[JohnR]

Very good stuff

MOST PEOPLE get annoyed when salesmen call during dinner. Not at my house. We love it. A call from somebody hawking burial plots or new long-distance service may interrupt the meal, but it also gives us a chance to play Scare the Solicitor, my family's favorite parlor game. The object is to say something so disturbing, so bizarre, to a telemarketer that he'll never call again, maybe even give up phone sales for good. It's harder than it sounds.

"Hi, Mr. Carlson, this is Brandon Mink, from Merrill Lynch." "Hi." (Voice sounds kind of familiar. Do I know this guy?)

"Mr. Carlson, if you have a second, I'd like to talk to you about some important investment opportunities."

"Well, to tell you the truth, Brandon, I can't. I'm kind of busy. I'm having my other leg amputated in the morning. Got to pack for the hospital."

(Pause. Nervous chuckle.) "You're kidding, right?"

"Unfortunately not." (Did he just ask me if I was kidding?) "Had the other one taken off last year. Terrible experience. Just when I was getting used to one prosthesis, they're getting me another. I'm not looking forward to it."

"Wow. Sorry. Well, listen, would you have time to talk when you get out?"

"Actually, Brandon, I'm going out of town after I leave the hospital. Headed up to Minnesota for a couple of months. Going to get some experimental therapy, see if I'll ever walk again. I won't be back till March."

"Hmm. Okay. Well, maybe I Could call you then. Will you be at this number?"

Sound callous? Not by the standards of the people who call my house. (Though, to be fair, Brandon from Merrill Lynch did write a follow-up note a few days later. "If your spirits stay high," he wrote in ballpoint at the bottom of the investment pitch, "you'll never be low.")

Just the other night, Sherri from Rollins Protective Services dialed up to see if I wanted to buy some fantastically expensive alarm system. So I told her I was blind.

"Legally blind?" she asked. "Oh, totally blind," I said. "I was young, a chemistry set blew up in my face."

From across the room my wife grimaced, as if to say I was going too far. Which I was, but then so was Sherri.

"Well, we have a model for the visually impaired," Sherri offered hopefully. "It doesn't have Braille, but the buttons are raised. Alarms are especially important for the handicapped." She didn't miss a beat. "If your house caught fire, the alarm would wake you up and the fire department would come and lead you outside."

She almost had me. "I'm not sure," I said, "I have this terrible drinking problem. I don't think I'd wake up even if the alarm went off." "Well," she countered, "the firemen would just carry you out."

Clearly nothing was going to deter this woman. Finally, in a desperate move, I slammed the handset against the wall, made a yelping sound and muttered something about hitting my head on a kitchen cabinet. Got to go, I said.

But she ignored me. "Could I at least come over and show it to you?" she pleaded. "Show it to me?" I harrumphed with what was rapidly becoming real indignation. "I'm blind."

Over the years, I've tried just about every disease and physical deformity I could think of on phone solicitors, the whole gamut from kidney dialysis and advanced melanoma to more esoteric maladies like lupus and Hansen's Disease. When Greenpeace canvassers would show up at our door begging for money, I'd stare at them in bovine incomprehension without saying a word. Taking their clipboard, I'd write, "I am a deaf-mute" in big, scrawly letters and keep staring. Usually, they'd get uncomfortable and leave quickly (though one patient volunteer spent 10 minutes trying to explain acid rain to me in hand gestures).

But all of these were just short-term solutions. What I really needed was something to scare them off for good, some way to get blacklisted by phone salesmen. By the time Citibank called last summer hoping to hook me on a new credit bargain, I thought I had it all figured out.

"Would you like to take advantage of our new Credit Value Plus Voucher Savings Plan today?" the woman asked.

"Of course, I'd love to," I said. "But I don't know if I should. My future's kind of up in the air at this point. I'd better wait to find out what happens with my appeal."

"Your appeal?"

"Yeah, I'm out on bond right now. Maybe you read about it--I killed three people in a drug-related murder spree a couple of years ago. I'm out now trying to beat the charges. And it's expensive. You wouldn't believe what lawyers cost. So I really don't think I should take advantage of the offer till I win my case."

"l know you're innocent," she said perkily.

"I'm not. I definitely did it. But I'll probably get off anyway. This is America."

"Good luck!" she said.