11:30am. Telemarketer: Hello is that Mr or Mrs Bowen?
Me: What are you selling?
Telemarketer: Oh, I’m not selling nothing.
Great. She followed on with some spiel about how my house was only one of five in the suburb to be chosen for a free offer… does anybody fall for this crap any more?
3:15pm. Later call.
Bloke: Hello, Peter?
Me: Nope. There’s nobody called Peter here.
Bloke: Oh, sorry. Bye.
A minute later the mobile rings.
Me: Daniel Bowen
Bloke: Mr Bowen!
Me: Didn’t you call me a minute ago?
Bloke: Oh. Oh right. Sorry. Sorry.
I mean, how bloody clueless would you have to be, to be scouring through the phone book. You find a listing for BOWEN D F and ring it, find out your mate Peter isn’t there, and then decide that maybe ringing the mobile number listed for the same name might be a good idea? And then when the victim answers stating his name, which is clearly not Peter, you presume it’s him.
Git.
