Post by Deleted on May 1, 2017 13:18:50 GMT
I'm a sucker for telemarketers...thank goodness.
For some reason, my sales resistance is very low. Usually I only end up
with a magazine subscription I don't need, or switching long distance companies
when I don't really want to. It seems I can only say no to big ticket things,
like new siding for my house (especially since I live in an apartment).
So it was with a bit of trepidation that I answered the phone one night
recently and one of the sexiest women's voices I've ever heard greeted me with,
"Good evening sir, how are you tonight?"
"Fine," I said with a small sigh and braced myself for the sales pitch.
She wanted to offer me a six-month free trial with a new cable TV service. They
would hook me up at no cost, give me a full package including all premium
channels, several pay-per-view events each month, "and special added features,"
and if I wasn't pleased, at the end of six months they would pay to reconnect me
to my old service.
"Gee," I told her, "It sounds too good to be true. What's the catch?"
"There's no catch, sir," she told me. "We just want happy customers." We
made an appointment for installation; she said the installer would arrive
promptly at 12:30 p.m., as I requested. "Yeah, sure," I thought to myself. "I'll
probably have to take the afternoon off... be lucky if he shows by 4 o'clock."
So imagine my surprise when I looked up at 12:28 p.m. and saw a white van
pulling into the visitor space outside my apartment. It said in large block
letters on the side, TGTV. Hmmm... I wondered. I wondered some more when I saw a
beautiful woman step out. She was close to six feet tall, had golden blonde hair
that fell about halfway down her back, a model's face and figure.
She was wearing coveralls and a baseball cap, each with the TGTV logo on
them. She had a bright smile as she came to my front door. "Hi, I'm Cheryl,
welcome to TGTV." Her outfit was spotless, and she carried a shiny toolbox.
Before I knew it, she had my old cable box disconnected and a new one in its
place. It seemed sleeker, newer, shinier... just somehow more... high tech.
That was certainly the case with the remote she handed me. It had at least
twice as many buttons as any similar unit I'd ever seen.
"Wow," I said. "How am I ever going to work this thing? Do you have an
instruction book?"
"Sure," she said, still smiling widely. But then she reached into a pocket
of her coveralls, and came up with nothing. She fished around in the other
pockets, and still was unable to find anything. The smile suddenly disappeared,
replaced by a look of embarrassment.
"I am so sorry, sir," she said. "It seems like I've come unprepared. I'll
get a manual to you just as soon as I can... in the meantime, why don't you just
play around with it a bit." The smile was back. "I'm sure you're going to enjoy
what you discover."
She gave a friendly wave as she climbed back into the van.
I shut the door, scratched my head, and tried to figure out the remote.
Well, all the basic buttons were there. I could see how to turn the set off and
on and change channels. But what were all these others? I decided to take her
advice.
I turned the set on and began channel surfing. Soon, I found a rerun of
one of my all-time favorite series, "The Dick Van Dyke Show." Ah, young Mary
Tyler Moore! How often had I fantasized about being her... being Laura Petrie.
So lovely, so sweet, so sexy...
Suddenly, I spotted a button that was labeled ENT/RPLC. Enter? Replace?
With a full-face shot of Laura on the screen, I pressed the button...
...and suddenly found myself inside the body of Laura Petrie! Yes!! It had
worked!!! It had worked!!! How glorious! I felt sleek and light and sexy and a
thousand other wonderful things... I ran to the first mirror I could find...and
soon saw that sweet smile looking back at me, those big brown eyes, that
wonderfully stiff bouffant hairdo...
...and one curvaceous, lovely body! Mary was only in her mid-20s when she
did the show; she had been a dancer just a few years earlier, and it showed!
Hmm... I had a little problem to deal with in my head though. I had always been
one of those fantasy girls who swore to herself that I would never, ever, EVER
wear slacks if and when I changed; I had resolved to live in dresses and skirts.
But Laura was wearing an angora sweater... and the Capri pants she had
helped make so popular in this era. As I continued to examine myself in the
full-length mirror, I saw the way they hugged the new curves of my hips and
butt; and how they seemed to be almost *pasted* to my legs... well, I know I had
never felt so wonderfully feminine!
I didn't see any signs of television cameras, or studios, so I assumed
that much like the movie "Pleasantville," I was in a world that existed on its
own. I thought about Laura's life... how it would just about match all my
ideals! She had Rob, a kind, loving, funny, caring husband. She spent her days
the way I dreamed of spending mine... as a suburban housewife in the post World
War II era.
No job, no need for one, no social expectations that I get one! Days
revolving around my husband, my home, my community, my son... Oh yes, Richie...
probably my least favorite feature of the show. Well, he was a good child at
heart... just kind of loud, whiny, annoying... In other words, he was all boy.
At that moment, I heard the front door swing open. "Laura, honey, I'm
home!"
Rob's voice immediately caused my heart to fill with a warm feeling. I
knew I needed to do something for him, but what? I heard a loud "thump" and
raced out in the living room in time to discover he had tripped over the
ottoman--for the thousandth time!
"Oh, Rob, are you okay?" I said, reaching to help him up. "Why won't you
let me get rid of this thing?"
"Because I like it," Rob said, brushing himself off. Then he kissed me,
and I felt a wonderful warm tingle from the top of my head to the tips of my
toes. "And I love you." Then he kissed me again. "What's for dinner, honey?"
"Pot roast," I said, heading for the kitchen to check the oven. Suddenly,
I spotted the remote that had brought me here. I picked it up and saw another
button: CHAR/CHG. Character Change?? Hmm... I thought about brash, boyish
Ritchie... and how life as Laura Petrie would just about be perfect with a
daughter instead of a son.
I snuck into the bedroom with the control.
About 10 minutes later, I called out, "Dinner's ready!"
Soon, Rob came in; he had hung up his jacket, and was wearing a cardigan.
"Where's Rachel?" he asked.
I smiled broadly. "Oh, I think she'll be right here." Sure enough, in came
a lovely young girl about Richie's age, wearing a floral print dress with a lace
collar; she had a large bow in her hair. "Sorry I'm late, Mommy," she said
sweetly. "I was putting my dolls away."
I hugged her tightly. "That's okay, honey. I'm glad you're such a neat and
responsible little girl."
We sat down together for our supper. I led the prayer of thanks that
night.
Yes, it looked like life as Laura Petrie would be just wonderful... but if
I ever got tired of it, I could always count on the remote to carry me into
another program and another dream.
For some reason, my sales resistance is very low. Usually I only end up
with a magazine subscription I don't need, or switching long distance companies
when I don't really want to. It seems I can only say no to big ticket things,
like new siding for my house (especially since I live in an apartment).
So it was with a bit of trepidation that I answered the phone one night
recently and one of the sexiest women's voices I've ever heard greeted me with,
"Good evening sir, how are you tonight?"
"Fine," I said with a small sigh and braced myself for the sales pitch.
She wanted to offer me a six-month free trial with a new cable TV service. They
would hook me up at no cost, give me a full package including all premium
channels, several pay-per-view events each month, "and special added features,"
and if I wasn't pleased, at the end of six months they would pay to reconnect me
to my old service.
"Gee," I told her, "It sounds too good to be true. What's the catch?"
"There's no catch, sir," she told me. "We just want happy customers." We
made an appointment for installation; she said the installer would arrive
promptly at 12:30 p.m., as I requested. "Yeah, sure," I thought to myself. "I'll
probably have to take the afternoon off... be lucky if he shows by 4 o'clock."
So imagine my surprise when I looked up at 12:28 p.m. and saw a white van
pulling into the visitor space outside my apartment. It said in large block
letters on the side, TGTV. Hmmm... I wondered. I wondered some more when I saw a
beautiful woman step out. She was close to six feet tall, had golden blonde hair
that fell about halfway down her back, a model's face and figure.
She was wearing coveralls and a baseball cap, each with the TGTV logo on
them. She had a bright smile as she came to my front door. "Hi, I'm Cheryl,
welcome to TGTV." Her outfit was spotless, and she carried a shiny toolbox.
Before I knew it, she had my old cable box disconnected and a new one in its
place. It seemed sleeker, newer, shinier... just somehow more... high tech.
That was certainly the case with the remote she handed me. It had at least
twice as many buttons as any similar unit I'd ever seen.
"Wow," I said. "How am I ever going to work this thing? Do you have an
instruction book?"
"Sure," she said, still smiling widely. But then she reached into a pocket
of her coveralls, and came up with nothing. She fished around in the other
pockets, and still was unable to find anything. The smile suddenly disappeared,
replaced by a look of embarrassment.
"I am so sorry, sir," she said. "It seems like I've come unprepared. I'll
get a manual to you just as soon as I can... in the meantime, why don't you just
play around with it a bit." The smile was back. "I'm sure you're going to enjoy
what you discover."
She gave a friendly wave as she climbed back into the van.
I shut the door, scratched my head, and tried to figure out the remote.
Well, all the basic buttons were there. I could see how to turn the set off and
on and change channels. But what were all these others? I decided to take her
advice.
I turned the set on and began channel surfing. Soon, I found a rerun of
one of my all-time favorite series, "The Dick Van Dyke Show." Ah, young Mary
Tyler Moore! How often had I fantasized about being her... being Laura Petrie.
So lovely, so sweet, so sexy...
Suddenly, I spotted a button that was labeled ENT/RPLC. Enter? Replace?
With a full-face shot of Laura on the screen, I pressed the button...
...and suddenly found myself inside the body of Laura Petrie! Yes!! It had
worked!!! It had worked!!! How glorious! I felt sleek and light and sexy and a
thousand other wonderful things... I ran to the first mirror I could find...and
soon saw that sweet smile looking back at me, those big brown eyes, that
wonderfully stiff bouffant hairdo...
...and one curvaceous, lovely body! Mary was only in her mid-20s when she
did the show; she had been a dancer just a few years earlier, and it showed!
Hmm... I had a little problem to deal with in my head though. I had always been
one of those fantasy girls who swore to herself that I would never, ever, EVER
wear slacks if and when I changed; I had resolved to live in dresses and skirts.
But Laura was wearing an angora sweater... and the Capri pants she had
helped make so popular in this era. As I continued to examine myself in the
full-length mirror, I saw the way they hugged the new curves of my hips and
butt; and how they seemed to be almost *pasted* to my legs... well, I know I had
never felt so wonderfully feminine!
I didn't see any signs of television cameras, or studios, so I assumed
that much like the movie "Pleasantville," I was in a world that existed on its
own. I thought about Laura's life... how it would just about match all my
ideals! She had Rob, a kind, loving, funny, caring husband. She spent her days
the way I dreamed of spending mine... as a suburban housewife in the post World
War II era.
No job, no need for one, no social expectations that I get one! Days
revolving around my husband, my home, my community, my son... Oh yes, Richie...
probably my least favorite feature of the show. Well, he was a good child at
heart... just kind of loud, whiny, annoying... In other words, he was all boy.
At that moment, I heard the front door swing open. "Laura, honey, I'm
home!"
Rob's voice immediately caused my heart to fill with a warm feeling. I
knew I needed to do something for him, but what? I heard a loud "thump" and
raced out in the living room in time to discover he had tripped over the
ottoman--for the thousandth time!
"Oh, Rob, are you okay?" I said, reaching to help him up. "Why won't you
let me get rid of this thing?"
"Because I like it," Rob said, brushing himself off. Then he kissed me,
and I felt a wonderful warm tingle from the top of my head to the tips of my
toes. "And I love you." Then he kissed me again. "What's for dinner, honey?"
"Pot roast," I said, heading for the kitchen to check the oven. Suddenly,
I spotted the remote that had brought me here. I picked it up and saw another
button: CHAR/CHG. Character Change?? Hmm... I thought about brash, boyish
Ritchie... and how life as Laura Petrie would just about be perfect with a
daughter instead of a son.
I snuck into the bedroom with the control.
About 10 minutes later, I called out, "Dinner's ready!"
Soon, Rob came in; he had hung up his jacket, and was wearing a cardigan.
"Where's Rachel?" he asked.
I smiled broadly. "Oh, I think she'll be right here." Sure enough, in came
a lovely young girl about Richie's age, wearing a floral print dress with a lace
collar; she had a large bow in her hair. "Sorry I'm late, Mommy," she said
sweetly. "I was putting my dolls away."
I hugged her tightly. "That's okay, honey. I'm glad you're such a neat and
responsible little girl."
We sat down together for our supper. I led the prayer of thanks that
night.
Yes, it looked like life as Laura Petrie would be just wonderful... but if
I ever got tired of it, I could always count on the remote to carry me into
another program and another dream.