Here in Australia we are just a phone call away from India. And in the case of our house that phone call is at 4:05 every afternoon.
The amazing part is that it is a different caller each time – apart from the silent ones or the hissers – and there is a slightly different pitch thrown with every one.
Today’s was the ” NBN “- supposedly our developing national Broadband Network. It’s an ongoing fustercluck from both the federal government and a private quasi-corporation who pretend it is going to replace wires with optical cables and then up the speed of our internet connections. If it promised to connect us to unicorns and Judge Crater I would give it some serious credence, but as it is…
Now the Indian scammers have picked up on it and are ringing with either threats or promises to get us to allow malware to be installed in our computers. Today’s question revolved around technical work that was going on and what download speed we had. I suspect it was a complex shell game to allow some sort of ” test ” that would install a spyware program looking for passwords.
When the confused girl asked what speed we were experiencing I told her that we generally got about 350 MPH but this fell to 320 with drop tanks. Full throttle and water injection could up it to 385 but if you ran the computer too long at this setting the exhaust manifold would burn away. I was dead serious about this.
I’m not sure I cleared up her confusion.
I have been resigned for a long time now to the sound of the telephone ringing just before tea-time. It’ll be the land line – not the mobile – and it will have the classic silence and clicking before a subcontinental voice comes on and lies to me.
The lie will be one of the classics – Telstra Technical Department, Microsoft Technical Support, Australian Taxation Office, Australian Federal Police, roof solar panels,etc.
It will commence with the voice asking me if I am Mr. Stein, or the householder. I have learned to ignore this question and ask directly to whom I am speaking. Generally they will give a first name and a slightly mumbled organisation name. Very few of them ever admit to being a Gupta or a Ranjit…it is always a Brad or a Janet. In many cases you can hear the Hindi being screeched in the background and in one instance I could swear I could hear the humidity…
I’ve tried everything. Abruptness, sugary sweetness, baffled confusion, a heavy German accent…none of it seems to stem the flow of bullshit from the receiver’s earpiece. It’s only a whim or the effect of the afternoon cocktail that makes a difference between swearing at them and singing to them. But I grow tired of it – especially when I have better things to do.
So now I am going to start firing off a series of letters of complaint to the only authority who can put a stop to it – the Indian government. If they are going to host these electronic bedbugs, they can be held up for airing as well as the bedding. I’m sure it will be for the most part futile, but the pleasure to be had in abusing a dignitary for a dollar is cheap enough amusement.
No really. It’s all legitimate. I’m not calling from India…but I am just two suburbs away from Canning Vale…*
Goodness gracious me, it is perfectly correct and fine for me to refer to myself as I, RS. Golly Golly Gosh. My name really is Richard Stein, and it really is I calling. You just have to listen carefully for the comma. It only comes around once in 80 some-odd years. It’s a Haley’s Comma**.
I think this will be a perfect time to get myself one of those telephone schemes where you get to make free calls overseas. I will call people selected at random in the United States and introduce myself as I, RS. Instead of threatening them with investigation and jail time if they don’t give me their computer and credit card details, I will offer them discounts on canned luncheon meat.
Of course eventually someone I phone is going to twig that it is a Spam call, and either get mad or start to laugh. Either way I am onto a good thing, because I have written down the mobile telephone numbers of several people I detest and I am going to blurt them out over the phone. With a bit of luck it will go viral, or at least bacterial.
I’ll be happy with any form of sepsis.
*Local suburb with many people of Indian ethnicity in it, is it?
**And wasn’t that a fraud the last time it appeared. I’m damned if I am going to stay alive just to see it next time. Fool me once…