Sell Your Soul For A Check From Mci
It’s been less than eight months since I’ve moved out on my own. Within that time, I’ve accepted money, misleading advances and guarantees of 24-hour assistance for my services rendered. I’ve always been faithful to my commitments and lived by a high moral standard. That is until this exploiting, corrupt underworld lulled me into abandoning my principles and selling myself. With their eloquent sales pitches and countless money offers, I believe anyone out there is fair game. Some of you might already be holding your head down in shame, realizing they have wooed you to their dark side already. I speak of the dreaded long-distance phone companies. Here’s my story, in hopes of helping just one person avoid the same pitfall.
When I first moved into my humble home, the independence and freedom was overwhelming. I expressed myself rather mildly at first. Leaving the door to the bathroom open and ordering pizza at 2 a.m. were the extent of my new found liberty. Nothing prepared me for the seemingly normal decision when I hooked up my phone. “Which long-distance company would you like, sir?” The choices were mind-numbing. I asked for help but it was against their policy. I flippantly chose AT&T thinking that was the end of it. My naivete would prove my demise.
Less than a month later I received a call one Monday night. It was one of the sexiest, come-hither phone voices I had ever heard. (And I’m no stranger to 900 numbers.) She proceeded to seduce me into believing that MCI was the right long-distance company for me. Our conversation lasted over a half an hour. Most of it consisted of this sultry vixen telling me that she’s single and is looking for a good, decent man. “She’s talking about me!” I thought. Next thing you know I’m with MCI and have the name of one amazing operator.
A month or two later I receive a letter from AT&T. In short it said, “Come back to us. We’ll treat you right.” That was followed by all sorts of numbers and scenarios of long-distance calls that Einstein would have had trouble deciphering. They promised me savings. If it was just the letter, I could have thrown it all out. They also sent me a $25 check to use as I pleased. Just sign it, cash it and we’ll do the rest. I hesitated at first but the thought of that MCI broad filling me with false hopes swayed me. If she couldn’t commit, neither would I. I signed the check and felt vindicated.
The next few months I felt cheap for selling myself to a sexy voice then a lousy check. I received more phone calls from MCI but the foreign male voices weren’t the same. An AT&T representative even called and tried to get me to switch? “You already bought my soul!” I screamed. Where do they hire these people? Everything seemed to calm down after a few weeks and I was starting to feel my morals take root again. That is until I received a large thick packet from MCI in the mail. My conscience told me to throw it away but the temptation was too great. Besides the “Tell us your needs, we’ll accommodate you” spiel and promises of a better saving plan, they included a $15 check. I couldn’t help myself. I sold out once again. I knew I needed help.
I’m currently attending a self-help group for recovering long-distance prostitutes. I’m proud to say I’ve remained faithful to one longdistance company for over four months now. Sure, the phone companies still bombard me with calls and letters. But we have a saying in our group, “One call at a time.”
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