Well firstly, if you have stumbled upon this site by chance or were kind enough to follow a link that I posted out there somewhere; welcome.

I am not going to waste time on a meandering post detailing what this place is all about, its name should convey that.

One thing I will outline clearly from the start though; this is not a blog there is no such thing as a “blog”, the term is merely a new age wankword.

Anyway, onto matters of greater import.

There is an entity that has angered me. That entity is a large multinational whom I shall not name at this point, though I will say that they are a bank.

Is it a coincidence that bank rhymes with wank? Methinks not, but I digress…

The trend to outsource menial tasks such as internet tech support (Optus, I am looking at you), sales (yes Optus, I am now gazing directly at you) and the like is not a new one, but there has to be a line drawn somewhere.

Should our personal and financial information be given to people who bathe in The Ganges? Personally I think not; but more on that later.

Happily I am a human being of moderate skill and intelligence and am capable of making decisions as to what I purchase, from whom I purchase it and when I purchase it. If I want something, I shall have it. If that means forcing myself out of my dwelling and interacting with other human beings; so be it. If I can order it online, all the better – though I tend to be somewhat of an impatient fellow so braving the great unwashed is a task that I force myself through from time to time.

I know that we are supposedly in a global financial crisis (though with the Australian economy growing 0.6% in the past quarter it would seem not – thank you Paul Keating), but is there any need to create salesperson roles for those who would be better suited cleaning amenities facilities at the local park?

There are a number of creatures I am talking about here:

• The door to door salesperson
• The telemarketer

I am sorry – actually, I am not – but if I:

• wasn’t happy with my current electricity supplier, I would fucking drop them (this whole deregulation thing in Victoria has its benefits)
• wasn’t happy with my ISP, I would churn
• wanted to have The Age delivered, I would cancel my internet connection and procrastinate less at work
• actually paid for my mobile phone bill and wanted to switch providers, I know how to dial
• wasn’t a cat person and actually did feel like supporting a cause like “lost dogs”, I would give to the RSPCA and not to some dreadlocked hippy

… and these are just the motherfuckers who see fit to knock on my door.

Now I know that we have a do not call register here, but does it work? That is very fucking debatable.

I have been on it since its inception, but it doesn’t seem to stop Ashok and his crew from the sub continent calling up and begging for a moment of my time.

The thing is, that they always tend to call from a private number and become cagey when you ask for details of their organisation. It has become so bad that I have had to change my voicemail message to include a disclaimer about not accepting calls from a private number and I am tempted to mention overseas call centres as well.

The current saga that has lead me to this rant has been going on now for a couple of months.

They have evolved these telemarketers; and not in a way that would give Darwin cause for celebration.

It all started with the call one fateful afternoon at work, they called me on my mobile phone:

“Hello, may I please be speaking to a Mr Leaping Judas?”

Well, considering you have called my mobile, who did you expect? I know that in the sub continent it may be one per extended family, but it is a little different in Australia.

“May I ask who is calling?”

“It is Ashok, Mr Leaping’s personal relationship manager from [multinational deleted]”

OK, let us just halt there…

“personal relationship manager” ?

Christ, whilst I may be somewhat inept with regards to the management of my own personal relationships; the last thing that I need is to outsource it. If I am fucking up my relationships, imagine having them handled by someone several thousand kilometres away…

Now mind you, this particular bank who had chosen to call me, I have never had a relationship of any kind with and this makes the next bit a little scary…

The friendly voice on the other end of the phone then kindly deigns to inform me that before he could proceed with the call, that he would need me to:

“verify your full name, address, date of birth and mothers maiden name”

Yes, of course, and whilst I am at it, why don’t I give you my bank account details so that you can share the fortune of the Prince of Nigeria with me as well?

Upon my refusal to divulge such details, the “gentleman” at the other end of the phone became agitated and insisted that it was a matter of great importance. I promptly hung up.

He called back, several times…

I engaged him in some time wasting exercises for my own amusement, however it seems to have caused my number to have been placed on their hitlist.

Every couple of days since the initial incident, he or a colleague have called me, always pushing the “relationship manager” barrow. They are trying to sell me something, I am sure of it; and I know that it is something that I don’t want.

I am currently engaged in a complaint action with the said multinational, though it is going to be somewhat long and arduous I can tell… the point to my rant however is this:

• who came up with the term “relationship manager”, what does it mean and why are bottom feeding telemarketers describing themselves as such?
• how the fuck did some call centre in India get my mobile number (which is unlisted) and my name?
• why am I pilloried as being a racist when I ask to speak to someone in Australia regarding my harassment complaint?

Deep concerns my friends…

As mentioned earlier, if I want something, I will seek it out. I have at my disposal, the power of the realisation of Cyberdine Systems (google), a mind, legs, a wallet and a set of eyes.

Fuck you and your intrusive sales push you pack of bottom feeding cunts.

Stop sending people to my door, stop approaching me on the street, stop calling me – if your product is compelling enough, I will seek it out myself.

In harassing me with your sub standard salespeople, you are doing nothing for the image of your brand; rather you give it the impression of being a leper at a party with no Jatz.

It is 2009, realise that reputation is everything, particularly with social media spreading word of mouth like a Muslim with swine flu sneezing at a bar mitzvah.

Cease your invasive, intrusive tactics and embrace the modern world.

The old school sales model is dying. Its death need not be long and drawn out and your brand need not suffer in the process (and nor do the free market consumers).

Smarten up.