pearost about my dad
my dad is your typical bluff self-made yorkshireman. he has been the customer from hell on many occasions for unsuspecting people, but two stick out in my mind.

the first one was from a cold calling monkey, trying to flog him a better deal on his mortgage.

"but i don't have a mortgage," my father said heavily. much page flipping of the script ensued, before the poor monkey blithered,

"well aren't you lucky?" wrong thing to say.

"lucky?" LUCKY?" my dad replied. "i worked my arse off for 40 years to pay the whole thing off and you call that lucky?" [insert rant here]

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then, a few weeks after my mother died, i received a phone call from bupa wanting to speak to her. instead of saying what i felt like, which was 'she's just died horribly unexpectedly so thank you for jamming that fact home and making me say it out loud which i still can't bring myself to do', i took the view it wasn't the salesgirl's fault, so just asked them to call back in a few months time.

which is why my father subsequently got a telephone call from a terribly posh middle-aged sounding lady from bupa. she told him he had agreed to help with the survey some months ago. naturally he denied it. she replied:

"now come on mr swipe, you said you'd help. are you currently suffering from any aches and pains?"

"only those caused by this conversation," grunted my dad, and hung up on her.

two minutes later, the phone rang again. he answered it.

"mr swipe," intoned the very posh voice. "were you born with your head up your arse or did it get that way in later life?"

hahaha, first time he's been speechless in about 60 years!
( rachelswipe with a fork, Fri 5 Sep 2008, 11:55, Reply)