Answering The Call Of Consumerism

The Sunday Age

Sunday August 16, 1998

ANDREW DYSON

AT least 100,000 Australians, many of them decent human beings, now work in telephone customer service and telemarketing. This is tough luck for them, but good news for the unemployed, the homebound and those reduced to penury by parenthood. Psychoanalysis is so expensive these days.

``Is that Mr Dyson?" ``Who"s asking?" ``Lola from EST Marketing. Could you spare five minutes to answer some questions?" ``Why not, Lola? Why not, indeed? Plague stalks the land, our leaders are jackals, rats multiply in the sewers beneath our feet, ugliness is all around us. Five minutes, five millennia, what does it matter, we"re all doomed." ``Erm, Mr Dyson, what is your favorite snack food?" ``Definitely the greasy tubular barbecue-flavored one which leaves an oily residue in your windpipe. For some reason, I forever associate it with the golden beaches of a happy youth. Like Proust"s Madeleine ... " ``Thank you, Mr Dyson, that"s all we need for now." ``No Lola, there"s more, much more! Oh merciful God, please don"t hang up!!!!"

Yes, I welcome unsolicited phone calls and heartily commend the useful public service they provide. How I admire the expertise and the exquisite timing of the mental health professionals who provide them. How many times I have sat in the bath, bored to tears, contemplating suicide, only to be rescued by a friendly telephone ringing in the kitchen. How many times have I been delivered from a hot Sunday roast dinner, that grisly Bosch tableau of suffering and Hellfire? Indeed, the modern unsolicited call has largely replaced those wandering religious personnel, especially the Mormons, who used to give us comfort in times of need. We never see them much nowadays. This may have something to do with the goat"s head we have attached to the front door, but I sense a deeper malaise. For despite their best intentions, their personal appearance was always unsatisfactory. They always looked like the type of people who eat curried-egg sandwiches, not a crime in itself, but it did make communication difficult. If only they"d used the phone ... By contrast, in my mind"s eye, Lola from EST Marketing is a winning combination of matriarch and sex kitten, her voice honey-smooth, her manner accepting. The Mormons just can"t compete. The only problem is, I fear I am not entitled to enjoy Lola"s services. I am an imposter. I have no right to be on the consumer database for I am not a Consumer, preferring to avoid consumer goods and invest my capital in the racing industry instead. Not, I hasten to add, that I have anything against Consumerism. Religious prejudice is not a problem of mine. Without wishing to sound patronising, I can claim that I get on quite well with Consumers and freely admit that despite their outlandish creed, many Consumers lead perfectly normal and useful suburban lives (the fundamentalists are a bit iffy). I wouldn"t let my daughter marry one, mind, but I am quite prepared to give them the time of day. In fact, before the kids came I dabbled in Consumerism myself. To atone for my fraudulent use of consumer services, I have decided to give something in return. Thanks to a clever device provided by my privatised and vigorous telephone company, my phone now displays the numbers of people who have just rung me. Like myself, these people need comfort and understanding, and though I"m not professionally trained, I have so much to give. ``Is that Lola? I got you out of the bath? Sorry. Could you spare me five minutes? On second thought, make it 10."