I received a mailer warning me about an expiring auto warranty, asking me to call quickly to respond. Apparently we have been hanging up on the telemarketer robocalls enough to justify their subsidy to the postal service in an effort to hook us in. At any rate, I had some time to kill, and needed some entertainment amidst the tedium of societal lockdown.
The voice answering the call did not have an Indian accent. It sounded like an ordinary American. Hmm. So I read off the claim number from their postcard and played along for a bit, until I decided to play my trump card.
I did not own the car listed on their card.
My car is much older than the one they listed, in fact. A good 20 years. But to be charitable, I mentioned instead the Mother Thing's mini-van, as it was a mere 16 years too old, but still well out of the warranty period any sensible honest broker would consider.
The filthy bastard still tried a sales pitch. I hung up and laughed as he gleefully transferred me to their sales department.