It’d been a long day of rude people and slow drivers, when I arrived home at 6:00 p.m. to relax, I carefully selected a choice entree, to satisfy the incredible appetite I’d managed to work up after a day of such chaos.  After fixing an ice cold drink and cooking my long-awaited meal for the suggested time, I made my way into the living room, flipped on the television, located my remote, kicked off my shoes, propped my feet up on the coffee table, and positioned my food at convenient distances within my reach.  I felt happily buried and FINALLY comfortable.
So, I’m enjoying a pleasant TV dinner of under-cooked Salisbury steak, over-cooked potatoes and carrots, and a still frozen chocolate brownie, when I am interrupted with a start by the ear-splitting ringing of my telephone.  I was expecting an important phone call, so I had no choice but to motivate from my comfortable position on the recliner to answer it.  Now, if this has ever happened to you, you know that, in this situation, there is no sound more irritating than the sudden, shrill ringing of the telephone.
After harshly barking out “hello” several times, I was greeted by a friendly voice, informing me that it was imperative that I stay on the line, as my call was very important to them.  Wait a minute.  My call?  Wasn’t I the one who was letting my food get cold (or thaw out, depending on which part of the TV dinner we’re talking about—At any rate, the ice in my drink was melting)?  It certainly wasn’t MY call.  I was perfectly happy with my dinner, in front of the TV.  Well, now I was curious.  So I waited...and waited...and waited...and waited...and waited...and waited...
At long last (and I mean at LONG last), an operator of some sort materialized at the other end of the phone line.  After listening to the first sentence out of her soliciting mouth, I was thrown into an absolute rage.  My patience had worn too thin during my time on hold for me to attempt to deal with the pushy, bothersome telemarketer.  I unleashed a few choice words, which I usually have reserved only for those rude people and slow drivers, and slammed the phone back in its cradle.  The nerve of these people to call me up during my dinner time!  It’s bad enough that, no matter how hard you try, you can’t get rid of them, but for them to have the gall to invade your mealtime is downright despicable! There should be a law… Any telemarketer who interrupts your dinner should be required to leave their name, home phone number, and their approximate dinner time, so that you may call them back at your convenience.  And since that phone call is “so important” to them, they would surely be more than happy to oblige. I actually may try this tactic the next time that aggravating phone call attempts to ruin my day. Unless, of course, they are soliciting a device to screen annoying and bothersome telephone calls.
(Note: My apologies. I did have this wonderful idea for an ending to this story, but the piercing ringing of my telephone interrupted my train of thought.  Ironically, it was a telemarketer (named Sandy, and was here to help me!).  Of course, my wonderful idea was forgotten, and unfortunately, Sandy wasn’t soliciting an exciting conclusion.)

Krista Rae Depperschmidt
Salina , Ks
March 2001