Michael wasn't a telemarketer. He was an upper-middle-class kid, who'd worn a suit to a career fair last spring and had landed a job with a company that didn't do much of anything worthwhile.
Because the price was right, he'd knowingly accepted a job that accomplished nothing of any value, while with a good conscience he'd bought lies and proceeded to tell them himself. And he was just so typical.
He had to be fresh out of Grainger Hall or some identical such place, and sometime between the day of his graduation and today he'd gotten a hold of my phone number. And then he called me, and then he lied to me before I even got a chance to be honest.
\I've heard from other students at UW-Madison that you have the leadership skills, the determination and the academic background to succeed in an intense corporate training program,"" Michael had said, and I interrupted him at that.
If I wasn't sure Michael was a complete jackass, I'd have hung up before he'd even finished his first sentence. But I needed to set him straight and let him know I wasn't someone who ""other students"" would refer him to.
I wanted to explain myself, but Michael just kept blabbering in his authoritative corporate tone. He was trying to make it seem as though he was doing me a favor, but he wasn't. And, he never gave me the names of the students who had so highly recommended me.
""I'm with the South-Western Educational Publishing Company,"" he'd said. ""And we've been interviewing on campus all week. We have a few openings left, and...""
""And, no,"" I said.
I wanted to tell him to get a life, but instead I told him I wasn't interested in letting his stupid company waste mine. But he didn't understand, and I knew he wouldn't. Michael wasn't the understanding type; he was the get-rich type.
""What? Have you heard bad things about South-Western?"" Michael asked.
""I don't know, Mike,"" I replied. ""But we all have our own definitions of the word 'bad,' and my definition doesn't quite fit.""
My definition was much milder than that of the word I'd use to describe companies like South-Western, and I couldn't find my word. I couldn't find a lot of words, and I was far too nice to Michael.
I'm always too nice on the phone. I always feel bad for the people who are harassing me, and I'm sure most often they get people who yell at them or slam phones on them.
I always imagine telemarketers as working for big telephone companies or other equally sleazy operations simply because it's the only job they can get. They're just victims of the system, while with Michael, I felt like I was talking to the system.
Michael was calling me so he could use me later. He wanted to make money off of me, yet before he had even called me he surely had expected to get turned down.
He surely called a lot of people that night, and I hope he got a lot of rude hang-ups, but he has thick skin. And at some point along the line he got through to some people who are just like him, and he'll be doing them a favor.
andrewmiller@students.wisc.edu
