We have a family secret. It’s so shameful, it’s difficult to admit. We have decided the best way to deal with it is to just bring it out in the open and share it in hopes that others will understand and forgive. Today, we confess to you that our son -- our beloved first-born child whom we have entrusted with the proud Wier name -- is a telemarketer.
Give me a chance to explain, please. Although he’s in the throws of teenagerhood at 17, he isn’t really a bad boy. In fact, this new development in his life is totally unexpected. Chase has always been a mild and unobtrusive child. When he was young, we never caught him making prank calls or sneaking to use the phone without permission. Even as a teenager, he was loath to spend long on the telephone. We never saw it coming.
Looking back though, I feel I’m to blame. It was my idea to get him a cell phone when he turned 15. I’m the one that got him free nights and weekends. I’m the one who showed him the benefits of rollover minutes. I taught him the freedom of talking on the phone without regard to location or time. I never thought it would lead to this; I swear.
My own relationship with telemarketers has long been one of resentment and acrimony. Never failing to call at the most inconvenient times, I’ve done my best to repay them with like courtesy. If they begin with "Mrs. Wier, how are you?" I respond with a description of my current physical ailments, including ingrown fingernails, halitosis and problems with bloating. If I have none, I share the emotional stresses I have undergone recently that are causing me to loose sleep.
If they simply launch into their pitch, I’m quick to interrupt and let them know my time is valuable. "How long will this presentation take because my rate for listening to your pitch is $10 for the first 3 minutes and $2 for every minute thereafter. I accept any major credit card as a source of payment. Would you like to continue?"
My husband prefers a less obvious approach. He lets the telemarketer give their entire spiel and when they ask him for a commitment he tells them he needs time to think about it. "But I can call you back. Give me your home phone number, tell me what time you have dinner, and I will call then." He has yet to find one who is willing to share their personal information.
So after years of witnessing our verbal skirmishes, how could our child become one of them? In a word – economics. Chase needed a job. With his many pressing financial commitment (gasoline, video games, wardrobe, and overage charges on his cell phone) necessity demanded that he earn an income. For a child with strong convictions his options were limited. You see, as a matter of conscience he is firmly against manual labor; yet he has no problem interrupting people’s lives to sell them something they were not aware they needed.
