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Just Say...
Last night the phone rang, and a telemarketer from the Hilton hotel chain tried to get me to go to a Manhattan Hilton for a two-night-stay for 199. The catch? We'd have to sit through a two-hour spiel for Hilton timeshares.
I hate timeshares. With a passion. When I was little my parents took us all to one or two of those things, and we'd receive a cheap set of steak knives or some such crap in exchange for having our arms twisted for two hours. It wasn't worth it then (as my folks soon figured out), and it's even less worth it today. Exposing myself to two hours of high-pressure salesmanship is just not worth it.
I'm really remarkably anti-commercial, which makes me about as out of place in George W.'s America as anyone could possibly be. Hmm, another thing that makes me see red are those damn multi-level-marketing schemes...but that's another topic.
So anyway, as soon as the telemarketer (a pleasant-sounding woman) mentioned timeshares I politely interrupted her.
"I'm sorry," I said, "but I have a strict policy against timeshares. Thanks anyway."
And it worked! She thanked me and hung up. I was stunned.
By the way, I think the Hilton people got around the federal do-not-call list thing because we'd stayed at a Hampton Inn a few months ago; they're part of the chain, and that establishes the necessary "prior business association".
Other fronts: Sebastian became a puke machine on Wednesday night, thanks to a stomach virus. I had to stay home yesterday to help take care of him. He's finally starting to feel better today, thank goodness.
The computer may need a new IDE controller, apparently. It seems the one on the motherboard may be shot. As should be the guy who sold me that damned system - not to mention the producers of "Thomas the Tank Engine: Trouble On The Tracks", of course.
I hate timeshares. With a passion. When I was little my parents took us all to one or two of those things, and we'd receive a cheap set of steak knives or some such crap in exchange for having our arms twisted for two hours. It wasn't worth it then (as my folks soon figured out), and it's even less worth it today. Exposing myself to two hours of high-pressure salesmanship is just not worth it.
I'm really remarkably anti-commercial, which makes me about as out of place in George W.'s America as anyone could possibly be. Hmm, another thing that makes me see red are those damn multi-level-marketing schemes...but that's another topic.
So anyway, as soon as the telemarketer (a pleasant-sounding woman) mentioned timeshares I politely interrupted her.
"I'm sorry," I said, "but I have a strict policy against timeshares. Thanks anyway."
And it worked! She thanked me and hung up. I was stunned.
By the way, I think the Hilton people got around the federal do-not-call list thing because we'd stayed at a Hampton Inn a few months ago; they're part of the chain, and that establishes the necessary "prior business association".
Other fronts: Sebastian became a puke machine on Wednesday night, thanks to a stomach virus. I had to stay home yesterday to help take care of him. He's finally starting to feel better today, thank goodness.
The computer may need a new IDE controller, apparently. It seems the one on the motherboard may be shot. As should be the guy who sold me that damned system - not to mention the producers of "Thomas the Tank Engine: Trouble On The Tracks", of course.