Heater, Mother of Lance

Jon’s Wife

So this telemarketer from Sears just called and asked for Jon. And since I knew immediately that it was a telemarketer I told her no, he wasn’t here, but if she’d like to leave her name and home telephone number, I’m sure he’d love to call her back at an inconvenient time. And I don’t think she even heard me because she just sort of ignored me and said, “Well then, is Jon’s wife available?” And normally I would have said no, but I couldn’t help but wonder how she knew that he was married, and if she knew that much information, what else did she know? So I said, “Yes, I am Jon’s wife,” and before I could ask her how she knew that he was married, or if she also knew that he has a chronically unmanageable thicket of curls covering his entire head, or that he can’t sleep in past 7:30 AM on any given morning, and that when he wakes up he has the cutest uncontrollable urge to tap me and nuzzle my neck even though I’m usually grumpy and covered in a thick film of my own morning breath, or that he bought me Mother’s Day presents on behalf of the dog, or that he can stand to be around my family even though they’re abrasively Southern and very into plastic plants, or that he can wield a weed whacker LIKE NOBODY’S BUSINESS, or that he has such a remarkable relationship with the dog that the dog will only go pee if he is standing nearby, or that he hits his head on the heating ducts every single time he goes into the basement and vows that he is going to cover those fuckers with foam but never gets around to it, or that he has the most beautiful hands, perfectly aged and rough from working every day of his life and that there is nothing more satisfying in this life than to look down and see those hands gripping my waist, or that he can stand a certain way when he comes home from work, slightly angular, his arms heavy from fatigue, and that it makes my heart beat so fast that I can burn an entire package of Twizzler’s Cherry Nibs worth of calories just by looking at him, before I could ask her any of this, she made the monumental mistake of asking, “Well, does he allow you to answer his phone calls?” And I know she didn’t mean any offense, or at least for a split second I gave her the benefit of the doubt and assumed she didn’t mean any offense, but after that single split second I gave into the hackles on the back of my neck and answered rather lovingly into the speaker phone, “I’m not sure about that lady, but I am sure that your husband ALLOWS you to be a cunt.” And if she didn’t know before, she knows now that Jon allows me to use such language.

  • grants

    2003/05/13 at 2:56 pm

    Good story. I like it.

  • Chris

    2003/05/13 at 2:59 pm

    Dooce! How dare you blast the virgin ears of innocent Telemarketers! LOL!!!!

  • Chad

    2003/05/13 at 3:01 pm

    #2! So Close! I’d like to nuzzle Jon’s neck when he wakes up, baby.

  • jess

    2003/05/13 at 3:01 pm


  • Chad

    2003/05/13 at 3:02 pm

    Ok so #3. Thanks Chris. 8^Þ

  • Chad

    2003/05/13 at 3:05 pm

    So, now that I finished reading, is that something that Utah telemarketers ask? Perhaps only 4 of the 6 wives in a household there are allowed to answer the husband’s phone calls.

  • Aaron Schutzengel

    2003/05/13 at 3:16 pm


  • joy

    2003/05/13 at 3:27 pm

    Wow! You reeaally love him don’t you.

  • arrancia

    2003/05/13 at 3:49 pm

    aw yeah.
    of course, it’s irritating that you can’t have a name anymore. i mean, it must be really irritating to keep signing your name, “jon’s wife” on everything.
    next time, tell her you don’t let HIM answer the phone.

  • jsn

    2003/05/13 at 3:54 pm

    Very nice!

  • Janna

    2003/05/13 at 4:31 pm

    Go, Dooce. Props for giving her the split second of the benefit of the doubt; it was much more than she deverved for such a question.

    (Oh, Dooce, I am such an incurable AP English student– I just style analyzed this post– I didn’t mean to, I swear!– one day something of yours will show up on the exam, I just know it)

  • louisegyrl

    2003/05/13 at 4:52 pm

    that was great!!

  • lola

    2003/05/13 at 4:55 pm

    *contented sigh*
    thanks for reminding me why i check your site every single day to see if there’s a new dooceism. you can tell a story like nobody else on earth. i love eet.

  • Jay

    2003/05/13 at 4:55 pm

    “Honey, some lady on the phone today called me a cunt!”

    “Well, Dear, that’s what goes along with being allowed to be a cunt. Remember that talk we had about new responsibilities?”

  • chorizo

    2003/05/13 at 4:58 pm

    such a potty mouth! (snicker)

    that girl will never approach a call the same again…

  • Melissa

    2003/05/13 at 5:01 pm

    I am in awe of your ability to tell a story and turn a phrase, and at the same time left feeling entirely inadequate by your wit.



  • April

    2003/05/13 at 5:05 pm

    It is SO truly gratifying to read the love between you two between the lines. I hope your happy ending lasts forever and ever, through parenthood and grandparenthood… Oh, and may you never get rude telemarketing calls again.

  • lorelei

    2003/05/13 at 5:16 pm

    I love that Jon’s wife is able to downgrade that telemarketer because they have it too easy. I mean all that telemarketer’s do all day is take crap lines like that from people. I’m glad that Jon’s wife could rebuke her royally for a question that she’s being paid to ask. Wow, sheer brilliance.

  • ChibaCity

    2003/05/13 at 5:26 pm

    Southern? It’s the Yoknapatawpha gene that gives the ability to spin yarn, and Miss H. surely does have it. ‘As if every word were a pocket into which a thousand meanings can be put’: it’s amazing how much there is packed into that phrase “Well, does he allow you to answer his phone calls?”. I’d say that’s one lucky telemarketer. To be alive, and such. Mmmhmmm.

  • ChibaCity

    2003/05/13 at 5:31 pm

    Ugh! Spin *a* yarn! Stop laughing! You know what I meant!

  • Zorbs

    2003/05/13 at 5:32 pm

    3 words: RUN ON SENTENCE!!!!!

  • kym

    2003/05/13 at 5:35 pm

    I am never disappointed when I visit your site and see that you’ve updated. You have a remarkable way with words.

  • Aaron

    2003/05/13 at 5:47 pm

    …or that he has the most beautiful hands, perfectly aged and rough from working every day of his life and that there is nothing more satisfying in this life than to look down and see those hands gripping my waist…

    You’ve written about this man of yours many a time, but this is the first time I’ve actually been able to empathize about your feelings for him. You’re right. Those moments when you look at someone and think “they are so incredible. and what is this? they reach for me?” can never be dupliccated.

  • Malisa

    2003/05/13 at 5:51 pm


  • Zandria

    2003/05/13 at 6:26 pm

    YES!! That is so great. I usually hang up the phone immediately when I hear a voice that is obviously a telemarketers’, but it is my desire to make their lives a living hell. If they can take a job that fills so many people’s lives with annoyance, then they deserve whatever comes their way. What kind of person willingly takes that kind of job anyway?

  • beth

    2003/05/13 at 6:39 pm

    i am crying that was so funny. thank you.

  • Broch

    2003/05/13 at 7:12 pm

    I. have. to. pee.

  • anarchocyclist

    2003/05/13 at 7:24 pm

    Who is this Nobdoy, and what does his business have to do with weed whacking?

  • michele

    2003/05/13 at 7:35 pm

    That was classic! My no. 1 pet peeve is a telemarketer.
    As soon as I got married, it was like a million of them suddenly had our number! It must be some sort of rite of passage.

    **sigh** I love the way you love Jon. So romantic and REAL! Chuck is one lucky pup to have parents like that!

  • Summer

    2003/05/13 at 7:44 pm

    Dear God. That is so very offensive. On her part, not yours. Well said.

  • brent dos

    2003/05/13 at 7:48 pm

    Okay, so this is dumb, but it gives me such great pleasure: What I like to do with telemarketers is just answer the phone, then not say anything. It cracks me up to here them get pist that no one is answering back. The best effect is to have the TV or stereo or a loud conversation going. I guess it’s the little things.

  • Tiffany

    2003/05/13 at 7:49 pm

    Nicely put, although I think my favorite response to the “Are you the wife” question remains “Of course not. I’m his concubine.”

    There is little as refreshing as a couple who are so crazy in love with each other.

  • Jeni

    2003/05/13 at 7:58 pm

    You writing flows so wonderfully…and the payoff always has me in stitches.

    Do you think I could get you to tape the outgoing message on my machine?? I bet it would work better than the TeleZapper!

  • dayment

    2003/05/13 at 8:02 pm

    “Is Mr. Dayment home?”
    “Is this his wife?”
    “Shit, no! Is THIS his wife?”

  • Erica

    2003/05/13 at 8:09 pm

    I talked to a telemarketer today and I totally wish I had thought to call him a cunt. Although he did admit that his calling was probably annoying.

  • the mighty jimbo

    2003/05/13 at 8:11 pm

    dammit. you make him sound so fucking wonderful even *I* want to cuddle with him.

    ok so maybe not. but still, you are a fabulously lucky woman.

    truth be told, however, by having someone who can look at him like that and love him so completely like that (not to mention someone who can use language like that, piss off telemarketers like that and keep thousands of strangers hopelessly addicted to this blog), i think he may be even luckier than you.

  • Nisa

    2003/05/13 at 8:14 pm

    Damn. I had a telemarketer say something like that to me a few weeks ago. I was so taken aback by the equally bitchy tone that accompanied her remark, that she hung up before I could say anything. I thought maybe it was just my luck to get a real bitch, but I guess there’re others around too.

  • Sarah B.

    2003/05/13 at 8:29 pm

    Oh, I love you. I really do. I hope I have twelve daughters just like you. I’ll send you eleven.

  • the mighty jimbo

    2003/05/13 at 10:03 pm

    nobdoy. heh. anarchocyclist, good catch.

  • kath

    2003/05/13 at 10:36 pm

    Good lord, you’d better keep an eye on that guy; you’ve now got hundreds of readers drooling over him.

  • Kevynn Malone

    2003/05/13 at 11:42 pm


  • Heather #2

    2003/05/14 at 1:05 am

    So I read the first sentence. Then my eyes strayed to the right and I read “Feeling Guilty”. And I read the rest of the post as if you were talking to this lady from the pot. It was even funnier that way.

  • dvl

    2003/05/14 at 1:18 am

    I’m also the one to field those calls at home, and it never fails that my last name (pronounced L-orange-er) is always completely butchered; but, from now on, whenever asked if “Mr. Low-rang-ger or his wife” is available, in your honor, Dooce, I will yell “WIFE!? The bastard is Married???”, then put the phone on the counter and proceed to curse in the distace about him lying to me and cheating on me…. and then hang up.

  • Kojotovski

    2003/05/14 at 1:41 am

    She’s just doing her job, dooce (or perhaps “Seinfield”)…

  • zak

    2003/05/14 at 4:00 am

    Given that you’re in Mormon-land you should asked which wife she wanted to speak to.

    Great tale. Telemarketers should be banned.

  • Dotty

    2003/05/14 at 4:03 am

    That is the most pitiful thing I ever heard. Can I echo a previous commenter’s congratulations on your probably ruining the day of some minimum-wage-slave. But then again, she deserved it, slightly inconveniencing you like that, whilst not being as hip and PC as you. Go college girl!

  • Zorbs

    2003/05/14 at 4:12 am

    I worked for 6 weeks as a telemarketer and I have no problems telling one that my parents aren’t available to speak to them, because they are at an Al Qaeda meeting.

  • Matt

    2003/05/14 at 4:26 am

    Well said.

    Is it possible that telemarketers are simply the telephone version of the weirdos on *COPS* that not only annoy but ammuse us AND make us feel better for the lives we live? Sure, it’s a pain in the rump to listen to the screen-fed diatribe about this credit card, that phone company, or yet another fantastic deal on repairing a hail-damaged roof (this week only, of course), but I have to hand it to you for listening, processing, and letting ’em have it.
    Oh, and by the way, not to sound like an old fashioned fuddy-duddy, but wouldn’t the world be better off if we could 1) get rid of the telemarketers, and 2) all learn how to show our spouse we love them as much as Dooce and Jon love each other? Yup, it would be nice.
    Rock on, DOoce.

  • jodi

    2003/05/14 at 4:51 am

    As usual, you have made my day. You RULE as the #1 blog I care to read.

    Are you allowed to take his calls? Jeez louise!

    “No, I’m really not. He only just added enough links to my chain so I can reach the toilet. Try me next week.”

  • Kristin

    2003/05/14 at 5:47 am

    I can’t even tell you what I would have said to that woman, but I’m in awe of people who can put that feeling of rage into a sentence that eloquent….rock on, Dooce.

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Heather B. Armstrong

Hi. I’m Heather B. Armstrong, and this used to be called mommy blogging. But then they started calling it Influencer Marketing: hashtag ad, hashtag sponsored, hashtag you know you want me to slap your product on my kid and exploit her for millions and millions of dollars. That’s how this shit works. Now? Well… sit back, buckle up, and enjoy the ride.

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