I’m the kind of person that, when I say no, I usually mean it. No, really. I will generally consider whatever the request is, process it in my own logical way, come to the conclusion that is best for me or those around me, then put forth my answer. And when it’s no…..it’s no.
There’s a point to all this. Just bear with me.
Like I was saying, no means no. We’ve all heard that saying. It’s been used in court, it’s been used when raising children, it is often used by teachers with students. When the word ‘no’ escapes my lips, there are very few occasions that I can think of that it will change to ‘yes’. Unless you are very convincing, and I mean VERY, then I won’t change my answer.
The caveat to this of course is that when I change my mind for whatever reason that suits me, it usually won’t be for any reason that will make sense to you. Sometimes it’s for spite. Other times, it’s self-interest. Often, it’s because I was made an offer I just couldn’t refuse. But, as previously indicated, no most often just means no.
I’m getting to the point. Almost there.
Being possessed of a mule-like obstinacy, when pushed to change my answer, I’m more likely to go in the opposite direction. Little ‘no’ becomes big ‘NO’. When pushed more, big ‘NO’ becomes a little more, shall we say, coloured. No usually then starts with an ‘F’, then sometimes ends with ‘off’ or ‘you’. I can’t help it….it’s my nature. I come from a long line of obstinate people, and have even married a person who matches, and sometimes exceeds, my donky-ness. I think of it as a compliment to Anne that she cannot be pushed around, and it has saved us more than once. I’ve had to pop Tums, mind you, but she is my idol in this domain.
Okay. It’s time for my point. Sorry it took so long.
Telemarketers and salespersons who phone me when I don’t want them to (which is ALWAYS) hold a special place in my heart. I’ve added my name and phone number to the national ‘Do Not Call’ list. I’ve added my business and cell number to this list. I’ve considered getting a tattoo devoted to this subject placed strategically on my body that would leave no ambiguity whatsoever as to my disdain for these consistently annoying individuals.
And yet, despite all this ‘do not call list’ protection, they call. Often. And despite my saying ‘no’ over and over and over, they continue to pester me. They want to know if I’d consider changing internet providers. They want to know if want a ‘free’ trip. Am I interested in their credit card? Do I want to be exfoliated by armless Peruvian nuns with a penchant for mischief? And invariably, my answer is no.
But then, being as it is their nature to persist with their queries, just to make sure I had heard them correctly the first ten times, they keep pushing, attempting to obtain a positive answer instead of a negative one. If they had the luxury of having read this article before calling me, perhaps they would have just given up. But, alas, such is not the case. And, now, as it is my nature to make it perfectly clear that my answer will not change, I take the offensive. Often, I become offensive doing so. And I’m pretty sure that in some of these call centers, there’s a book with my name in it that tells one and all that if you want to have fun making someone mad, call Bill.
Just what part of ‘no’ do they not understand? I mean, I used to use other, more ‘fun’ tactics (fun to me, at least), such as talking in French to an English person, talking in English to a French person, making up an entirely different language if they are bilingual (this takes practice but it is SO worth it). I’ve pretended to be bankrupt, impotent, legless, blind, deaf, and on one memorable occasion, just out of a coma. But Anne thinks I’m being mean when I do this. So now, I’m just a grump.
So, after all this time, I still sneak in the odd ‘yes’ just to mix things up. A lady called me up and asked if I wanted to buy a bunch of extended warranties for appliances we had recently purchased, and I just kept saying ‘yes’ to everything. She must have thought she hit the jackpot. Commission heaven. But, when she mentioned what the cost was, and I asked ‘you mean I have to PAY for these?’, you almost literally could hear the air rushing out from her balloon. Poor thing. That was mean.
Oh, well.
Bill's Musings 