Sprinkler Head Games

Last month, while I was busy planning CHRISTMAS and the many etc. etc. that accompany such I received a phone call at work from a young girl who desired a meeting with me so she could talk to me about How Great Her Product Is And When Would Be A Good Time? Uhm, Hello! You are interrupting valuable online shopping minutes! Because WTF? My Barnes and Noble Sale Of The Century Online coupon expires in 45 seconds!!!!!! I gave her the standard, "I'm working on my 2009 projections and will be better able to discuss that with you at the first of the year, please call me back then" which is marketingspeak for "I know you are READING from an EFFING script and I'm not sure you are worth my time or my company's dollars much less wasting time I could be Facebooking or at the very least peeking at budgets". Whew! She was obviously not into her job and let me go without a bit of lip.

Blissful silence from the godawful telemarketing coven. Until yesterday.

She called again. Here's how the conversation went:

"Marketing, this is Ashley."

"Hey, Ashley, this is Jenna." (My assistant's name is Jenna, so I had to take a peek into her office. From my adjoining office. Which means I had to lean over to the right. Just a little. Yep. She was sitting right there. It wasn't my Jenna prank calling me to get in her little dose of humor for the day. As if I don't provide that already.)

"Hi, Jenna."

(note: On The Phone Jenna doesn't pause AT ALL so all of this sounded like ONE WORD)

"Ashley, I called you a few weeks ago to talk to you about advertising with us and we are going to be in your area today, tomorrow and Friday, will you have time to meet with us?"

"Jenna, what company are you with?"

"Smart Kart. With a K" (She actually said that. How punchy. Replacing the C in cart with a K. That makes me want to use your company because of the ultra-Kreative way you did that.)

"Sure, Jenna. Tomorrow around 4:00 will be fine."

"Okay, great! What's your address?"

I gave her my address and began the I'm Ready To Get Off The Phone tone.

To which her reply was: "Ashley, just one more question. You sound like a direct person, (my BP just missile launched to 279 because while she is still reading from a script and is SUPPOSED to say that because she's used to being shot down a lot she has really no evidence that I am direct because I really was behaving myself this whole time. I was in bitch-slap mode. And she was about to be Bitch-of-the-Week.) and so are we, so are you the person in charge of making the decisions for the advertising expenses for your company?"

"Yes." (Not-so-subtle direct tone could be heard here. Now. Not before here.)

"Okay, great. I'll see you tomorrow at 4:00"

"Great, Jenna. I'm looking forward to it."

Jenna had it coming. Only Jenna didn't show up. Albert did. (I changed his name to protect my MacBook Pro because it's causing throw-up burps every time I think about it/him/it/things/ugh.)

At 4:10. 10 minutes late. Asshole.

Albert then came in and reiterated how important it was that I be the Decision Maker for the company. I should have lied and said no. To protect myself and my desk and the things on my desk like my keyboard, mouse, favorite pen, daytimer, Blackberry, drink, current projects, Christie's magazine. But I didn't.

Albert was a heavy man who was an obvious smoker so this caused HEAVY breathing. He also had a tiny separation between his front teeth which served as sort of a launch zone for SPIT COMING OUT OF HIS MOUTH every time he needed to emphasize something. Which was often. Bastard.

You must know that I am a germaphobe with a capital F. I've had to learn to let some things slide since becoming a mother. Not many. Even EJ knows the value of some "hanitizer" stashed away in Mama's purse. Because. GOD. People are gross.

For one solid hour I listened to why I should advertise with his company and watched spit fly on to every surface of my desk. I tried the first couple of times to memorize the locations of the spitlandings so I could target them when I was able to get hold of the Clorox wipes. No use.

THEN!

The gall! The audacity! The BALLS! To get mad at me because I told him that I couldn't tell him today whether or not I would sign up today for his BRILLIANT ADVERTISING SALIVA.

He then began to blame On The Phone Jenna for not properly qualifying me.

Yes, On The Phone Jenna, it's your fault, you bitch.

Where is the Clorox?