adore amy

hell hath no fury…

As much as I dislike negativity and genuinely hate to rant, vent, whinge or whatever (and all joking aside, I really do) I just cannot avoid saying that this last week I have been astonished, to the point of speechlessness, by the telephone callers. Absolutely dumbstruck.

Not the emailers, all of whom (AW excepted, needless to say) have been fine. For the first time in as long as I can remember, I have turned down EVERY SINGLE person who has contacted me by telephone for the last five days – admittedly there have been a few I have missed as I do not answer my work phone when outside the house, at night, in the bath, watching TV, cooking, sleeping and so forth but as the site says, by far the best way is to email. Unfortunately it is becoming apparent that nobody is actually reading the site at the moment, and in all honesty I have virtually reached the point where I remove my telephone number from it altogether.

I have been told that my website isn’t working properly so ‘I couldn’t read it’ (how fortunate then that the top left corner where the telephone number is displayed is working fine), I have been asked for ‘details’ so many times I have actually begun hanging up and texting my website address, eliciting responses everywhere from silence (which admittedly was sort-of the point) to ‘fuck off slut’ and worse. The most far-and-away difficult part to understand would currently appear to be ‘no same day bookings after 12pm’, but for the life of me I cannot see how this brief, unambiguous statement is any more complex than (say) the average episode of The Apprentice, which most adults seem to be able to follow without recourse to a reference library, a translator or an online dictionary. As those who know me will be starting to suspect from this post, I am fast reaching the end of my tether.

The most frustrating part is, with a couple of notable exceptions, I daresay most of these callers would be perfectly amenable clients. However, in common with anyone else who a. works from home, b. provides any sort of service where getting along with one’s customers is reasonably important and c. is extremely clear about how they conduct their business and expect to be approached, the thought of being alone with a complete stranger who telephones me and asks for the most basic information, the underlying implication being that my carefully written wishes, expectations and terms are not important enough to even be skimmed over, let alone read and respected, is completely unacceptable to me, and not something that I am prepared to take a chance on. If I’m honest, even the specific questions aren’t the problem so much as the lazy, dismissive tone of so many – there is a world of difference between the dreaded ‘can I ‘ave some details, love’, and the gentleman who rings and explains that he daren’t read the website because he is at work, but could I please just confirm my ninety minute incall rate, and whether I am available tomorrow afternoon?

The most blatantly offensive of the lot, the ever present yay-I’ve-got-a-free-hour-and-want-to stick-my-cock-in-something-NOW!!! who rarely even know to whom they are speaking, Gawd love ’em, are the easy ones (hanging up is not hard to do, after all). I refer to the people who ring not knowing a thing about me, my fees, my services or even that I am in Scarborough, people who ring at ten o’clock at night or six in the morning – this last from a gentleman who in the same sentence first claimed (via voicemail) to have got my number from ‘a friend’, and then solemnly asked, presumably with a straight face, if I offer a ‘totally discreet service’; obviously whiling away the hours with friends discussing Prostitutes We Have Seen is not only commonplace, but the new benchmark by which discretionary behaviour should be judged. This one also instructed me to ring him back at six pm. I do hope he isn’t still waiting.

I can only speak for myself, but if I am going to spend large sums of money on anything, let alone something intangible that doesn’t last that long (a hotel stay, a fancy meal, a haircut), I make it my business to find out about it first. I not only read the blurb provided by the object of my desire itself, but I look at review sites to find out what other people thought and even if I can’t find anything else to go on, I at least find out how much it costs and how best I go about obtaining it. It can sometimes be the case that I cannot find out this information easily and have to contact someone involved to make specific enquiries, and in the event of this I do so politely and concisely, since I am aware that they have better things to do than chat to me about nothing in particular, and that others may also be trying to contact them. I would not, for example, telephone the Four Seasons George V and ask ‘wot are ur rooms like?’ or (twice this week) ‘ow much is it?’.

Most people reading this who have met me will be well aware of the response that queries like this are likely to receive, and it’s true that no, I am not the most patient person on earth, and yes, I detest talking to strangers on the phone when I am not expecting them and I am perfectly happy to concede that I can be my own worst enemy – my chosen medium will always be the written word, coupled with a brief confirmation call at a pre-agreed time so everybody knows where they are. But I don’t think it’s too outrageous to politely ask someone where they got my number from, or direct them to my website when it is abundantly clear that they have no idea who they’re even talking to apart from that she is probably genetically female, has a pulse and offers sex in return for money. Is it?

Rant definitely over, with apologies to the gentle and respectful folk, who are far more likely to be reading than those being discussed. I’m off to get some fresh air, buy some wool for my new knitting, have a swim and watch more of The Wire over homemade toad in the hole after. To give the numpties their due, a bit of extra leisure time is no bad thing! Still; grrrr.

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