I am guilty as sin.

My favorite drink:

Martini, gin, and dirty as sin.  

Well, fuck!

Where to begin?

I was already pretty evil when I realized I was enough of a part of gawd to access some higher functions.  In the sense that your big toe relieves the pain and pressure of encountering solid matter unexpectedly and reflexively through the use of raw signal expression.  

I was evil, in that I had been a telemarketer for over two years at the time.  

Yeah, I just said that I'm goids big toe, in some sense, so are you.

I also said I am a fully trained and field tested telemarketer.

I want to ask though...

When you paid your hard earned money for that phone, did you not realize it has an off switch?

There is so much available hate for telemarketers.  

But, ultimately, you the consumers are paying for a communications service.  You are aware of the customization settings.  Is it not on you the consumer to regulate your own personal firewall?  

The stereotype is that I call during dinner.  I absolutely do.  I'm making the educated guess that you've gotten home from work at that time, and hopefully you've had a chance to relax.  Maybe you can't relax, but you've had a few beers, and deluded yourself that THAT is what you needed.  Thank Big Brother that you got home from work and just collapsed there on the couch right next to your phone, tv, refrigerator, combination bed toilet and storage space.  Oh yeah, and game system entertaining wifi internet full reality simulator.  

Thank BB you're not going to actually go anywhere for a walk, or human contact.  Don't you fucking dare actually look at the outside world!

You fucking sit right there, mere humans, fucking sit right there and don't stop spending money online gambling with auction sites and deceptive packaging poisons.  I will have my people call you about anything you've forgotten what you need, and I've got something else.  

Maybe the Denver Broncos will bring you some weed as a part of their community service.  

The point I'm trying to make is:  how does calling you with an offer make me the bad guy?  Hold a healthy boundary and don't answer if you neither know who is calling nor want to talk to a random fellow life form.  

I'm wondering if all the experiences I have had as recipient of impotent rage are transference.

If I was merely the target of opportunity.

As a former telemarketer, don't look at me I can quit whenever I want, I've definitely been guilty of taking those random calls as opportunities to mess with someone as well.  Absolutely, and having been on both ends of that exchange...

Is there some pain you've been hiding?  

Because I've soaked up a lot, and it never seems to stop.