Telesales and a point of principles

by Gunther Simmermacher · October 4, 2009

Saturday morning, and my cellphone rings. On the other side is an amicable fellow, effusively informing me of the privilege which I have been accorded: out of millions of people, I have been selected to benefit from a limited-time only offer of a brand-new, shiny cellphone contract.

I am flattered, naturally. Just as flattered as I was earlier that week, when a rival company phoned to make a similar offer (I�d get two cellphones, presumably so that I could handle two telemarketing calls at the same time). As it happened, I was in the middle of writing an editorial, so regrettably had to cut the call short.

But now it�s Saturday morning, and my new friend cannot be deceived that I am engaged in complex editorial endeavours. After a hard week�s work, what could be more important on a Saturday morning than fielding cellphone-offer wielding calls?

The deal he is punting seems attractive: if I sign up � limited offer, remember; decide now before it�s too late because nobody might ever phone again with cellphone contract offers � I�d get a whopping R1,700 cash-back plus a free phone (bottom of the range; if I wanted something more fancy, the cash-back would be reduced).

Call me cynical, but I hold the view that sometimes that gift horse�s mouth requires inspection. Whatever the extent of the company�s generosity, they�ll always be up on the deal. Which is fine by me, but don�t tell me that I�ll get money for nothing, as my Saturday morning chum seems to suggest.

Still, one of our contracts is expiring in December, and if a service provider is going to benefit from my patronage, they might as well bribe me with shiny gifts. Or with cash, for that matter. So I invite my interlocutor to elucidate on his deal. And he does, ebulliently emphasising all the key words in the script, and even asking me those condescendingly inane questions. �Now, Mr Simmermacher, wouldn�t you like to have cash paid by us into your very own account?� I do all I can not to squeal with delight and clap my hands.

But, yes, I indeed would love cash in my perilously denuded bank account. Let�s make a deal to commence in December, when our current contract expires. What�s that? It�s not possible? A strictly limited-time offer, you say? Starting as of�November? So I�d have to pay for a new contract and the redundant one which nobody would use for November? Apparently so.

That�s a deal breaker. I tell my new friend that as a matter of principle I will not pay for something that I know will not be used, attractive offer or not.

He is bewildered. How can the prospect of R1,700 cash in my account not trump this � what you call it? � �principle� thing?

In a bid to introduce some logic (and an additional objection) into the conversation, I point out that if I was to pay the monthly R135 fee for the redundant contract, his offer would be worth not R1,700, but only R1,565. On a philosophical note, I say with a tone of abrupt finality, principles are in short supply in South Africa today, so I may as well stick by mine.

This confuses my friend, because he evidently cannot comprehend the doctrine of principles, and it makes him cross (he actually raises his voice at me) because something that has no material value stands in the way of him closing a sale. If I told him that principle is a free gift of a flat screen TV, he�d surely understand.

I do not bother to engage my caller in a profound discourse on the virtues of having principles. I�m sure he has his own unique set. I hope he exercises his principles even as he doesn�t know that he has any.

Many people have suffered and died for insisting on their principles. I think of Blessed Franz J�gerst�tter, the Austrian who refused on grounds of conscience to serve in the Wehrmacht in World War II and was executed by the Nazis for his troubles. And I think of the many conscientious objectors in apartheid South Africa who would rather go to jail than serve an unjust regime.

I think of my colleagues in the media who have been jailed, beaten and murdered because, as a matter of principle, they reported on crime or corruption or abuse of power, or declined to reveal sources. I think of all the whistleblowers who have been victimised for telling the truth so as to protect others.

And I think of my nephew Jason who recently received a black eye when he bravely confronted older schoolground bullies who were picking on a handicapped boy.

When it comes to the crunch, taking a principled stand requires great courage. And building up that courage starts with the small, mundane stuff in life.

I don�t know whether I will qualify for a �free gift� when I shop around for a new contract in December. It doesn�t matter: abiding by my principles may have cost me R1700 (or R1,565 really) �� but it was worth every cent of it.