logicbutton (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
logicbutton) wrote2006-05-18 06:35 pm
logicbutton) wrote2006-05-18 06:35 pm
I have returned to the internets!
This afternoon I got a phone call at my shiny new phone number in my shiny new apartment. As ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
octopedingenue had to wake me up so that I could take the call, I was barely lucid while I said "okay" and "uh-huh" and answered basic demographics questions about myself. Nothing too specific--the most non-standard one was about which credit card company I use. And, I mean, if people want to send me five years' worth of magazines, whatever, that's cool, even though I don't necessarily plan to live at this address for more than a year.
So after a little while, the woman I'd been speaking to transferred me to her manager. At this point, I was significantly closer to being fully awake, and had a lot more thoughts in my head besides the automatic "DON'T GIVE OUT YOUR CREDIT CARD NUMBER OR SSN," which had been there ever since I took the call, so after he'd finished talking at me, I asked him how he'd gotten my phone number.
"Visa," he said.
"But you don't have my credit card number?"
"Well, that's what I was just about to ask you..."
(I always hate this part. I'm too damn meek.) "Okay, actually, I've been thinking about this a bit more, and...yeah, I don't know."
Luckily, the guy was so kind as to make a loud, disgusted sigh to let me know not to have any more sympathy for him after that point. Then he told me that I had already "placed my order" and that I had "known exactly what [I was] doing" when I was talking to the woman and that what I had already done was just like when you order a pizza and the pizza guy says "Will there be anything else?" and you say no, that's it. Then...I don't know what he said, because I hung up. But that's not the point; the point is this: FUCK YOU, MAN, for lying through your damn teeth; Visa didn't give you my phone number. Visa doesn't know where I live. I haven't been in the same place for more than five consecutive months since 2002, so my credit card bills get sent to my parents' house. Anyway, you didn't even know I used Visa until I told your poor telemarketer so. You totally got my number from BellSouth, which is the only entity that is able to connect me personally with this phone number and this address, sincegweniveeve took care of all the other utilities. So fuck you too, BellSouth, not that I'm surprised you gave out my number. Dammit, I hate it when people lie. How many more days until the do-not-call list kicks in, again?
By the way, I blameoctopedingenue for nothing. I was slightly annoyed at her for waking me up from a perfectly good nap to take a spam call, but then she gave me some Reese's, so all was forgiven.
In other news, we're all moved in now! And have internet, yay! Off to read the flist!
octopedingenue had to wake me up so that I could take the call, I was barely lucid while I said "okay" and "uh-huh" and answered basic demographics questions about myself. Nothing too specific--the most non-standard one was about which credit card company I use. And, I mean, if people want to send me five years' worth of magazines, whatever, that's cool, even though I don't necessarily plan to live at this address for more than a year.So after a little while, the woman I'd been speaking to transferred me to her manager. At this point, I was significantly closer to being fully awake, and had a lot more thoughts in my head besides the automatic "DON'T GIVE OUT YOUR CREDIT CARD NUMBER OR SSN," which had been there ever since I took the call, so after he'd finished talking at me, I asked him how he'd gotten my phone number.
"Visa," he said.
"But you don't have my credit card number?"
"Well, that's what I was just about to ask you..."
(I always hate this part. I'm too damn meek.) "Okay, actually, I've been thinking about this a bit more, and...yeah, I don't know."
Luckily, the guy was so kind as to make a loud, disgusted sigh to let me know not to have any more sympathy for him after that point. Then he told me that I had already "placed my order" and that I had "known exactly what [I was] doing" when I was talking to the woman and that what I had already done was just like when you order a pizza and the pizza guy says "Will there be anything else?" and you say no, that's it. Then...I don't know what he said, because I hung up. But that's not the point; the point is this: FUCK YOU, MAN, for lying through your damn teeth; Visa didn't give you my phone number. Visa doesn't know where I live. I haven't been in the same place for more than five consecutive months since 2002, so my credit card bills get sent to my parents' house. Anyway, you didn't even know I used Visa until I told your poor telemarketer so. You totally got my number from BellSouth, which is the only entity that is able to connect me personally with this phone number and this address, since
gweniveeve took care of all the other utilities. So fuck you too, BellSouth, not that I'm surprised you gave out my number. Dammit, I hate it when people lie. How many more days until the do-not-call list kicks in, again?By the way, I blame
octopedingenue for nothing. I was slightly annoyed at her for waking me up from a perfectly good nap to take a spam call, but then she gave me some Reese's, so all was forgiven.In other news, we're all moved in now! And have internet, yay! Off to read the flist!