
Journal Journal: The telemarketer
[Setting: The inglenuik off the kitchen. My teenage son, my son's friend, and I are eating a quiet dinner. The phone rings. I answer it.]
Me: Hello....
Telemarketer: Hi! My name is Jason. I'm from AT&T Wireless, and...
Me: AT&T. That's an American company if Ah'm no mistaken. Dae ye no realise you've called Scotland?
Telemarketer: Um... ah... But we're only dialing American numbers.
Me: Ah'm sittin' in ma wee hoose in a Hielan clachan. Ar' ye sellin' yer phones in th' Hielans th' noo?
Telemarketer: But...
Me: Haud yer wheesht! Dae ya think Ah dinnae ken whar ma hoose is, ya wee nyaff. Ye got yer numbers in a pure fankle. Mind an gies a break. Sort it oot an' dinnae call agin!
[The kids are doubled over with laughter, hands over their mouths to stifle the yowls.]
I ring off, and return to my dinner, gazing serenely out the window, enjoying the beauty of the sun sparkling over the water of Long Island Sound.