I recently – against my better judgement – re-opened an account with Vonage so I could have a business-only line. Now that I’m working from home, my cell-phone-as-my-only-phone lifestyle is no longer feasible. Minutes are gobbled up in countless teleconferences, etc. With the (not) new number came the previous owner’s problems and fan base. One such fan is the American Red Cross. Apparently the previous owner registered as a much-desired type O blood donor.
Yesterday I received a robo-dialer call from American Red Cross. Their robot expressed a craving for my tasty, tasty type O blood – a case of mistaken identity. It gave me several menu options but none of them were “leave me the hell alone.” I sighed heavily and gave up for the evening. This morning Matt mentioned a news article talking about a district judge who okays civil suits against robo-dialing. “Oh yeah!” I yelled, flashing from relaxing morning coffee mode to angry afternoon mode in an instant, then I ran to my computer to begin my crusade anew.
You see, being a non-profit organization, American Red Cross doesn’t have to obey the Do Not Call list. Fuckers. My only hope, the Internet claimed, was to contact them a million different ways and keep trying to be removed. Apparently that’s the hard part. Not only is it difficult to find any way to talk to a person who can actually help with this, but they really seem to be disinclined to give a shit.
Unless, of course, you inform them you have “undesirable blood.”
Random strangers in forums as well as people I know told me the quickest way to ensure the Red Cross wouldn’t touch your blood with a ten-foot blood-extraction device is to tell them you have some sort of disease or are a “man who has sex with men” (apparently “gay” isn’t politically correct in this particular context). Armed with this information, I sent them a letter, which I present below for your enjoyment.
To Whom it May Concern:
I’m writing to ask you to remove my (newly-acquired) telephone number from your robo-dialer. The number is XXX-XXX-XXXX.
Trouble is, I don’t have the blood type your robot stated it so desperately craves. If I did, you wouldn’t want it anyway, as it’s riddled with disease from my crack-addled, homosexual, alcoholic, prostitute boy-toy with whom I share needles and dirty, dirty bareback butt-sex in public truck stops.
Also, while I love pricks – can’t get enough of the devilish things, in fact – I’m outright terrified of needles. Well, needles without illegal drugs in them, at any rate.
On the other hand, if you have a handsome, boyish vampire (the modern, caring kind they show on TV these days), I might reconsider. I wouldn’t mind that particular form of blood extraction and, like a wistful teenage girl, I’m CERTAIN I can change him …
This isn’t to suggest I dislike the American Red Cross. My most recent donation was intended for the Japan relief fund. I just don’t like people (or bloodthirsty robots) calling me at random, asking for my body fluids.