The phone rang. I picked it up.
The voice on the other end didn't offer a name but he sounded like a Nick, so I think I'll refer to him as Nick. Nervous Nick.
Nervous Nick: Can I speak to Mr. Geoff Slater please?
Wow - Mister. This was official.
Me: Um, he's a little tied up at the moment. [You're in luck Nick. Hang up the phone. Save yourself! Do it now!]
I didn't say that last part. I just thought it.
Just then, Geoff spotted me. He motioned to the phone. I nodded that yes, it was for him. I tried to spare you Nick. I really did. Okay, maybe I didn’t try too hard.
I don't know exactly what Nervous Nick said, but it had something to do with a special event at a local car dealership.
Geoff: No, I didn't receive anything like that in the mail.
I handed Geoff the day's mail which included an invitation to a special event at a local car dealership.
Geoff: Oh yeah. Ok. I see it here now. So... will there be booze at this event?
Presumably, Nervous Nick was stunned into momentary silence. By the way, Geoff doesn't drink. Anymore. Well, maybe the odd glass of Fat Bastard... but I digress.
Evidently Nick explained to Geoff that there would be no booze. This was to be a sober test-driving extravaganza.
Geoff: Yeah, well I guess you wouldn't want to get people liquored up before they climb into your cars would you?
I had to hand it to poor Nick. He was spunky. He tried to stay on script and pushed for Geoff to commit to attending the party.
Geoff: Well, I don't know what we're doing that day but I tell you what, if we're in the area we'll drop by and drive the Hell out of one of your cars.
Nick thanked Geoff and hung up after which time he likely handed in his resignation and downed a case of Fat Bastard - but not necessarily in that order.
Really, Nick shouldn't feel too bad. He fared pretty well in the Mister Slater vs cold caller battle.
I once heard Geoff tell a telemarketer that he couldn't use long distance services because we didn't own a telephone. Then, there was the time he turned a teleseller’s head inside out by explaining that we were Mennonites and therefore didn’t require life insurance. But my favorite was his response when a chirpy scam artist called to tell him his computer was full of viruses. “Ok, got it,” said Geoff, “The dog sleeps at midnight and the cat ate the chicken."
And that is why you should never call my husband. Ever. Unless you're drunk. Or sarcastic. Or both.