estirose

And the political call season has begun, I see. *sigh*

I hate calls from political volunteers. I actually prefer the prerecorded messages – it may have to do with my personality, but I don’t like cold calls from live people. I can do my own research on my own candidates, thank you, I skiptrace for a living and I want to be a reference librarian when I grow up. (The one political “call” I didn’t mind was from a candidate for local council doing door-to-door campaigning, and he was basically “I’m running for city council, here’s my website, here’s my phone #, give me a call with your concerns” with a followup, handwritten postcard later. I didn’t mind him because he didn’t try to persuade me to vote for him, he let me look it up on my own time, I liked him and voted for him.)

For that matter, if you ask for my mother, who uses my home address but lives outside the local area, I know you’re calling off a damn list. Especially if you mispronounce it, which is rather easy to do. (My mother’s friends from the area either call her or email her. If for some reason they don’t have either, they know enough to say, “hey, *my name*, this is *so and so*, I know your mom, *mom’s name*, from *such and such*, could you give her a message?”)

I think I’m going to have to just ask my mom and aunt to let me call them and turn off the ringer for the next three months. Aggh.

Crossposted from Ramblings Yet Once More here.