10 JUN 05: THE MIDNIGHT SPECIAL

The phone rang at 11:45 Wednesday night, as I prepared to start on Thursday's blog entry. Who could possibly call me at that hour? My family with disastrous news? My former dream date in San Francisco, telling me she's getting a divorce and all is forgiven?

But no, the caller was nothing like that. It was a man named Shanin who was selling something. He doesn't like being called a "telemarketer" - but when his thick accent disguises what he wants to be called, that title will have to do.

So why would a telemarketer call me at 11:45 p.m.? The answer requires me to go back almost two weeks. Shanin first called me a week ago Sunday, as I prepared for work. In fact, I was naked and about to turn on the water for a shower. There's a reason why my computer lacks a webcam....

Shanin was calling to offer me Earthlink Internet service. In fact, he was the second telemarketer to call me on a Sunday afternoon as I hurried to prepare for work -- as if some co-worker is telling them to call, so I show up late and get fired.

Shanin rambled on and on about how Earthlink service would come with so many special features -- only because of his thick (I think Scandinavian) accent, it was hard to understand some of them. For instance, it sounded like I'd get a walrus blocker....

Eventually Shanin paused to ask if I was listening, and I explained I needed to be at work in about 30 minutes. "Every minute you go on, the clock's ticking," I said. Not to mention the risk of someone knocking on my door, and finding me naked.

I suggested Shanin call back the next day with his Earthlink offer. "I can't do that. Tomorrow's a holiday...." namely Memorial Day.

"So? You're calling me on a Sunday, and many people consider that an off day." Not to mention a holiday weekend, when single guys like me were focusing more on Danica Patrick in the Indianapolis 500.

It reached the point where Shanin offered to call back in a few minutes, after I showered and brushed my teeth. To his credit, he called back 15 minutes later - and I put him on my speaker phone as I put on work clothes. But Shanin couldn't hear me, even though I was now comfortable with him seeing me.

Shanin did what so many telemarketers do nowadays -- repeatedly mention features of a program, but never ask directly if I want it. Even smooth-talking politicians realize you have to ask for people's votes....

The clock ticked ever closer to my scheduled work time, and finally Shanin asked if I had any questions about his Earthlink offer.

"I have questions, but I'm out of time, so I'll have to say no." If it took him ten minutes or more to describe a service, who knows how long it would take to sign up for it.

"I have to be at work in ten minutes," I told Shanin.

"Can I call you some other time?" he insisted. That's when I explained my current hours are 1:45 to 11:00 p.m. He could call during the morning, or late at night. But Shanin said he's not supposed to call late at night. Maybe if he sold online personal ads....

At six minutes before work time, we finally seemed to agree that Shanin would call me back between 10:00 a.m. and 12:00 noon on the day after Memorial Day. So I sat by the phone Tuesday, May 31 waiting for the call - and it never came. Now I think I know how Jennifer Aniston's felt lately.

But lo and behold, Shanin called back this past Wednesday night at 11:45. "I've been trying to reach you," he said. So why were the only messages on my answering machines from taped telemarketers, offering funeral plans?

"You work very long hours," Shanin said.

"Well, I told you I'm working from 1:45 to 11:00 Sunday through Thursdays...."

"Even Sundays?" Yes, like the first time you called me. Maybe that's why he doesn't call late at night - his brain cells die by ten.

"I'll only be two minutes," Shanin assured me.

"OK, two minutes. Go." Shanin needed this repeated - even though he sounded like he came from a part of the world where people use chess clocks often.

"You said you had questions about Earthlink...." Shanin recalled.

"Yes. After the first three months, how much?" Attractive early rates are a bit like buying a used car with a 30-day warranty.

"It's $6.95 for the first six months, then $21.95 a month after that...." My Internet provider beats that by two dollars - but then, it doesn't promise what sounded from this man like a sperm blocker.

Shanin again repeated the wonderful extras Earthlink would give me - then asked me for my main e-mail address. He was going to change that account, so all the e-mail would go to an Earthlink address. Why doesn't he just throw me in the back of the moving truck, while he's at it?

I objected to any e-mail address change -- but when he asked again, I spelled out the address. I had to go very slowly for him, somewhere between Teletubbies and Barney speed.

The CD to install Earthlink would reach me in three to seven days, Shanin promised. But I pointed out in all of this, he'd never asked The Question. "What? You want me to ask you questions?" No, I was in no mood to have a quiz show at this point.

"The Question," I finally spelled out to Shanin. "Whether I want it or not." His side of the line became quiet for several seconds, as if I disclosed to him every love affair he'd ever had.

"Isn't it only courteous to ask if someone wants what you're offering?" I asked him quietly. One of my nieces has a husband who sells cars for a living - but he doesn't pull cars into my driveway for on-the-spot test drives.

With stunned reluctance Shanin asked me if I want Earthlink service - and I said no. My I.S.P. was less expensive. "But you're getting all these other things, like call waiting...." Call waiting? When I'm online with dial-up now, all incoming calls have to wait.

I also explained I didn't want to go through the hassle of installing Earthlink on my computer, then uninstalling it and restoring the old I.S.P. six months later after the discount rate ran out. Those things take time -- and when I don't have time to take a dinner break at work, I don't have time to wrestle with that.

(There was also the night in the LaughLine era when my I.S.P. refused to call up the web. In frustration, I installed one of those America Online 30-day trial discs - and it hijacked my computer. Any time I tried to call up a web page stored on my hard drive, it attempted to dial a phone number. It was more controlling than a filibustering Democrat.)

"What are you worried about?" Shanin said. "Please -- I thought you were my friend." Oh yeah, friends call you at a quarter to midnight selling Internet service....

With cost presented as the main problem, Shanin threw a real curve ball. "What if I offered you a similar service from Earthlink for seven dollars?"

"Well, I'd consider it...." But then the skeptical customer in me kicked in again. "What's different about it?"

"Nothing, really." So why didn't he offer that in the first place? Have I.S.P.'s become as desperate as G.M.?

"When you say 'similar'," I explained, "from most telemarketers than means it's the same in some ways, but different in others." That's when Shanin objected to being called a telemarketer. Republicans might refer to him instead as an "activist salesman."

It was 12:06 a.m., 20 minutes after the two-minute clock started, when Shanin finally said: "I'm getting paid either way.... It's up to you in the end if you want this service." I told him I'd pass for now, and he said goodbye. At his pace, he might meet 20 more customers on his shift - hopefully people who can understand his accent better.

Shanin and I wound up dancing for a combined 40 minutes or so over a 12-day span about Internet service. He made it sound like Earthlink would make things so easy. So why do they hire telemarketers who make the process so difficult?

E-MAIL UPDATE: Right after we posted Thursday's entry, we found a second message from the Tidwell house -- and this one was not computer-generated:

Thank you for the question, my full name is Miriam Eve Tidwell and in Oct 2004 I sold my restaurant to a local chef Faye Simmons, she had the option of buying the business alone or with the name, Faye chose to buy the name as well. I went back to work with my husband Dr Jack Tidwell and I soon found I could not separate my self from the restaurant business so as my 50th birthday was approaching and I was thinking of launching a new business I decided that I really wanted to drop my first name and use my middle name and so on the 12th of march 2005, on my 50th birthday, I became Eve Tidwell. And my new business is called Eve's New Attitude: a women's prosthetics shop, the shop will carry wigs, compression devices and forms for the women who have undergone some type of breast surgery, all proceeds will fund a program called Terrific Kids. This program will start in Sept 2005 in all Muscogee 3rd grade classes, and will help children make non destructive choices regarding tobacco products, So rather than remember me as Miriam of Miriam's Café, I would rather be known as Eve Tidwell, Dr Jack Tidwell's Wife, They own the Tidwell Cancer Treatment Center. Thank you again for wanting the record straight PS this is really hard for Dr Tidwell to remember as well he says mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm om Eve, almost every day.

Thanks for the full explanation, Mmmmms. Tidwell. We hope your husband considers the new first name Mm-mm-good.

Apparently it was the name change that allowed Ms. Tidwell to "separate myself from the restaurant business." It's too bad her café didn't have a chopping knife large enough to do that....

Eve's New Attitude sounds like it should be an interesting business. But based on how she described it, you really can't say this prosthetic shop will have a "leg up" on the competition - because she's not selling legs.

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