You Don't Know Me

On a day-to-day basis at work I have to deal with a mul­ti­tude of con­tacts from all sorts of busi­ness­es, such as print­ing com­pa­nies, media com­pa­nies, survey/research com­pa­nies, phone/internet providers, mag­a­zines, tech sup­port depart­ments, mar­ket­ing com­pa­nies, and tons of oth­er ran­dom oper­a­tions either try­ing to get my busi­ness or required by me for a product/service. At the begin­ning of every phone call, every sin­gle per­son I deal with asks me how I’m doing. It’s become a chal­lenge not to shout into the receiv­er, “YOU DON’T KNOW ME. DO YOU REALLY CARE? I’M A LITTLE WORRIED CAUSE IT BURNS WHEN I PEE! DID YOU REALLY WANT TO KNOW THAT?!!”, every time I hear the cook­ie-cut­ter ques­tion. The worst is when I have to call some­one sev­er­al times in a day to fol­low up on some­thing, and I’m greet­ed with the same ques­tion every time, as if my com­pa­ny might have been built on a fault line that some­how sep­a­rat­ed between 10:00 and 10:15.

I know that ask­ing is a polite thing to do, and it’s polite of me to ask in return, but it’s extreme­ly dif­fi­cult for me to say things that I don’t real­ly mean. I gen­er­al­ly only ask my friends how they’re doing, and I cer­tain­ly only tell my friends how I’m actu­al­ly doing.

I sup­pose it’s all just a haz­ard of the job. One day, for one of the less friend­ly, more aggres­sive, rude­ly patron­iz­ing, dread­ful­ly unim­por­tant calls (such as one I got the oth­er day from a com­pa­ny sell­ing solu­tions for high search engine rank­ings), I’ll go on about some make-believe prob­lem I’m hav­ing. It’ll be inter­est­ing to see how long they can stay on the line, how much the busi­ness worth to them.

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