The most amazing days always seem to start off rather uneventfully. Today was no exception. By 9am I had already mapped out the course of events I expected to unfold and the tasks needing completion, and without any hiccups I expected to be snug in front of my fireplace by 6pm.
I had no sooner tucked into a breakfast of champions when my mobile rang, and Patience from some or other call-centre tried valiantly to sell me a funeral policy. I never slam the phone down on these bottom-feeders as I understand they're merely doing a job and trying to earn an honest days pay. I do however tend to humour them and pass the time in nonsensical banter, never failing to exasperate them in my endeavour to see who puts the phone down first in annoyance. I'm undefeated in this challenge, might I add.
So there we were, Patience who lived up to her name, and I with a mouthful of toast and a fully charged battery. The stage was set, and an epic battle was about to be played out.
Her first attempt was a feeble one at best. I think she knew this before she even completed her opening sentence. She informed me that I had been specially chosen to recieve a promotional once-in-a-lifetime offer of a discounted funeral policy, which benefit I undoubtably would be grateful for upon my death.
I informed her that I was a devout member of the Everlasting Church of Skywalker.
She took the bait like a new fish in an old pond, and asked me what in heavens name that meant.
I asked her if she had 5 minutes to spare, since she expected no less from me. A brief silence, a feeble sigh, and she said yes.
So the Everlasting Church of Skywalker is based on the principles of Darth, our Vader, who art from another galaxy. The belief has been passed down through eons by neurons and followed devoutly by morons.
The crux of the belief system is that we never die; we simply morph into fees.
Hence, funeral policies for our members would be like insuring Kenny Rogers against turning black. The opposite cannot be held unfathomable since Michael Jackson tested the Black-to-White theory and proved it possible, even though he made millions singing that it didnt matter.
At this point, Patience must have realised that she was out of her depth, and her training manual didnt cover the eventuality of speaking to Fareed Kaloo.
She asked politely if she could call me back, and I said im cleaning the mothership until after lunch. Its past dinner time and I haven't heard from her yet.
Ah well, theres always tomorrow to look forward to.