As I wrote in previous entries, I’ve been calling in sick at work now for several weeks as I build my own conglomerate in the coat closet of the one bedroom apartment I share with my wife.
This is how my first telemarketing call went.
I looked down at the sales script I wrote for myself.
ME (in my reading-out-loud voice): Hello. Do you have one to two hours to talk to me about my products which I want to sell to you?
WOMAN: Two hours? No. Of course not.
ME (still reading): I need at least two hours to effectively tell you everything about my products in minute detail. I may also need an extra hour and a half to tell you about myself, and how I came to start my own company in my small closet which now has a burnt-out light bulb so I cannot see anything.
WOMAN: That’s over three hours? What the heck are you selling?
ME: Glad you asked. I am selling paper towel.
WOMAN: We have plenty of paper towel here, so no thanks. Have a nice day.
ME: How much are you selling it for?
ME: I also buy paper towel.
WOMAN: What kind of business is this?
ME: I buy and re-sell paper towel.
WOMAN: That's really odd.
ME: What’s your address? I’ll send you some of my paper towel. I guarantee that after you sample it, you’ll be on your knees, begging me to sell you more. Or you can trade in some of your own paper towel for some of mine.
WOMAN: But your paper towel is just someone else’s that you bought and sold or traded back to me. What’s the difference?
I went back to my sales script.
ME (in my reading-out-loud voice): Well, once you join my paper towel club, you’ll be trading and buying paper towel with me, AND trading and buying paper towel with all of your friends, during paper towel parties. And when all your friends under you make money, you’ll be making money.
WOMAN: Is this a pyramid scheme?
ME: It’s basically a marketing-structured, paper towel pyramid scheme.
WOMAN (annoyed): How does anyone make money?
ME: That’s up to you, really, and how much time and effort you’ll want to put into your paper towel parties.
WOMAN: I am really not interested. I’m going to hang up now.
ME: Wait… First let me tell you about our Easy-Pay-Whaddaya-Say-Plan. For just four instalments of only two dollars and three cents a month, you can purchase your very first roll of paper towel with thirty sheets of quilted paper. It’s that easy. And that’s before a non-refundable administration fee, a delivery charge, postage, and a finder's fee.
WOMAN: That’s pretty pricey for one roll of paper towel.
ME: Well, then you can sign up for our more affordable refurbished paper towel. That's paper towel which I've purchased from others which looks slightly secondhand due to odd stains. Some of these rolls have paper which is still dripping from soaked up messes, so that's why it's better priced to move.
WOMAN: How is anyone supposed to clean with wet and used paper towel?
ME: That's for you to figure out. I'm not the one who can't afford paper towel that no one's used before.
WOMAN: I'm hanging up now.
ME: Well, now would be a great time to let you know about my very own line of condoms for cheapskates.