my way home, I received a phone call on my cell. Thinking it could be The Boyfriend (always important) or my mum (also pertinent that I answer the call), I fished for my phone while trying my best not to get tangled in the wires of my NEW! Creative Zen Neeon. (I couldn't resist.)
The number displayed on my cellphone was unfamiliar. Was it from the office? But at this hour? Couldn't be.
"Hello?" said I.
"Hello, good evening," came the muffly reply on the other side. Then, expectant silence.
"... Hello?" again, said I.
"Good evening."
Oh, okay lady, I get it. "Good evening."
"Yes, my name is Angel, I'm calling from Lifestyle Shopping. Do you remember completing any lucky draw form?"
And truthfully, I told, "No."
Her indignant reply: "No? What do you mean no? That you don't remember filling one up or that you didn't?"
"Well yes I do, but I'm always filling up lucky draw coupons." And I started putting up my defenses. Still, I was curious, and decided to play along.
"Well I am calling to inform you that you are one of 20 people to win our consolation prizes." Continuing in a highly scripted voice, and without waiting for me to respond (or maybe she sensed that I wasn't going to), she said, getting even more muffled like she was doing this in a place and/or time she wasn't supposed to, "You have won three items. (The first I forgot,) a luxury European timepiece worth $150, and a *muffly-muffled* trip to Thailand *muffly* eight to nine days worth *muffly* thousand dollars." A triumphant pause.
Ohhhhh, now I see where we're going. I decided to help her cut to the chase. "So I'm supposed to come down, but before I get my prizes I must listen to some seminar, right?"
This was right about when the lady started getting huffy. "We are not a timeshare or holiday chalet company, ma'am, nothing like that," the impatience in her voice getting obvious. Boy, this woman must've had a lot of rejected calls today. But so was I, so I told her that I thought she had a lousy attitude.
"When did I ever say we are a timeshare company, ma'am?" Blah. Blah blah blah blah blah.
Okay, fine. "So can you tell me where I filled in this form?"
Highly rehearsed voice: "Ma'am, I told you, it could be from any shopping centre, petrol kiosk, movie theatre, there are thousands and thousands of them, how can I tell you which? You are one of 20 people picked out from a thousand, how can we keep track of where you filled up your form?"
"So where did you say your office was?"
"Delfi Orchard."
"And what's your company called?"
"Lifestyle (something something, I can't remember)."
"I can forfeit my gifts, right?"
"Yes you can ma'am."
"Okay."
Silence.
More silence.
"Is there anything else?" I queried.
"So ma'am, do you want to come and pick up your prizes?"
"No, I'm going to forfeit them."
Too quickly, and in a fake-happy voice, "Okay, thank you, bye!"
Bitch, did you really think I was going to fall for that sorry excuse of a dupe? Dream on.
I really ought to be more careful about giving out my phone number on street surveys that I do from now on.
On my way home, I received a phone call on my cell. Thinking it could be The Boyfriend (always important) or my mum (also pertinent that I answer the call), I fished for my phone while trying my best not to get tangled in the wires of my NEW! Creative Zen Neeon. (I couldn't resist.)
The number displayed on my cellphone was unfamiliar. Was it from the office? But at this hour? Couldn't be.
"Hello?" said I.
"Hello, good evening," came the muffly reply on the other side. Then, expectant silence.
"... Hello?" again, said I.
"Good evening."
Oh, okay lady, I get it. "Good evening."
"Yes, my name is Angel, I'm calling from Lifestyle Shopping. Do you remember completing any lucky draw form?"
And truthfully, I told, "No."
Her indignant reply: "No? What do you mean no? That you don't remember filling one up or that you didn't?"
"Well yes I do, but I'm always filling up lucky draw coupons." And I started putting up my defenses. Still, I was curious, and decided to play along.
"Well I am calling to inform you that you are one of 20 people to win our consolation prizes." Continuing in a highly scripted voice, and without waiting for me to respond (or maybe she sensed that I wasn't going to), she said, getting even more muffled like she was doing this in a place and/or time she wasn't supposed to, "You have won three items. (The first I forgot,) a luxury European timepiece worth $150, and a *muffly-muffled* trip to Thailand *muffly* eight to nine days worth *muffly* thousand dollars." A triumphant pause.
Ohhhhh, now I see where we're going. I decided to help her cut to the chase. "So I'm supposed to come down, but before I get my prizes I must listen to some seminar, right?"
This was right about when the lady started getting huffy. "We are not a timeshare or holiday chalet company, ma'am, nothing like that," the impatience in her voice getting obvious. Boy, this woman must've had a lot of rejected calls today. But so was I, so I told her that I thought she had a lousy attitude.
"When did I ever say we are a timeshare company, ma'am?" Blah. Blah blah blah blah blah.
Okay, fine. "So can you tell me where I filled in this form?"
Highly rehearsed voice: "Ma'am, I told you, it could be from any shopping centre, petrol kiosk, movie theatre, there are thousands and thousands of them, how can I tell you which? You are one of 20 people picked out from a thousand, how can we keep track of where you filled up your form?"
"So where did you say your office was?"
"Delfi Orchard."
"And what's your company called?"
"Lifestyle (something something, I can't remember)."
"I can forfeit my gifts, right?"
"Yes you can ma'am."
"Okay."
Silence.
More silence.
"Is there anything else?" I queried.
"So ma'am, do you want to come and pick up your prizes?"
"No, I'm going to forfeit them."
Too quickly, and in a fake-happy voice, "Okay, thank you, bye!"
Bitch, did you really think I was going to fall for that sorry excuse of a dupe? Dream on.
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