TELEDAMNED

I was talking to Macabea* earlier about market tricks … Those who pretend to be friends, and pull your blood, kidneys, liver, meat out.  We ended up with the telemarketing attendants…Thinking to myself, I concluded that this is the second worse race, just after the race NEIGHBORS. I want to highlight that the problems are the telemarketing OPERATORS, the active ones, because the ATTENDANTS (passive) are almost always patient with us.

What the hell goes in this assholes heads´ to call us after 8:00 pm or on Saturdays before 7:00am, or even worse, on Sundays anytime, to sell us subscriptions to nameless newspapers, magazines, purses, equipments, Net TV, broadband internet, or whatever else we are not interested in?

If we were interested, we would look ourselves for those products mentioned before, or any others. Just go to the supermarket, look for in the internet, call to the phone company to ask for the number, or whatever.

The other day, (I emphasize, usually they choose the days we are really stressed, or with a huge pre menstrual tension.. I mean almost everyday, and then they complain that we treat them badly). Anyway, the other day, a miserable called me to “tell” I have just won (as if someone would ever win some free thing in this life!!!!) a month free newspaper subscription (I won’t mentions FOLHA name, OPS!) due to …….. or to……….. I don’t care! As I was absolutely fed up.. For anything which could be said there… and didn’t want to be rude enough to hang up the phone, I went beyond and pulled the wire of the wall. Much better, isn’t it? Can you believe that the SnOB calls  me ten minutes later – I have asked my dad to tell I have left home – and the damned guy tell him that I have hung up on his face( me?????!!!!, what the hell!!!!!!?????????) but he was answered that it was cut off  and I was late. And the SOB thanks him for this “cut off”.

Now, let’s see.. I haven’t asked anything, I was quiet at home, preparing myself for a very hard dance class (Wow). This after 6:00 pm, that’s it, after commercial time, and the mammoth (not to offend any sexual options…) calls bugging me. Ah, go f… someone else. And still calls me back thanking for hanging on him.. It’s a bit too much!

To worsen a bit, the same week, another troglodyte calls me from a company called “ TOUCH OF CARE” ( looks like a 1 star motel name) telling me that I have evaluated me in the last 4 months, and as I have had used my CC very well ( whatever that means?!)  and had no debts, I have won a bag valuing R$1??,00 in fake leather and a real leather wallet, valuing R$1??,00 (more expensive than the bag) in a sum of R$320,00 of the company TOUCH OF CARE ( what a shit name!!!)   and that this was paid by them, and that they would deliver them at home in about 45 days… blah blah blah, blah blah sbrubbles, and now… the best of the joke…  I would just pay the delivery…   Because they would send a delivery company and not through the post and that the package has an insurance of LOST (sic) and damages (they want to kill a language teacher this way?) Killing English, ok, but the teacher too?  Can you imagine the headlines? “English teacher killed through phone”. The amount of the delivery: R$ 140,00, in 3 installments…

Now, come on, what do they think? That, just because they are nuts, idiot, retarded, stupid, I also have to be? Come on? I win a R$320,00 gift, and just pay half of it in delivery? Nice, isn’t it?

That´s all for now

Tomorrow I´ll be back. Or any other day. Gone!

Obviously I don’t have to tell again… I was quiet, didn’t ask for a thing. I don’t want anything, and if I want a purse, a bag or a wallet I’ll go to any store at 25^th March (a market neighborhood in Sao Paulo) and buy the bloody thing for, let’s say… R$10,00 (ten, really, not a hundred!!!!).

What we can conclude from this is that they’ll keep on this because there are some people who get in it. If everybody stopped being as stupid as these TELEDAMNED OPERATORS. They wouldn´t continue this pissing off..

I’m totally for this new law, decree, or whatever government wants to institute, this kind of calls just during commercial time, and with express authorization of the line owner.. This idea of users who don’t want to receive these inopportune calls will be well received…

* ( AN EX FRIEND OF MINE)

I fear the words

Specially mine.

I alone know what I am able to do when I start to drop them over the paper. And when that happens it is because I really need to overflow my emotions and feelings.

When I have nothing to do in the night’s solitude, in the middle of the jungle, where no one sees me or listens to me. When I can really be myself. No shame, but of myself. The foolish things we are able to do in those moments, only God knows, if He didn’t give up on knowing too. But listening to Chico Buarque, who, better than any woman, can unfurl her most intimate feelings, those, which even she doesn’t have the courage to visit inside herself, it’s almost impossible not to spit words. Feelings, thoughts, dreams, or what ever they are.

Shamefully, I catch myself sneaking the orkut pages of people I, long ago, cut off my life, of my companion. I think how strange it is to notice that people you introduced to dear friends, suddenly appear only as being a link between you and them. It is an odd situation this “cybernetichaotic’ world. Where the value of interpersonal relations becomes controlled by machines, there’s no knowledge of reality, personality, or the origin and end of relations.

And while I see the past, I pray to God to light and bless this person, for he can be happy, even though I haven’t been and never will be able to make him happy.

At the same time I think about all the entities which cross my way, all the strange types that exists in this tiny world, where we do something indefinable ( cause living must be something else than what we do everyday) I don’t think about death. Everyday we live and die a little. We leave things and grab others to substitute them.

I think about what I long for, but I’m sure that I don’t know what I long for. Maybe, hardly, I know what I don’t long for. But I end up falling into traps put by life in my so winding way.

Sorry if these words are so twisted. But I am just like that and as Gloria Gaynor sings: “I am what I am, and what I am needs no excuses” (no other sentence can translate me better). I don’t know what I sometimes do, specially tripping to the music of Chico Buarque and Amy Whinehouse.

I don’t know, I think that’s it. I spilled enough.

Thanks.

PS. Even though I graduated in Languages, I know and recognize that I’m not good with words and complex grammatical rules. Sorry.

PS. 2: this text was originally written in Portuguese and translated 2 years later. Maybe there are some mistakes, but there were in Portuguese too.