Tele Linguae

Aren't those telemarketers wonderful? They sure know how to push the humor button and get you laughing.

Take this one company who calls me regularly. You know it's them when you lift the receiver and hear a strongly accented voice ask: "Is Patrick Sullivan there?"

These people have called once a week, every week, for six months. Each time they call I've explained that Pat died thirty-seven years ago. You'd think, by now, they'd have a clear understanding that Patrick Sullivan will never be here. But they keep calling for him anyways.

They have an accent so thick that a karate chop couldn't slice through it. Foreigners all sound alike, but I think these people are from India. Who knows? They could be from Outer Galactia just as easily. Wherever they're from, they sure are persistent. They keep calling.

So today they call. "Is Patrick Sullivan there?"

Before I can stop myself, I have replied in my normal soprano, motherly voice: "This is Patrick Sullivan. Patrick Shawn Bailey Cameron Tyrone Sullivan."

There was a pause before the man from India replied: "No. We wish to talk to Patrick."

"Well today's your lucky day and your wish has been granted. You are speaking with Patrick. What do you want to say?"

Now folks, I would dearly love to report whatever it was he said. However, he spoke so fast that I had to chase his words down the street just to try and get ahold of one. Even so, I couldn't make sense of it no matter which way I turned it round, upside-down, inside-out or on its ear. It's not as if they don't know I can't understand their accent when they speak in horse-galloping fashion for I've mentioned it during each of their previous calls.

So. In total frustration, I replied: "Shjr-r-r-r xup-a-a-pr-e-e A-a-h?"

What happened next totally buffaloed me for his words were as easy to understand as if they had been spoken by someone hailing from Kansas. "What? I didn't understand you!"

The temptation was too great to resist. Oh, not the urge to say: "Well, I don't understand you either."

But the other urge. The adrenaline-high urge when you've got the bull by the horns and you're running with the best of 'em. "Ah s-a-a-n-g-a. Shjr-r-r-r xup-a-a-pr-e-e A-a-h?"

More than likely, the bizarre turn of events which followed shouldn't have amused me as much as it did. But after months of playing this tele-game, it tickled the cockles of my heart when this man, with the strong accent of India, replied with great disdain: " I don't speak Mexican."

And, by golly, he hung up!

Now foreigners trying to speak English all sound alike to me. They sound . . . incomprehensible.

But surely, in India, these fellows have a keener ear. Shouldn't he have recognized ChineO-R-E-N-tal-Japanese?
Tele Linguae © 2006 Chaeli Lee Sullivan