Wednesday, 11th April 2007.

How to dispense with different types of sales callers from quite a long way away (part II)

"Hello, is that Mr Brennan-Scott?"

I sighed. It was the third time in the last week that we'd had a sales call. I've lost count of the number of times I've told them that the Brennan-Scotts moved seven months ago, only to have someone else from the same company (and it is the same company, I checked) telephone the next evening. So you cough and patiently explain that you're the new tenants. No, they don't live here. No, you don't have a number. Sometimes this won't dissuade them and they'll try and sell you their product; sometimes they'll just give up and hang up.

The product in question is almost invariably mobile phones. When I'm approached with a sales pitch I'm reminded of the scene in Boiler Room where Seth, the wannabe Wall Street highflier, is telephoned by a rep trying to sell newspaper subscriptions. Dismayed at the rep's lack of insistence, Seth stops him from hanging up straightaway and coaxes him into giving a first-class pitch for his product, only to reply that he's still not interested, but thank you anyway. The truth is that these people are reading from a script, and they won't actually try and sell you the product, just ask you if you're interested. When you tell them that you're not, they'll thank you for your time and put the phone down.

I know I'm just being awkward here, but there's something that almost disappoints me about this. When one such rep telephoned me the other week asking if I - in the absence of Mr Brennan-Scott - was interested in a new mobile, I countered her with "Well, I already have a mobile. Why should I use yours?" To which she replied "I am sorry for disturbing you,", before abruptly ending the conversation. Perhaps the order from on high is to ignore the time-wasting argumentative sorts and just get on with the next cold call, but I have to confess I felt slightly put out: I was none the wiser as to the benefits of their product, and she'd lost out on what could have been (for all she knew) a potential sale. I've got no objection to them being given a script, but I do wish they were taught to improvise a little.

Conversely (and this is why I'm being awkward) I've lost count of the number of diary entries that I've written over the years that consisted of rants about over-persuasive sales callers, both in the flesh and on the other end of the wire. I can live without, for example, the man who tried to sell me a poorly-lit satellite photo of our house as seen from about two hundred feet up, and the sales rep who insisted on a detailed breakdown of our last phone bill so that he could work out exactly how much we could save if we'd switched to his service. I can, in particular, do without the pressgang approach adopted by Southern Electric, whose tactics are wily and deceptive before becoming rude and intrusive, bordering on techniques adopted by the Spanish Inquisition. ("Amongst our weaponry are elements such as fear, surprise..I'll come in again.")

Call me picky, but I'd like a sales rep who is polite but persuasive; who isn't afraid to enthuse about his product but who knows when he's beaten. Someone who will address me by name in decent English and who will work around a script rather than just making it obvious he's reading off a page. Most of all, someone who has respect for his product and respect for me. It's a tricky middle ground upon which to walk but they don't seem to even try any more.

Unless, of course, they're trying to talk to people who are long gone. I wouldn't mind so much but it's not like we get that many phone calls anyway, and it's a little depressing to pick up the receiver only to be met with a thick-set Indian voice asking to speak to someone who hasn't lived there in months. It's the price you pay for inheriting an old telephone number - I shouldn't complain; my colleague has the old number for Didcot community hospital and she and her husband are constantly bombarded with requests for the Mental Health wards, followed by resentment and indignation when they're unable to provide said callers with the new details.

All of which brings me back to yesterday, and the third call in a week from a sales company. Maybe it's because I wasn't in the chirpiest of moods, or perhaps it was the encounter with the Jehovah's Witnesses on Saturday that had left me feeling mean-spirited (I asked them if they were one of the 144,000 and then wished them a Happy Easter). Whatever the reason, something in me snapped.

"I'm sorry," I said to the poor chap on the other end of the phone. "Mr Brennan-Scott died three weeks ago. I'm handling his affairs now that he's gone. Please don't call here again, as it upsets his wife."

There was a click as the line went dead at the other end, followed by an earthy silence. I suspect that in Chennai a thirty-year-old cold caller was probably feeling rather embarrassed. It's not something I'd do if I weren't certain that it was a sales call, but if I were I'd do it again - and in my defence I would like to add that I was a stout and helpful bear when the Brennan-Scotts' optician rang on Saturday afternoon. I'd like to hope that the news of death will stop them from calling again...but given their persistence over the last few months, I somehow doubt it.