Once upon a time, I applied for a job that listed one of the vital components for success was a sense of humour. In my cover letter, accompanying my application form, I explained that I did, indeed, possess the essential ingredient; to wit, a wide and varied, sense of humour. There were many times when my old boss would put his head in his hands, after I had achieved an A in sarcasm, and would say, 'I knew wide and varied should have been a warning!'
My sense of humour is not always appreciated, nor understood, but it does remain, wide and varied. Sarcasm has a habit of turning around and biting me back, as many in my adopted home, believe me to be truthful, and fail to laugh, which probably renders the definition, 'the lowest form of wit', very apt. As I have no doubt mentioned, it is in my DNA and I find that my mouth works rather well without the help of the rest of my body, and before I know it, the sentence is out!
Unfortunately, recently, those that have received the rough edge of my tongue are the telemarketers, as I have said before, but it would appear that my fingers have been taking lessons, and in a moment of delicious wickedness, I have responded to an email that had begun, 'Dear one'.
We were, fortunately, very busy this week; a blessing that is sometimes overlooked as it meant a couple of later than usual departures, and a couple of stressful days. The amount of 'spam' calls have increased tremendously over the past few months. I learned my lesson, many years ago, that if you check the box, or press the '9' key, to remove you from the list, all it does is confirm a good email address (phone number), and whilst I am not sure how it works, the confirmed details are then picked up by every other 'spammer' in the world! The number cruncher must have been on high this week, as I was receiving half a dozen calls a day. Most of the time, if I did not hear anyone on the end of the phone, I pressed the off button. However, all work and no play makes Tracie a very dull girl. Was I still interested in making some extra money was the question asked on Tuesday. No, I had decided to give up everything and live under a tree, was not the right answer, as the 'click' sounded, and the line was silent. My caller on Wednesday got a little more than she bargained for, as she asked me, 'what do you do for your income'. I told her it was not relevant. If she wanted to offer me a chance to make a lot of money, what difference did it make? Presumably she did not have an option on her tick list for 'obnoxious', and she continued to pry. 'Do you want to add to your income, or replace it?' Again, irrelevant, but I was running out of playtime, and needed to get back to work, so I said, 'I don't know'. Obviously not having a box for that option, either, she took it upon herself to answer for me, and said, 'I will put "add".' As she started to ask the next question, I interrupted her flow with an, 'excuse me? You will just do what?' The familiar 'huh' was the response, and I repeated that she was not giving a true representation of our discussion, and whilst on the subject of 'true representation', could she perhaps let me know why, if the programme was so amazing, and so successful, and made millionaires out of so many, who were now retired, why was she still sitting at the end of a phone trying to convince me of its success, instead of practising what she was preaching, and making a fortune for herself. She didn't have a box for that! Click!
Everyone has to work, and not all jobs are desirable. I just hate the deceit. I have given some of these people the benefit of the doubt, and continued to listen, but all calls have ended with either having to attend a meeting, or find a mutually convenient time when a 'manager' can call. The manager then explains how much you have to pay to set up your 'new' company, but never fear, as this amount can be paid in easy monthly instalments. The only difference between the phone calls and the 'personal' meetings, are that telephonic meetings prevent wasting your time driving to a dodgy part of town. Both meetings end with the audience being told, that if you don't do this, you will remain poor forever!
However, I am not here to be serious and warn against the perils of
'get rich quick' schemes. One in a million will succeed to the degree that is advertised. Not everyone will die rich, and of the wealthy deceased, not all will depart with only distant relatives to inherit; and not all those relatives will be found. Amazingly enough, I appear to have several distant relatives who have recently passed on, all living in Nigeria! I am not sure why the apple fell so far from the tree, but the gene that made many members of my family, all of whom I know not, and all of whom live in Africa, did not pass through the northern hemisphere sect. It appears that what was meant to be, will always find a way through, which presumably was helped by the likeness of our names. It doesn't take a genius to see the similarity between Obiwankanobi and McMichael. It must have been the 'AI' that gave it away! At first, I chose to ignore the inevitable, and refused to acknowledge my windfall. It seemed absurd that they would need to have my name, address, date of birth, and bank details. My full name would have had to have been used in the research to determine my eligibility in the original claim; they had managed to contact me through various methods, so my address, surely, would have been on their books; the date of birth must have been established to confirm that I was a surviving relative; my bank details were irrelevant, as if they had all the other information, why could they not just send me a cheque? I started to doubt the fact that my ancestry did, indeed, have roots in the second largest continent.
Obviously, my inheritance was meant to be, and I reiterate, if it was meant to be, a way will be found to make it happen. The attorney whom had been put in charge of my case, was able to overcome all the hurdles, and devised a plan to make sure I received all that was mine, which I might add, was an amount that exceeded all my expectations. All I had to do was to send them a money order for a few hundred dollars. What a great deal! Perhaps my initial doubt had been too hasty. However, I never did get round to sending the order, and consequently, I never received my inheritance.
Amazing at it may seem, there were a number of people, again all of whom I knew not, who wanted to make sure that I received what I deserved, and had joined together to bring the money into an account Stateside. Perhaps now, that the money was in an American bank, I would provided my details. The reason these details were needed, this time, was to authenticate to those that had 'taken a chance' and risked all, for a small amount of compensation, that I was indeed the real thing.
Finally, this week, I received the email, 'Dear one'. We have been communicating for so long, now, albeit one sided, that presumably, the attorney in charge of the money behested by the very wealthy, long lost relative, had gained a great affection for this person, namely me, who has resisted fate for so long. The original amount of several million had been whittled down to a mere $5 mil! He pleaded with me to take this money. All I had to do was give my details. I wrote back, thanking them for persevering, and it was jolly nice of them to have such faith that I would, eventually, respond. This was very encouraging to the attorney, and I received a follow up email, delighted that I had finally relinquished all doubts, and was ready to become very rich. The enthusiasm was followed by reiterating the former request, for me to supply details. Having received such a quick reply, I seized the opportunity to have some fun. The next email, still minus my personal details, was probably one of my finest pieces of literary fiction. I became the patron of a children's charity, one that was local, and not well publicised, which therefore, did not receive as much as it desired, nor indeed deserved. I didn't have use for the money, as my personal needs were very few. (After all, earlier in the week, I had decided to live under a tree!) I was going to give all the money to the children. In fact, we were going to have a celebration with all local dignitaries; the Mayor, the police chief, our local senator and representative, and many, many more. We had not established a date, in the hope that the attorney, or the executors may be able to come and hand over the money. Of course, I did understand that the money would be wired, but perhaps we could have one of those big cheques made out, so that someone could literally hand it to the children. Please could they let me know when would be convenient. I would pay for their flight!
My benefactor's attorney was surprisingly shy. He suggested, strongly, that I do not involve the police in any of this. The Nigerians were a very private nation (?) and did not want a fuss, and, just as a reminder, they still could not give me the money until they had my details. I wrote back, still gushing, that the arrangements had been made, and that the police chief was extremely interested in the charity, and how the money came to be inherited. I guess I received the nearest thing to an email, 'click'.
It is no surprise that my wide and varied sense of humour is not always funny to others. Perhaps it is uncharitable of me not to be concerned as, in this particular case, it gave me some light relief. The week seemed to go on forever, but we did manage to get to the end. Both Kelly and Samantha had left early on Friday, and the Restraining Orders that had been requested by a client (not for stopping my sarcasm; I am not sure that many of them understand me well enough to have enough evidence to tell a judge I need verbally restrained) on Tuesday, were still not ready. It was becoming increasing obvious that they would not be issued before 4pm, by which time, both ladies would have left for the weekend. My short experience of being a millionaire kept me going, and I retrieved the said documents, without sharing my humour, which was probably a relief to the very stressed desk clerk! I do know how to behave...sometimes!
As usual, the weekend has come to an end all too quickly. I had my first swim of the year on Saturday, but wild storms during the night were probably responsible for the vertigo I experienced for most of Sunday. Poetic justice? Probably not, but who knows. I am not ready for another week of madness and mayhem, but I do know that although not a millionaire, I have a wealth of nonsense stored to provide....another story.