"Eat this pinecone -- It will amuse me."
Some guy from Mastercard called me the other day, trying to get my business. It was one of those dinner hour calls that would normally tick me off, but because I had been drinking, I let the guy read his script. The deal was 1.9% interest rate for the first year. After that time, it would jump to twenty-some percent, like most cards. I didn't even entertain the idea of getting the card at the time, but in retrospect, that's a pretty small percentage. I'm sure there are loads of people who abuse that 1.9% like a college student who has been given an extension on an essay they never intended to hand in on time, anyway. I was that kind of student, but I'm not that kind of citizen. Handing in late papers still got me a diploma, but skipping on credit card payments is only going to keep me from renting apartments or test-driving cars. So anyway, it was either hang up the phone immediately, or toy with the representative a bit. I decided I would make it my mission to keep him on the line as long as possible.
My first strategy was to ask questions. One of the things he mentioned about the card was that it had price protection, so if I was ever charged more than what was necessary, I would be able to contact the company and have them credit my account. So I asked him, trying to sound somewhat normal, "If I were to buy a shotgun worth four-hundred dollars, but then found it somewhere else for one-hundred dollars, you would credit me three-hundred dollars?"
"That is correct, sir. If you were to buy a... shotgun at a certain price and then find the same item somewhere else for less, we would protect your purcase."
"For shotguns?"
"Yes, absolutely, sir -- for any item, in fact."
"Oh, good... good. Now, would it have to be the same guage, or could I replace any shotgun with a cheaper shotgun I found?"
"Well, sir, it would have to be the exact same shotgun."
"I see... I see. Gotta love shotguns!"
"...Eh, yes, sir."
Then I spent a good ten minutes upping the crazyness, babbling about other credit cards the poor guy had nothing to do with. "Now what about Discover card!? I heard that's a damn fine card!" He was patient and said, "Yes, sir, I believe it is, but unfortunately, that's only available to people in the United States."
"How many shotguns do you think I could get with a Discover card if I were an American?"
"..."
I think I spent another few minutes asking him about the benefits of traveller's cheques, too.
"Yes, those are definitely an option, sir."
After half an hour of this nonsense, he either realized I was deliberately messing with him and had no desire to get the card, or he had some sort of limit his calls had to be kept under, because he was desperate to hang up. He just interrupted my talking and said, "Okay, sir, I thank you for your time, and I hope you have a nice night."
My first strategy was to ask questions. One of the things he mentioned about the card was that it had price protection, so if I was ever charged more than what was necessary, I would be able to contact the company and have them credit my account. So I asked him, trying to sound somewhat normal, "If I were to buy a shotgun worth four-hundred dollars, but then found it somewhere else for one-hundred dollars, you would credit me three-hundred dollars?"
"That is correct, sir. If you were to buy a... shotgun at a certain price and then find the same item somewhere else for less, we would protect your purcase."
"For shotguns?"
"Yes, absolutely, sir -- for any item, in fact."
"Oh, good... good. Now, would it have to be the same guage, or could I replace any shotgun with a cheaper shotgun I found?"
"Well, sir, it would have to be the exact same shotgun."
"I see... I see. Gotta love shotguns!"
"...Eh, yes, sir."
Then I spent a good ten minutes upping the crazyness, babbling about other credit cards the poor guy had nothing to do with. "Now what about Discover card!? I heard that's a damn fine card!" He was patient and said, "Yes, sir, I believe it is, but unfortunately, that's only available to people in the United States."
"How many shotguns do you think I could get with a Discover card if I were an American?"
"..."
I think I spent another few minutes asking him about the benefits of traveller's cheques, too.
"Yes, those are definitely an option, sir."
After half an hour of this nonsense, he either realized I was deliberately messing with him and had no desire to get the card, or he had some sort of limit his calls had to be kept under, because he was desperate to hang up. He just interrupted my talking and said, "Okay, sir, I thank you for your time, and I hope you have a nice night."
posted by Wino McHackenpuke at 2:52 PM
3 Comments:
So you're alive...I though you were dead since your last post was on Oct 11 that is 118 days ago and furthermore you said you liked sharp object....so.....you could have...made a kind of mistake while shaving.
But obviously you're OK and ready to write delightful post. So I just wanted to thank you for entertaining my boring sunday afternoon here in Paris.
Keep posting, I really like that.
A Parisian reader. Cool.
You keep visiting, and I'll keep posting.
You should combine your love of sharp objects with your hatred of credit cards and open a new company. Issue credit cards with sharp edges. Parents can get them for their kids. The young little rats will learn that borrowing money is a painful experience, something they should know at a young age. Additionally, scars are the new tattoos/piercings. They can be cool kids with lacerated fingers.
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