Women: No Means NoSubmitted by w_t_a_y_s_t_r_m at 2006-11-20 08:17:27 EST
Rating: 1.91 on 39 ratings (39 reviews) (Review this item) (V)
This past weekend for me was nothing but a pure spout of manly brilliance. Testosterone was flowing like wine on Mount Olympus and I’m fairly sure my pecks were unusually toned, causing my nipples to poke through my shirts in the most heterosexual way imaginable.
My girlfriend and mum went shopping with my sister somewhere for some shit to do with my sister’s wedding, which I assumed was code for a mass of Christmas presents for me. I later realised my sister and I agreed not to exchange gifts this year and my mum’s going to China and I told her not to worry about getting me anything. My final hopes were dashed when they arrived home and I met them at the back door.
“Do you need a hand with anything?” I asked Jo, secretly knowing she would say no for fear of me catching a glimpse of my presents.
“Okay.” She said, carrying nothing but her ridiculously small handbag in. “Just grab the bags off the back seat.”
“You sure?” I said, not attempting to hide the disappointment. “What if I see what’s in them?”
“It’s okay.” She smiled, oblivious to my suffering. “I’ll show you what I got anyway.”
“Don’t bother.” I muttered grabbing the bags roughly.
Earlier that day I had been rearranging my bedroom so that I could fit in the additional comic storage boxes I would need to get at some point and just so that I could reach my telly from bed since my remote had broken. When I was halfway through pushing my bed against the wall (which for some reason seemed heavier than my car) my phone began ringing.
Assuming it was Jo calling to check whether I already had something she was planning on getting my as a present, I dived at the phone and flipped it open.
“It doesn’t matter!” I shouted. “Just buy it!”
“Hello, sir.” It was an unfamiliar woman’s voice. And she didn’t address me by name, which meant I knew exactly what was going to come next. “I’m calling from [generic phone company who can’t afford a proper shop with walls and shelves]. I believe your current contract is due to expire soon?”
For those of you who don’t know how these twats work, the companies cold call anyone with a certain prefixing number, which typically dictates what network your mobile phone is on, and whether you’re a contract or pay as you go customer. When you answer and say shit like ‘No, my contract doesn’t end until June, next year.” They mark it down next to your number, and then next May you get an absolute shit-load of phone calls from the company who called you during the year and offering you all kinds of bullshit offers.
That’s if you’re lucky. If you’re unlucky (and retarded) then it will be a complete stranger and they will steal your identity. This is lucky for you, because there’s no benefit or pride is stealing a spastic’s identity, as they have no money.
“No.” I said flatly. “It’s not.” Typically at this point I’d hang up, but this woman annoyed me. It had taken me fifteen minutes to finally budge my bed halfway and she interrupted my flow.
“Oh.” She answered in the same way they all do. “Do you know when your contract is due to run out?”
“Of course I know.” I didn’t mean to sound as sarcastic as I did, but it’s a habit that I don’t want to let go of. “Be pretty fucking stupid if I didn’t.”
“Could you let me know when it is due to run out then, sir, and we can call you back?”
“We could most probably beat your current contract and upgrade your phone for free.”
“You’re trying to steal my identity!” I screamed at her.
“No, I’m not.” She sounded very indignant. “We’re just trying to offer you a better deal.”
“Yeah I’ve gone for a really ‘good deal’ before.” I said, faux sadness in my voice. “Let me guess what’s next, you’re the widow of a Nigerian banker who got assassinated?”
There was silence for a short while. Maybe she really was the widow of a Nigerian banker who got assassinated and I had really stepped in it. The doubt turned to hope. Maybe then she’d learn to get a real job.
“We are not stealing identities.” She said sounding really pissed off now and not even attempting to hide it. “We just offer fantastic mobile phone deals at rates that cannot be beaten.” I’m not quite sure why she turned into an advertising campaign for something that I clearly didn’t want.
“I know you’re not.” I answered, letting my real voice come through. “But if anyone from your company calls again, I’ll contact the police and report that I think you are. I’ll tell them that you asked me for many different personal details and made me feel uncomfortable.”
“This call’s being recorded.”
“No it’s not.” I assumed. “And then I’ll tell them that you threatened to send around the heavies.”
“This is ludicrous.” The penny had dropped and she finally realised I was winding her up.
“I know.” The fun was gone. “I don’t want any deals, I don’t want any new phones and I certainly don’t want anyone to call me again.”
“You didn’t hear what we have to offer.” She actually sounded hopeful that I would be interested in a mobile phone deal with her shitty company.
“No. I don’t want to hear them.”
“We could save you on average, £40 a month.”
“Woman, no means no.” I finally hung on the bitch and had a quick think.
After a short while I realised, what I had just done virtually made me a hero. In the short time I had kept her on the phone I had saved at least four other people from getting calls like that on their Saturday. So, anyone who has a Vodafone contract and was not contacted on Saturday owes me a medal. Or at least a parade.
Later that day, when Jo and my mum were both home and it was sadly confirmed that I didn’t actually have any presents (except for a really cool ketchup dispenser in the shape of a tomato, which doesn’t count), I was told that my sister had brought her wedding dress.
Despite the fact that she was still twice the size she wanted to be for her wedding they had gone ahead with the purchase. I gave all the usual responses indicating I cared about something that I really didn’t, until I was knocked on my ass.
“And she wasn’t the only one who tried on a wedding dress.” My mum said, looking from me to Jo, who was stood grinning.
I turned in horror at my girlfriend who had been in a wedding dress just a few hours earlier.
“NO MEANS NO!” I bellowed at her, before ripping the sink out of the sideboard, throwing it through the window, climbing out and running away.