John Carney is a blast. If you've not listened to his show, you should check it out! Weeknights on 1220 KMOX. This is some raw video from Friday night's interview ...
Wednesday, November 18, 2009
Tuesday, November 17, 2009
Finally, I'm Back
After several long months of long hours, captaining the three ships that are my companies through very economically troubled waters, I'm glad to say that I'm back here, posting something to the blog. Granted, this particular post isn't that interesting - merely a "Welcome Back" to myself, of sorts, but the truth is that it's representative of so much more ... it means that I'm back into the groove of writing, which is where my heart truly lies.
You see, it's very hard to do what you truly love for a living. We all know this and very few of us are lucky enough to ever reach the point that our first love is our only profession. Personally, I've never reached that point ... not yet, at least. Granted, I don't have it bad. I own a motorcycle dealership and, since I love riding, one might consider that "doing what I love." You'd be partially right. There's a lot more to running a dealership than riding, however. A ton more, in fact, and most of that is like ... well, work. Secondly, I'm president of a large direct mail and direct marketing company. That's a cool job in that there are a lot of great people there and a lot of great clients that are truly fun to be around. However, when times are tough for everyone - like now - that too is a real job and not so much a labor of love. My other company, (the one that handles my newspaper and magazine columns and my book promotions), is also fun, in that I get to write for a living, create occasional ad layouts, do voice overs for cartoons and commercials ... all sorts of fun and interesting things. However, I've been so swamped with other things these past few months that I've been scrambling to get the columns out by deadline and while they've been good, it's not been "fun."
The fact is, I haven't written for pure, un-pressured "fun" in nearly half a year. However, all of that changed recently. You see, the PR Firm that handles stuff for my direct mail company did me a favor by sending out a bunch of press releases promoting the Books for Soldiers campaign with my book. That, in turn, resulted in a couple of recent interviews, (KMOX Radio with John Carney - a great guy, by the way, and KSDK Channel 5 in St. Louis on their Sunday morning edition of Show Me St. Louis). While doing these interviews, I was able to talk about the troops program and the different signings that I've done. I talked about the people that I've met along the way who really get a kick out of the tales in the book or from my various columns and how they always have a story to share, as well. And that, my friends, is why I write. It's about the stories. Sharing laughter with people is infectious, prompting them to share stories with you, but also with others around them. In the end, everyone gets a laugh and it brightens everyone's day just a little bit. The story teller feels good for having brought a smile to someone's face and the reader feels good because, not only did they get a laugh, but they've also been reminded of similar funny things that have happened to them. Over all, it reminds us all that life is filled with humor and good times - all you have to do is be in the mood to look for it.
And so, being brought back to the mindset of living for the laughs, I'm back to writing for fun. A renewed vigor and interest in not only sharing my tales, but hearing tales from others that will hopefully spawn more laughter and good mood to others along the path. Will I keep up with the blog indefinitely? I certainly hope so. Because after all, what I write here is not written for publication, profit or even publicity ... it's written for fun. And that, my friends, is what I love to do.
Until next time ...
All the best,
WDL
You see, it's very hard to do what you truly love for a living. We all know this and very few of us are lucky enough to ever reach the point that our first love is our only profession. Personally, I've never reached that point ... not yet, at least. Granted, I don't have it bad. I own a motorcycle dealership and, since I love riding, one might consider that "doing what I love." You'd be partially right. There's a lot more to running a dealership than riding, however. A ton more, in fact, and most of that is like ... well, work. Secondly, I'm president of a large direct mail and direct marketing company. That's a cool job in that there are a lot of great people there and a lot of great clients that are truly fun to be around. However, when times are tough for everyone - like now - that too is a real job and not so much a labor of love. My other company, (the one that handles my newspaper and magazine columns and my book promotions), is also fun, in that I get to write for a living, create occasional ad layouts, do voice overs for cartoons and commercials ... all sorts of fun and interesting things. However, I've been so swamped with other things these past few months that I've been scrambling to get the columns out by deadline and while they've been good, it's not been "fun."
The fact is, I haven't written for pure, un-pressured "fun" in nearly half a year. However, all of that changed recently. You see, the PR Firm that handles stuff for my direct mail company did me a favor by sending out a bunch of press releases promoting the Books for Soldiers campaign with my book. That, in turn, resulted in a couple of recent interviews, (KMOX Radio with John Carney - a great guy, by the way, and KSDK Channel 5 in St. Louis on their Sunday morning edition of Show Me St. Louis). While doing these interviews, I was able to talk about the troops program and the different signings that I've done. I talked about the people that I've met along the way who really get a kick out of the tales in the book or from my various columns and how they always have a story to share, as well. And that, my friends, is why I write. It's about the stories. Sharing laughter with people is infectious, prompting them to share stories with you, but also with others around them. In the end, everyone gets a laugh and it brightens everyone's day just a little bit. The story teller feels good for having brought a smile to someone's face and the reader feels good because, not only did they get a laugh, but they've also been reminded of similar funny things that have happened to them. Over all, it reminds us all that life is filled with humor and good times - all you have to do is be in the mood to look for it.
And so, being brought back to the mindset of living for the laughs, I'm back to writing for fun. A renewed vigor and interest in not only sharing my tales, but hearing tales from others that will hopefully spawn more laughter and good mood to others along the path. Will I keep up with the blog indefinitely? I certainly hope so. Because after all, what I write here is not written for publication, profit or even publicity ... it's written for fun. And that, my friends, is what I love to do.
Until next time ...
All the best,
WDL
Wednesday, September 17, 2008
Just doing the job ...
"Afternoon sir. I'm Trooper Cox with the Missouri State Highway Patrol," the motorcycle cop said as he leaned into my already opened window. I had seen both he and his partner parked on the shoulder as I came down the hill on Interstate 44. Unfortunately, the prospect of two motorcycles didn't throw any warning bells in my mind until I noticed the blue uniforms that they were both wearing. By then, the only thing I could do was merge into the center lane and feign innocence. Didn't work, obviously.
"My partner clocked you at 75-miles per hour coming down that hill and the limit is posted at 60. Is there any reason for the large difference there?"
Now how in the hell do you answer that question? I stared blankly as a million responses came to my mind ...
I didn't see you in time to slow down any further?
Because I slowed down before cresting the hill, just in case?
Uh, no sprechen ze Inglis?
What I finally settled on, I think, was something like "Because the speed limit is posted too low?" Of course, my sense of humor seems to get lost on most members of the Police, but at least this guy was extremely nice about it. He smiled as he asked to see my ID and proof of insurance.
"15 miles over the posted limit, I'm going to have to write you a citation for that. I know that's not what you want to hear." he said. "However, I'll be as quick as I can and get you back on your way." With that, he walked back to his motorcycle and took a clipboard from his saddlebag. I spent the next several minutes looking through my glove box, the center console, wherever I could in the car so as to look busy and not meet the knowing gazes of the cars passing me along the highway. After all, they were the very ones that I had blown past several miles before and I just knew that they were poking their passengers in the ribs and pointing, "Look, that jerk got a ticket! Ha! Good for the Policeman!"
When the patrolman returned with my Goldenrod copy of the certificate of driving excellence, (I've got quite a collection of these, I must admit), I thanked him for his professionalism and courtesy. I asked if he had saddlebags on that bike and, as he said yes, I handed him a copy of my book, (I had already inscribed a message to him inside the cover telling him to be safe out there). I pointed out to him that I had already been issued the ticket so it wasn't a bribe in any way, but a gift of respect for the hard work that the State Patrol does, (and a showing of no hard feelings as he was simply doing his job. I was, after all, the one breaking the law).
Now, in case there is some law against patrolmen accepting gifts even after issuing a ticket, I'll not say whether he accepted the book or not. It's very possible that he informed me that he could not and therefore refused. Basically, this guy was a great Trooper, kind, courteous and truly seemed to be one of the good guys. I respect that and wouldn't want to accidentally cause him any trouble while trying to praise him for his actions. My point is, that in a society where cops, military and other persons of authority are all too often disrespected by the media and the public, I think it's important to shed some light on the good ones. Of course, he could have let me off with a warning, but then I don't think I'd have written this posting.
As for the other drivers who I'm sure were laughing at me as they passed by? I waited until I was well out of the view of the good Patrolman and made it a point to catch and pass every last one of them. I even waved at a few who looked back at me with surprise ... just to show that there were no hard feelings.
All the best,
WDL
Saturday, July 19, 2008
Drive Thru Etiquette
"Yeah, hi. Give me two Chicken McNugget Happy Meals, one with a chocolate milk and the other with a white milk, please." I hate feeding my kids deep-fried crap as much as anyone, but sometimes in this world there is no other option. I waited for what seemed forever for a response. I was beginning to think that the girl working drive thru was either hearing impaired, or her headset had shorted out. Finally, she came with a crackled answer ...
"Sir? We don't have chocolate milk."
"You're out of it?" I don't know why I asked this, other than to make her rephrase her statement. Her tone, along with the wording she chose, made it sound as though she were calling me an idiot.
"No sir. I said, we don't have chocolate milk. You know? We don't sell it." (Smart mouthed little ... well, you know).
"That's funny, you've sold chocolate milk for several decades, right up through last Thursday. Did Ronald suddenly decide that was off the menu?" (Yup. She'd pissed me off. Didn't take much after the trying day that I'd had).
"Hold on." (Forgetting to turn off her microphone) "Hey, Melinda? There's some guy out here who is trying to tell me that we sell chocolate milk. He's being an asshole about it! (pause) No we don't! (another pause) Where? I've looked all over this stupid thing. (and another) Oh. Okay." (Obviously thinking she's turning her mic back on) "---------SILENCE---------"
(At least 60-seconds go by. A car behind me gives a quick warning beep of his gay little import horn. As I sneer into the side mirror, he quickly looks away as though it wasn't him. He was the only car back there).
"Hello? Just so you know, when you called me an asshole your mic was still on, so you probably turned it off, which is why I can't hear you."
"Um ... (another pause) ... will these be for a boy or a girl?"
Having one of each, I wasn't quite sure how to answer this. Did she think that one child was going to consume two Happy Meals? Was this common? I almost didn't doubt it. And why didn't she just ask if I'd like Transformers or Princesses? Why did it have to be a boy/girl thing? As it turns out, my daughter likes to play with the boy toys, so I wanted two Transformers Happy Meals. However, by answering two "boys", I'd certainly be giving my sweet daughter a complex. (Never mind the fact that my kids weren't even in the car with me ... it had been a long day and I was out to prove a point).
"Two Transformers Meals, please."
"So, two BOYS meals?"
Alright, now I was irritated. "No. Two Transformers Happy Meals. I'm not telling you if they are for boys or for girls. That is none of your business and not for you to label. A girl can play with Transformers, right? And, since you're getting snippety with me and you already have labeled me as an asshole, I'm going to take advantage of my newfound title and provide you with a little advice. Don't judge people by what they eat or by how they react to your dumb mistakes and don't stereotype your Happy Meals by gender when it's perfectly okay for a girl to get a Transformer meal or a boy to get a Princess meal for that matter, you understand?"
"Excuse me, sir? (Different voice). My name is Melinda and I'm the crew chief. I'm sorry that we had that confusion there. Could you please pull around to the window for your total?"
"Yes, Melinda. But you should tell the new girl there that her tone was quite rude ...
My statement was cut short by a long, high-pitched, tin-horn blare from behind me.
"HOLD ON, YOU STUPID JERK!" I yelled. My face was red and I knew that if my kids had been in the car, I would have certainly set a horrible example for them. A little sewing machine motor revved behind me and I swung my door open, bending my six-foot-seven-inch frame out to its full height. The car quickly backed up and raced for an exit.
"Sir? Are you there?" Melinda sounded concerned.
I thought about what I'd just done. To this woman, who was only privy to the audio version of the past thirty-seconds, I was pretty sure that I sounded like a raving lunatic or a very unfortunate sufferer of Terrett's Syndrome. There was absolutely no way I was going to show my face at that window. Besides, I was pretty certain that somebody would have been spitting in something by that point.
In a fraction of a second my mind decided that the best way to handle this situation was to flee. Flee, I did. I jammed the gear selector into drive and peeled away from the box, bumped over the curb and headed out the exit. In my mirror I could see a gathering of faces jumbled into the drive thru window protrusion like clowns staring out of a small car.
I raced to the next town another five minutes down the Interstate and pulled to the McDonald's drive thru order box. I was going to be late and wasting very expensive gas, but such is the price for being an asshole at the drive thru. I was truly feeling pretty bad about myself.
...
"Will those be for boys or girls," the new girl asked. The ill temper from the hard day flared with a slight redness to my ears as I replied ...
"Two boys, please." There. That wasn't so bad. Just suck it up and play the game and everything will work out fine. I actually felt a little better.
"Okay, sir? Which one gets the chocolate milk ... the first one or the second one?"
I shook my head in disgust and silently pulled forward. Since the meals were identical and they hand you the drinks totally separate from the meal boxes anyway, I guessed she'd just have to sweat out that tough decision. Maybe ... just maybe, it isn't me after all.
All the best,
WDL
Monday, July 7, 2008
Careful ... You'll Go Blind Doing That
Okay, so I've been googling myself lately. No, you shouldn't think like that. I'm referring, of course, to Google - the search engine. And yes, I'm fully agreeing with those who think that googling one's self indicates all kinds of psychological problems. I don't deny it ... I just deal with it.
However, with the release of the new book I've become accustomed to googling the title, (as well as myself), to see where it's cropping up in the world of booksellers. I figure that the more places my book sells, the better chance I have of someone accidentally buying it, right? (What is this, I thought I ordered Grisham's new novel? Oh well, this one has a funny title, maybe I'll keep it).
When one googles himself, I've realized, one finds that the world is not, in fact, a small place. You go through life - each day feeling as though you are special - as though you've been put here for a specific reason and to do great things. You feel as though you are the one among billions, a true individual completely different from all others and certainly capable of great things. Then, you find that your name ... I mean "YOUR" name ... doesn't even come up on the first page of google. Sure, there are William Douglas Little's in the first spot, but you know what? Not me. There are William's (in bold), Douglas's (also in bold) and all types and sorts of references to Little (yup ... bold and independent of the first bolds). As for me? I show up on like page 1,928 ... somewhere under "... Little people find difficulty in a tall world." I don't know what that means, except obviously I don't google well ... yet!
Unlike it's author, however, my book googles well. MEXICAN BOWL FISHING finds my book, (and my site), at the very top now. Hooray for the techy guys at Merus Solutions for making that happen. Hey, we beat out Amazon, which is no easy feat!
The fun part, I've decided, is scrolling through the search results for the book, (my name results are just frustrating), and seeing where it is for sale around the world. The different sites are quite interesting and I thought, (obviously I need more hobbies), I would share some of the links with you. Why? I have no idea. I guess this blog was just getting too damned entertaining or something. Gotta bore it down a little ...
www.booktopia.com.au/mexican-bowl-fishing-and-other-tales-of-life/prod9781434382580.html finds the book in Austria ... or is .au Australia? Okay, whichever. Whup, it's in English ... must be Australia. At least they'll be able to read it there. Interesting, Australian dollars are either valued much less than the American dollar, (is that even possible?), or those poor people are going to pay through the nose for my book! (Or, more likely, they won't).
www.authorhouse.co.uk/BookStore/BookStoreSearchResults~SearchType~bis~SearchBisacCode~HUM000000-1.aspx Here's one in the UK, which isn't all that interesting. I mean, they're pretty much like us ... without the flouride.
www.libreriauniversitaria.it/books_family_relationships-FAM000-books_8.htm Is Italian. "You talkin' to me?" ... or I guess, "You talkin' di me" maybe? Well, I guess "di" is actually "by". Nevermind.
www.amazon.co.jp/Mexican-Bowl-Fishing-Other-Tales/dp/1434382583 this one cracks me up. Japan. And, I hope that it does well there. I'll never know as I can't understand the characters that they use for letters and I'm assuming I'll not be able to read the sales reports. I wonder if they'll be paying royalties in Yen? (Or is that China?)
Those are the most interesting thus far. Or, perhaps they're not that interesting at all. I suppose that's within the eye of the beholder. But then, how interesting did you expect a posting to be considering that the poster has admittedly been googling himself? Honestly.
Yahoo! is next, I suppose. (Maybe it's time I got a real life?)
All the best,
WDL
Wednesday, May 28, 2008
So Long, Answering Machine Days
Well, it's happened. Somehow, we seem to be getting lazier. As if microwave popcorn in front of American Idol with a remote in our hands weren't enough, now we've all gotten to the point that we no longer record our own answering machine messages. I guess that's an outdated thing to say. The proper terminology should be voicemail. Afterall, answering machines were so last century.
Remember back in the 80's when those giant boxes with plastic fake-wood fronts donned phone tables and desktops in our homes for the first time? A full sized cassette tape took up a 5 X 4 area on the top and we'd listen to the screech of fast rewind after hearing our messages. It was, at the time, the coolest thing there was. We as a nation were excited to have an answering machine. So excited, in fact, that we'd group together as families and author the most creative messages we could come up with. Often an accapella, off-key song was the answer - usually to the tune of Happy Birthday for some reason.
"You've reached the Jones' res-i-dence,
And it on-ly makes sense,
That you'd get our re-cord-ing,
Leave a message after this sentence ... BEEP!"
I assume it was the novelty that went along with a newfound toy that caused us to come up with group messages to greet our callers. Or perhaps it was just a simpler time when families actually did things like that together ... as a family. It could be that it was the horrible robotic voice alternative, "Please leave a mes - sage af - ter the tone" that made us want for something more; something special. Or, maybe it was a time in history when every other call wasn't associated with sales or surveys (or for many these days, collections). We weren't afraid to answer the phone when home and we were actually excited to greet missed calls with something welcoming.
Not any more.
Now adays, everyone has a cell phone and everyone uses voicemail. The recordings are digital. Gone are the days of a distorted, worn tape mishaping the words and encouraging an exciting game of "what did they say?" Now, everyone just looks at a digital readout, (or iPhone users get a computer screen), where they can see the caller's name, time of the message, length of the recording and decide whether they even want to listen. There is no more intrigue, no more surprise. It used to be like opening a Christmas present or a box of Cracker Jacks, but now we have the ability to kill the messenger before even hearing the message. That's how much we care about our callers.
I've recently noticed that nobody records thier own messages anymore. 99% of the numbers I call are answered by the same, abrupt-sounding lady's voice telling me that "555-1212 is unavailable. Please leave a message after the tone. When finished recording your message, you may hang up or press one for more options." Did I dial the right number? Do I know if I've actually reached John Doe's telephone or just one of the 55-million other people who have the same dyke-sounding chick on their machine? Nope. Just gotta' leave the message and hope for the best. It's a gamble. Think about the poor sap who accidentally calls his mother's number thinking it's his girlfriend ... "BEEP! Hey baby, I was just thinking about what I'd like to do to you ..."
So I ask you, where has our creativity gone as a society? Where has the ingenuity and gumption gone that used to lather our taste buds in anticipation of a truly clever message? For me, I think the answer lies in the annoyance of most phone calls. It always seems to be someone who I don't want to talk to. You know, telemarketers, bankers, a spouse complaining. That last one slipped, I didn't mean to include that, of course.
If I had the guts to do it, I would make it a priority to have fun with my voicemail messages. I'd be honest and straight-forward in their delivery, not promising everyone that their call is important to me, but instead, telling them the God's honest truth ...
"Hi, you've reached my voicemail. Your call may or may not be very important to me, depending upon who you are and what you want. Therefore, leave me a message after the tone and if I call you back, you were important. If I don't, you may want to read into that. Thanks for calling! BEEP!"
Or ...
"Hi, this is my voicemail, which either means that I'm away from the phone or - more likely - I've looked at the number and determined that it is one that I don't want to answer right now. Think about it. It's a cell phone, for crying out loud. What are the chances that I really don't have it with me? BEEP!"
Any maybe ...
"This is my voicemail. What just happened was, I heard my phone ring and stopped my conversation long enough to look at the screen and see that it was you. Then, I rolled my eyes in a very exaggerated fashion, shook my head, commented to whomever I was speaking that it was "just you" and that "you could wait". I chuckled, then hit DISREGARD and went back to my life. Therefore, you can now choose to leave a message or not, depending on how all that makes you feel ... BEEP!"
Or, perhaps my favorite ...
"You've reached my phone. If you are a telemarketer, press END now. If you are a bill collector, press END now. If you are a disgruntled employee, press END now. If you are an attorney notifying me of my inclusion in the will of a long-lost and wealthy relative, or if you are Ed McMahon calling to inform me of my recent winning, please leave a message after the tone and I will call you back so fast your head will spin. All others, please press END now. Thank you. BEEP!"
But of course, there are those times that you don't want to be rude, only to drive your callers crazy. For that particular situation, may I recommend something along the lines of ...
"Thank you for calling. For English, press one now. Para español, pulse dos ... BEEP! YOU HAVE SELECTED PORTUGUESE: Muito obrigado pela chamada. Como posso ajudá-lo hoje? ... BEEP! YOU HAVE SELECTED HINDI: कॉल करने के लिए धन्यवाद . आज की मदद से आप कैसे कर सकते हैं ? ... BEEP! YOU HAVE SELECTED BULGARIAN: Благодарим ви за свикване. Как мога да ви помогне да днес? ..."
All the best,
WDL
Remember back in the 80's when those giant boxes with plastic fake-wood fronts donned phone tables and desktops in our homes for the first time? A full sized cassette tape took up a 5 X 4 area on the top and we'd listen to the screech of fast rewind after hearing our messages. It was, at the time, the coolest thing there was. We as a nation were excited to have an answering machine. So excited, in fact, that we'd group together as families and author the most creative messages we could come up with. Often an accapella, off-key song was the answer - usually to the tune of Happy Birthday for some reason.
"You've reached the Jones' res-i-dence,
And it on-ly makes sense,
That you'd get our re-cord-ing,
Leave a message after this sentence ... BEEP!"
I assume it was the novelty that went along with a newfound toy that caused us to come up with group messages to greet our callers. Or perhaps it was just a simpler time when families actually did things like that together ... as a family. It could be that it was the horrible robotic voice alternative, "Please leave a mes - sage af - ter the tone" that made us want for something more; something special. Or, maybe it was a time in history when every other call wasn't associated with sales or surveys (or for many these days, collections). We weren't afraid to answer the phone when home and we were actually excited to greet missed calls with something welcoming.
Not any more.
Now adays, everyone has a cell phone and everyone uses voicemail. The recordings are digital. Gone are the days of a distorted, worn tape mishaping the words and encouraging an exciting game of "what did they say?" Now, everyone just looks at a digital readout, (or iPhone users get a computer screen), where they can see the caller's name, time of the message, length of the recording and decide whether they even want to listen. There is no more intrigue, no more surprise. It used to be like opening a Christmas present or a box of Cracker Jacks, but now we have the ability to kill the messenger before even hearing the message. That's how much we care about our callers.
I've recently noticed that nobody records thier own messages anymore. 99% of the numbers I call are answered by the same, abrupt-sounding lady's voice telling me that "555-1212 is unavailable. Please leave a message after the tone. When finished recording your message, you may hang up or press one for more options." Did I dial the right number? Do I know if I've actually reached John Doe's telephone or just one of the 55-million other people who have the same dyke-sounding chick on their machine? Nope. Just gotta' leave the message and hope for the best. It's a gamble. Think about the poor sap who accidentally calls his mother's number thinking it's his girlfriend ... "BEEP! Hey baby, I was just thinking about what I'd like to do to you ..."
So I ask you, where has our creativity gone as a society? Where has the ingenuity and gumption gone that used to lather our taste buds in anticipation of a truly clever message? For me, I think the answer lies in the annoyance of most phone calls. It always seems to be someone who I don't want to talk to. You know, telemarketers, bankers, a spouse complaining. That last one slipped, I didn't mean to include that, of course.
If I had the guts to do it, I would make it a priority to have fun with my voicemail messages. I'd be honest and straight-forward in their delivery, not promising everyone that their call is important to me, but instead, telling them the God's honest truth ...
"Hi, you've reached my voicemail. Your call may or may not be very important to me, depending upon who you are and what you want. Therefore, leave me a message after the tone and if I call you back, you were important. If I don't, you may want to read into that. Thanks for calling! BEEP!"
Or ...
"Hi, this is my voicemail, which either means that I'm away from the phone or - more likely - I've looked at the number and determined that it is one that I don't want to answer right now. Think about it. It's a cell phone, for crying out loud. What are the chances that I really don't have it with me? BEEP!"
Any maybe ...
"This is my voicemail. What just happened was, I heard my phone ring and stopped my conversation long enough to look at the screen and see that it was you. Then, I rolled my eyes in a very exaggerated fashion, shook my head, commented to whomever I was speaking that it was "just you" and that "you could wait". I chuckled, then hit DISREGARD and went back to my life. Therefore, you can now choose to leave a message or not, depending on how all that makes you feel ... BEEP!"
Or, perhaps my favorite ...
"You've reached my phone. If you are a telemarketer, press END now. If you are a bill collector, press END now. If you are a disgruntled employee, press END now. If you are an attorney notifying me of my inclusion in the will of a long-lost and wealthy relative, or if you are Ed McMahon calling to inform me of my recent winning, please leave a message after the tone and I will call you back so fast your head will spin. All others, please press END now. Thank you. BEEP!"
But of course, there are those times that you don't want to be rude, only to drive your callers crazy. For that particular situation, may I recommend something along the lines of ...
"Thank you for calling. For English, press one now. Para español, pulse dos ... BEEP! YOU HAVE SELECTED PORTUGUESE: Muito obrigado pela chamada. Como posso ajudá-lo hoje? ... BEEP! YOU HAVE SELECTED HINDI: कॉल करने के लिए धन्यवाद . आज की मदद से आप कैसे कर सकते हैं ? ... BEEP! YOU HAVE SELECTED BULGARIAN: Благодарим ви за свикване. Как мога да ви помогне да днес? ..."
All the best,
WDL
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