If I tell you, she’ll have to kill me

The phone rang earlier this evening, and when I picked it up I was greeted by a man on the other end from an outfit named something like Audience Participation Surveys. I hate getting caught by telemarketers, and Caller ID on my answering machine usually saves me from that, but I thought the area code sounded like it belonged to one of my girlfriend’s friends.

Having caught hold of me, the guy explained that he “wasn’t selling anything”; he was just conducting a survey. I’ve taken part in telephone surveys on a couple of occasions. They tend to be interesting, but a little overly long. Just as I was about to tell him that I wasn’t inclined to participate, he informed me that he was looking to interview a woman between the ages of 18 and whatever. Did I have any in the household?

I had none, sadly. My girlfriend was out attending a professional function, and quite frankly she’s the only approved female occupant.

The guy asked when he could reach her, and I told him he could try back tomorrow at this time. He then asked me her name, so that he’d “know whom to ask for” when he called.

“Do you live with a woman?” I asked the caller.

I had to repeat my question, probably because he wasn’t prepared for it.

“No.”

“Well,” I chuckled, “you just say the same thing you did this evening when you call tomorrow, and I’ll hand the phone over to her if she’s here.”

For his sake, should he one day live with a woman, I hope that he appreciates the wisdom in my example.

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One Response to “If I tell you, she’ll have to kill me”

  1. Michelle Says:

    :O/

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