Since I made 240 cold calls last week (I know, I know, no wonder I got strep throat), I have decided to psychoanalyze businesses based on their hold music.
Broken into segments by popularity -
The 80's soft rock/love ballad....Ahhh......It must have been love, but it is definitely over now, you twat. Your business (mostly small CPA and insurance firms):
- Is in a dank, small, but Warsaw ghetto-
esque office 'complex' built between 1960 and 1987.
- Has nasty-arse trim shag or swirled embossed carpeting in a
titillating color ranging from baby poop to vegetable vomit.
- Smells like scary black mold, old people, and the cheap rose-scented soap in the bathroom.
- Is surrounded by a beat-up parking lot in need of a solid paving, in which the threat of rape and subsequent purse snatching looms.
Classical....True, it's a safe option, but really boring....really boring.....Fuzzy Bach, scratchy Beethoven, a mutilated Tchaikovsky.....you catch my drift. Your business is:
- Total corporate dronesville....Probably a big company or one that hopes, dreams, and prays it will be one day, some day.
- Mandated by evil HR and Compliance departments that control your every move, monitor your emails and force you to participate on stupid committees to celebrate events and activities in your corporation's history and co-workers lives that you do NOT want to contribute your last five dollars to and just want to eat the damn sheet cake and go home.
- If I am forced to set up an appointment and visit, I will need to park in the visitor parking, which is about half a football field away, but still closer than where the employees get to park. (Honestly, if you have to be worried about an adequately safe fallout distance should an employee decide to car bomb the sh*t out of the place, shouldn't you be asking yourself what's wrong with the governance of the company?)
8
o's rock......Really
ACDC and KISS may want to rock me all night long, but the people calling your business are now thinking this about your (small manufacturing/waste management outfit), in that:
- You run your company out of a camper-slash-apartment-slash-office-slash-office complex (if you festooned the sucker out of multiple trailers in a sick
choo-
choo train of ghastly design hell).
- The small of cigarettes and body odor will never come out.
- Yellow linoleum runs throughout the compound in a Charlotte Perkins
Gillman-
esque, madness-inducing fashion.
- One, and only one, woman works in your office. Her name is Carla, she wears denim on denim, answers the phone, and has cleavage that looks like a bulldog's cheeks. She's tan (all year long) to match her gorgeous Harley Davidson leathers, paints her
faux nails bright pink, smokes like a chimney, loves gold jewelry, BINGO, and her "girls." Never married, she talks like a sailor, and is loved by everyone for her cheekily
endearing way of calling you, just you, "love."
Talk radio....Of the 2% of people that actually listen to talk radio on their own accord, do you really think they are all going to call your office at once, thus necessitating a talk radio hold to ensure there is no break in the action for them despite the fact that you CAN'T actually even hear it???? Sorry....sorry...got a little emotional with that one. I can tell that your establishment:
- Is probably a non-profit, or small, egocentric outfit on a MISSION!
- Prides itself on being, employing, and surrounding itself with intellectuals...(der....dems is
da smert people)......
- Thought it would be really f*in awesome to put talk radio on as hold music since it is barely audible and all, I have to strain to hear it, turning the volume on my phone all the way up only to finally have my target answer their line, scaring the
livin'
bejeezus out of me.....
No hold music.....my personal favorite.....no hold music means that I can safely assume that you hung up. I am now moving your company to the unavailable list. Booya.......Jackpot!
