The other day I got a robocall from a Texas law enforcement outfit. I missed the name because while the robot was talking I put him, I mean it, on hold to dial in my own robot in a merged call.
I subscribe to Jolly Roger Telephone Service, which lets me pick robots to talk to illegal phone marketers. But this was the first time I was attempting a robot-to-robot conversation.
"Hello," my robot voice began.
CopBot was in the middle of his pitch: "And remember these men and women put their lives on the line to make our communities safer every day."
"What can I do for you?" mine asked.
CopBot answered: "The levels of support are $35, $50 and $75. What can I put you down for?"
Mine answered, "I wonder if you could get to the point. Is this a real person? I've got things that I've got to do, too. I'm interested in what you're saying, but I don't have all day."
Which is funny when you think about it. What kind of things? But no matter. CopBot lowered his price. "It sounds like you'd like to help at a $25 or $20. Which is best for you?"
CopBot hung up. I win.
Advice from a liar
It's a stupid game, but The Watchdog can't help it. Actual criminals are calling us every day on our private Do-Not-Call cellphones, trying to extract money from us.
The government is powerless to stop them. The bad guys' technological advances are too great. Think James Bond and Dr. No.
Only there's no James Bond in the picture.
Lately, I've been answering and saying, "Sorry, I moved to Alaska, which is where I am now. Do you do roofs in Alaska?"
Then one of the criminals said, "Oh yeah, what time is it there?"
I stumbled.
The crook laughed and said, "If you're going to lie to me, you need to know stuff like that."
Good advice from a professional liar.
