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“CONGRATULATIONS! You have subscribed to Fun Facts of the Day! Your Fun Fact for today is…”
You may recognise this response to a text message from a telemarketer, and have enjoyed the lengthy game the telemarketer’s target played with him (see here to get the whole exchange).
One of my favourite responses is this one: "Now before I listen to your pitch, there are a few things we need to cover. My minimum rate for listening is $35 an hour. Of course, I can offer you upgrades that give you additional benefits, as well as a greater chance that I may buy what you are selling. The deluxe package is $55 per hour and offers a 2% chance of purchase, and the super-deluxe package is $75 per hour, and offers a 3% chance of purchase.
"Now before we get to that, I will need you to send in an application as well as a minimal application fee of $55. You will also need to include with your payment a $35 payment for a credit report. Once your credit has been approved, I will be able to accept your non-refundable good-faith security deposit, which I require, of $100. After closing, and you have paid my standard closing costs of $250, we will then be able to proceed with your sales pitch. Can I sign you up?"
I used a similar idea – that my time is worth money – many years ago to deal with unceasing demands for payment. I had had a blood test, and the lab concerned seemed unable to wrap its head around the fact that I’d paid for it. Every two months, I would receive a threat that I was about to be handed over, and I would have to do the whole exercise again – hauling out the records, emailing them, spending time on the phone… eventually, I sent the lab an invoice for time spent, phone calls and paper costs. I never heard from them again.
I get beside myself with irritation at telemarketing calls. Whether the calls take place by day, when I’m working, or by night when I’m not, I find them intrusive and disrespectful of my time. I always wondered why they are used at all as a sales tool, until I discovered that, unlike me, a small percentage of people actually get sucked in to a long conversation, and an even smaller percentage buy the product.
But that small percent must be enough to keep this pernicious evil alive: two years ago, the telemarket was apparently worth some $900bn in annuals sales according to ATA (the American Telemarketing Association, which I gather is now called PACE – the Professional Association for Customer Engagement).
Something that local companies don’t seem to have thought much about is this: telemarketing is not just about lead or sale generation; it’s also about your company’s reputation and brand. You need to do it really professionally to avoid tarnishing your image.
Here’s an example: one of the Big Four banks, the one I bank with, called me to sell an insurance product.
I said I had no need of the product, and put the phone down. Hours later, a different voice called with the same offer. I repeated my response and asked that I be removed from their list. “Certainly,” said the young lady. The next day, I received another two calls with the same offer.
Was I happy with my bank? Did my heart feel warm and cosy at the thought of them? Nyet! I tucked away a little bit of antagonism and distrust towards the bank which lingers even months down the track. Something for brands that opt for this sales method to think about.
One of the simplest ways of getting rid of the telemarketing call is simply to say: “I do not make purchases over the phone. Goodbye.” For those who don’t like to be rude and put the phone down in someone’s ear, say: “I am busy right now – can I have your phone number at home and I’ll call you back when you’re bathing your baby?”
Alternatively, just say: “Hold on, please…” put the handset on your desk or counter, and go about your business. Guaranteed they’ll hang up shortly.
What’s your best technique for handling intrusive sales pitches? Let us know and you could get published.
*Mandi Smallhorne is a versatile journalist and editor. Views expressed are her own. Follow her on twitter.
You may recognise this response to a text message from a telemarketer, and have enjoyed the lengthy game the telemarketer’s target played with him (see here to get the whole exchange).
One of my favourite responses is this one: "Now before I listen to your pitch, there are a few things we need to cover. My minimum rate for listening is $35 an hour. Of course, I can offer you upgrades that give you additional benefits, as well as a greater chance that I may buy what you are selling. The deluxe package is $55 per hour and offers a 2% chance of purchase, and the super-deluxe package is $75 per hour, and offers a 3% chance of purchase.
"Now before we get to that, I will need you to send in an application as well as a minimal application fee of $55. You will also need to include with your payment a $35 payment for a credit report. Once your credit has been approved, I will be able to accept your non-refundable good-faith security deposit, which I require, of $100. After closing, and you have paid my standard closing costs of $250, we will then be able to proceed with your sales pitch. Can I sign you up?"
I used a similar idea – that my time is worth money – many years ago to deal with unceasing demands for payment. I had had a blood test, and the lab concerned seemed unable to wrap its head around the fact that I’d paid for it. Every two months, I would receive a threat that I was about to be handed over, and I would have to do the whole exercise again – hauling out the records, emailing them, spending time on the phone… eventually, I sent the lab an invoice for time spent, phone calls and paper costs. I never heard from them again.
I get beside myself with irritation at telemarketing calls. Whether the calls take place by day, when I’m working, or by night when I’m not, I find them intrusive and disrespectful of my time. I always wondered why they are used at all as a sales tool, until I discovered that, unlike me, a small percentage of people actually get sucked in to a long conversation, and an even smaller percentage buy the product.
But that small percent must be enough to keep this pernicious evil alive: two years ago, the telemarket was apparently worth some $900bn in annuals sales according to ATA (the American Telemarketing Association, which I gather is now called PACE – the Professional Association for Customer Engagement).
Something that local companies don’t seem to have thought much about is this: telemarketing is not just about lead or sale generation; it’s also about your company’s reputation and brand. You need to do it really professionally to avoid tarnishing your image.
Here’s an example: one of the Big Four banks, the one I bank with, called me to sell an insurance product.
I said I had no need of the product, and put the phone down. Hours later, a different voice called with the same offer. I repeated my response and asked that I be removed from their list. “Certainly,” said the young lady. The next day, I received another two calls with the same offer.
Was I happy with my bank? Did my heart feel warm and cosy at the thought of them? Nyet! I tucked away a little bit of antagonism and distrust towards the bank which lingers even months down the track. Something for brands that opt for this sales method to think about.
One of the simplest ways of getting rid of the telemarketing call is simply to say: “I do not make purchases over the phone. Goodbye.” For those who don’t like to be rude and put the phone down in someone’s ear, say: “I am busy right now – can I have your phone number at home and I’ll call you back when you’re bathing your baby?”
Alternatively, just say: “Hold on, please…” put the handset on your desk or counter, and go about your business. Guaranteed they’ll hang up shortly.
What’s your best technique for handling intrusive sales pitches? Let us know and you could get published.
*Mandi Smallhorne is a versatile journalist and editor. Views expressed are her own. Follow her on twitter.
