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The fact that it took very little effort on my part, tells me either she was a telemarketer having a really bad day, or, a scammer. (Because the last time one of my credit card companies called me and I said something similar, they said, why don't you call the service number on the back of your card [1800BLAHDEBLAH], I'm in the BBBB office, my name is XYZ.)
This lady calls right when I'm trying to dial up, but of course she doesn't know that, so I can't be annoyed at her for it.
her: [blah blah blah, you've been entered in a drawing, we have to notify winners by registered mail, I'm calling to confirm your address.]
me: OK. Why don't you read it off to me.
her: NNNN ******** Ave #NN
me: That's correct.
her: And what is your town?
me: How come you don't have my full address?
her: It got cut off.
me: Well, that's a problem, because I don't actually know that you're who you say you are*, and I don't give out personal information over the phone.
her: [garble garble speaking while I'm speaking] and save me the time. *hangs up*.
Me: [to terminated connection] Save *you* the time!
[*] Not that you've said you're anyone in particular, just from some publishers something (not publisher's clearing house), and that the drawing is sponsored by national banks and credit cards. Yeah. Right.
Now, I try not to be too hard on telemarketers, because our mom put food on the table doing that work for some months during our first winter in California. (Wait, let me rephrase: "winter".) Jim was back in Alaska doing training films for ARCO, and we were at the new place. We ate what we could afford to eat, and not much else.
So, I don't hang up unless I really have to, and I try to stay polite, but be upfront about my refusal to give out personal information over the phone. It's like with writing: money flows TO the author. Information should be flowing TO the callee.
This lady calls right when I'm trying to dial up, but of course she doesn't know that, so I can't be annoyed at her for it.
her: [blah blah blah, you've been entered in a drawing, we have to notify winners by registered mail, I'm calling to confirm your address.]
me: OK. Why don't you read it off to me.
her: NNNN ******** Ave #NN
me: That's correct.
her: And what is your town?
me: How come you don't have my full address?
her: It got cut off.
me: Well, that's a problem, because I don't actually know that you're who you say you are*, and I don't give out personal information over the phone.
her: [garble garble speaking while I'm speaking] and save me the time. *hangs up*.
Me: [to terminated connection] Save *you* the time!
[*] Not that you've said you're anyone in particular, just from some publishers something (not publisher's clearing house), and that the drawing is sponsored by national banks and credit cards. Yeah. Right.
Now, I try not to be too hard on telemarketers, because our mom put food on the table doing that work for some months during our first winter in California. (Wait, let me rephrase: "winter".) Jim was back in Alaska doing training films for ARCO, and we were at the new place. We ate what we could afford to eat, and not much else.
So, I don't hang up unless I really have to, and I try to stay polite, but be upfront about my refusal to give out personal information over the phone. It's like with writing: money flows TO the author. Information should be flowing TO the callee.