As she launched into her spiel, she told me she was calling for the North Carolina Special Olympics and assured me that she knew that I know the great work done by the Special Olympics. I hung up.
I never hang up on anyone. I sometimes say, “if you can’t speak to me like a human being [whatever that means] then I’m going to hang up and we can talk later.” That’s not a line I use on telemarketers; usually I tell them I’m unemployed (which, most importantly, is true) and while I would love to buy five or six magazine subscriptions, this is just not the right time. Actually, there is no right time since I have about a dozen subscriptions and read only two.
I sit here—clicking away on my keyboard, drinking my Snapple, eating my string cheese and French twists—steeped in guilt. This is patently unfair. I felt insulted by the call (whether I had a reason to is immaterial), and I feel guilty. The guilt makes sense, though. After all, the woman was calling for a good cause, she was just doing her job, she didn’t know I’d react badly to her false friendliness, Special Olympics is such a good cause—and, most of all, how would I like it if someone hung up on me?
Here I sit, guilty guilty guilty. And worse yet, I’m not a nice little girl. Darn! This day had started out so well.