Document text
Over the Back Fence By HANK HENRY State list prevents telephone sales calls Well, it has finally happened. I have earned my way into the ranks of "old codgers." To be eligible, you must have lost just enough of your mental marbles to make you an open target for some suede-shoed, black-suited hotshot leaning back in his office chair somewhere in New York. I qualify because one of those men recently called me. I picked up the phone at about 5:30 p.m. Our son, his wife and their two young sons were in the living room. My wife Nora was outside watering the plants. The man had one of the most mellifluous voices I had ever heard. It flowed like melted butter over pancakes. Nothing in his voice was urgent; this guy just wanted to talk. So I listened, not feeling particularly harried by him. He said that his company was working with the AT&T credit card, the one I carry, and he had some wonderful things to offer. I interrupted to ask him to just send me some written material, and I also asked if I could cancel at any time. He assured me several times that I could get out scot-free at any time. As he continued to talk about the wonderful services his company would supply, I began to glaze over. In the meantime, my wife came back in from the front yard, everybody was talking and the news was playing on the TV. The phone conversation had been going on for about 10 minutes. The man kept asking questions that obviously required "yes" answers, a technique right out of the salesman�s handbook. I said the "yes" word several times like an automaton until he said something like, "I know you�ll agree that what I�ve outlined sounds interesting." I said, "Yes, but I want to be able to cancel if I don�t care for it." "You can." The guy had me. I told him to send me whatever he had and I would look it over. He checked to see if he had my name spelled correctly, and we finally hung up. I went into the kitchen, and it was there that it suddenly came to me that I was a real patsy. Five years ago, when I was a bit faster on the uptake, I probably would have hung up soon after the call started. Now, I got caught up in the conversation. This was the first such telephone sales call I had received in about a year. In the past, we had a black dot next to our name in the phone book that was supposed to indicate we didn�t want to receive any sales calls. But at first, they still kept coming. I asked one of the sales people, "Why are you calling us? I pay the telephone company 25 cents a month for that black dot next to our name." The man answered, "What dot? I�m working from a computer list." I learned after the call from the credit card guy that the black-dot law no longer exists. It was replaced by the last legislature with a new law setting up the "Oregon No Call List." Telemarketers are now required to keep a copy of the list on hand. Getting your name on the no-call list is not free: It costs $6.50, with annual renewals at $3. Calls from charitable organizations, political polls or opinion surveys, and calls from businesses you have bought from in the past, are the only exceptions. Most telemarketers don�t want to cross swords with the attorney general, who is in charge of enforcing the No Call List. Unlike the black-dot program, the telephone company is not in the loop for this one. To report a company making unauthorized calls, dial 1-877-877-9392, the Consumer Hotline in the attorney general�s office. The same telephone number is also the one to call for a form to register for the list, and it will take about 30 days to get your name on it. Telemarketers are mailed monthly updates of the list. I�m not sure what I ordered from that guy. He was never very specific about that, nor did he give me a price. Meanwhile, I am getting pretty good at playing the part of an old codger. (Hank Henry is a retired Jackson County commissioner and a former radio and television announcer. Call him at 772-9055.) Mail Tribune Home | Ottaway Newspapers, Inc. | Dow Jones & Co., Inc. | Privacy | Contact Us Copyright � 2000 Mail Tribune, Inc.