Cold Calling

Two or three phone calls per week. Every week for six months. All more or less the same.

“Hello Mrs Redmond, this is Martin/Tim/Alice/Marmaduke [I’m serious], I’m calling from your internet provider to let you know that your broadband server has been hacked and unfortunately, all of your emails and social media accounts are seriously compromised.”

First of all, I am Miss Redmond. If there was a Mr Redmond in the house, I wouldn’t bother answering the phone. It’s only Cathy who rings occasionally from Canada and those are the phone calls I enjoy most because I get to hear about my grandchildren and their ice hockey achievements.

Margaret from the Bridge Club calls regularly enough with “startling news” such as Andrew Hamilton is getting false teeth, or Mary Grady’s hair is a wig. I entertain this news because I haven’t got a lot of other people to talk to. I tell her about the two-for-one deals