(My cellphone provider used to call me several times a day to offer their ‘awesome’ services. I got fed up and told them to stop. It took a while and I had to involve the regulatory agency.)

(Phone rings.)

Me: “Hello?”

Telemarketer: “Hi! It’s [Telemarketer] from [Provider]…”

Me: “I asked to be let out of your call list.”

Telemarketer: “Yes! We are calling to ask you to get back to our offer service!”

Me: “…?”

Telemarketer: “You’ll never miss an amazing offer ever again!”

Me: “…am I supposed to be laughing?”

(I’m still trying to get them to stop.)

(I have a very unusual name. A few years ago, I began receiving offers for platinum business credit cards in my junk mail. They’re addressed to my name, with “owner” on the following line. I have never owned a business nor held any relevant permits or licenses, so I find it very confusing. Eventually I get the following phone call.)

Telemarketer: “Hello, can I speak to the owner of [My Name], please?”

Me: “Uh… This is [My Name].”

Telemarketer: “Yes, but I am looking for the OWNER of [My Name]. Can I speak to the OWNER of [My Name], please?”

Me: “Wait, WHAT? You ARE talking to me. I’m [My Name].”

Telemarketer: “So you are the owner of [My Name]? I’m calling about [credit card offer]—”

(At this point I realize why I’d been getting that weird junk mail.)

Me: “Um, no. [My Name] is not a business. [My Name] is MY NAME. I am a PERSON. And I don’t have an owner because slavery is illegal, last I checked.”

Telemarketer: “This…isn’t a business?”

Me: “No. I am not a business.”

Telemarketer: “…[My Name] is… your… name?”

Me: “Yes. So how did I get on this list? And who in their right mind would call a business [My Name], anyway???:

Telemarketer: *rushed* “Thank you, sir. Have a nice day.” *click*

(I never got any more of those business credit card mailings again!)

Telemarketer: “What’s your name?”

Me: “Jessica.”

Telemarketer: “Oh, then you are Jessica Alba?”

Me: “No…”

Telemarketer: “So, what’s your last name?”

Me: “I don’t give that out.”

Telemarketer: “Okay, well, I need a last name for our records.”

Me: “Fine. Just put down ‘Alba.'”

Telemarketer: “Okay, then. So you are Jessica Alba?”

Me: “Sure, why not?”

(My dad has just received a phone call from a telemarketer.)

Caller: “Do you require cavity wall insulation?”

Dad: “No, I don’t.”

Caller: “But wall cavities can make your house very cold and—”

Dad: “My walls don’t have cavities. I don’t need cavity wall insulation.”

Caller: “But…”

Dad: “I’ll tell you what. If I find any cavities in my walls, I promise I’ll fill them with gold and give you the leftovers.” *click*

(It’s early in the morning before my college classes start. The phone rings as I am making my breakfast.)

Caller: “Hello. May I speak with Gloria?”

Me: *laughs* “Sure.”

(I proceed to hold the phone up to the mantle in our living room, where my grandmother’s ashes sit. I can hear him go off on his script, pause, and call ‘Ma’am?’ several times. I give him a break.)

Me: “Sir, my grandmother is dead. The only way you could possibly be unaware of that is if you’re selling something. My toast is done. I need to go.”

(I hung up on him and went back to my morning routine.)