Louella Tries To Muzzle Dun & Bradstreet

Louella tossed her battered Coach handback on the sofa in her condo and kicked off her orthopedic shoes. What a day! she thought. Six hours on my feet at the cash register, with a 15-minute break. Hardly matters that I've got these special nurse shoes. I can't believe I'm wearing these boats!

She thought about getting some white wine from the refrigerator, but her throbbing feet demanded attention first. She rubbed them hard. I really do have to get myself some other kind of job, she thought, but I really like the mindlessness of this one. She felt her cramped toes loosen up. "Aaaaah!" she said aloud. A few minutes later, she was back on the sofa with her chilled wine. Time for Oprah and a nap! she exulted.

Just as she was sinking into slumber, her land line phone rang. It took three rings before Louella was alert enough to answer it. She glanced at the caller ID, saw it was an 800 number, and thought hard about not answering. Well, it's already disturbed me anyhow, so I may as well see what it's about, she thought. "Hello?" she snapped.

"Hello," said a chipper male recorded voice. "We've got easy and simple credit solutions for you. Did you know there are government programs that can...." The voice droned on. There was no way to say you're on the Do Not Call Registry. Louella retaliated by letting the message continue until the end. Time is money, she thought grimly. Let them pay more for bothering me! I am so sick of these interruptions! she fumed. I'm going to re-register online to stop them. 

She opened her laptop and went to https://www.donotcall.gov/. My number's registered, all right! she thought. So how come these calls are getting through?

While online, she did what she often did: searched her own name using Google. Still eight mentions, she thought with a little satisfaction. Bet that's more than most grocery clerks have! She looked through them again and realized there was still one for Dun & Bradstreet. Now, why in the world is my name listed with them? she wondered for the first time. I never thought much about it, but maybe that has something to do with the calls. 

Tooling her way through the Dun & Bradstreet website, she found that her long-ago consulting firm was still listed as being an active business. Holy cow! she thought. I incorporated that eight years ago when I was unemployed the second or third time! The profile gave her home phone number. I'm going to fix this right away! she thought, finding her way to a phone number for a conversation with a human at Dun & Bradstreet. Wonder how long they'll be offering that? she mused.

A young woman answered on the seventh ring. Louella explained the problem and asked to be de-listed from Dun & Bradstreet's database. "I think this is where the telemarketers are getting my number, and I just do not want those calls," she said. "I don't publish my number anywhere."

"Ma'am, your number is part of a legal record, and Dun and Bradstreet isn't able to change that record."

"Well, how can I get my record taken off Dun and Bradstreet completely, just for starters? I never did do business using that number."

"Ma'am, there's nothing we can do. Your number is all over the place, not just with us. You'd have to file a formal affadavit to say you're completely out of business before we could make any change."

"But why? I never asked to be included in your database in the first place. It can't be hard to take me off—just a keystroke or two!"

"Ma'am, listen to me. We don't have anything to do with your records. We can't change them."

"But right here on your website it allows me to alter the profile. It just forces me to include a phone number, and I don't want to do that."

"I repeat, ma'am--you're not listening to me!—Dun and Bradstreet has nothing to do with that. Other companies that want to do business with you need that information, and so do people who might want to extend you credit."

"But I don't want any of that! This is my home number, and it's on the Do Not Call Registry, but apparently it's considered a business phone by people who use your database. I'm so sick of the telemarketing calls I could scream!" Louella tried to keep her voice calm, but it was getting difficult.

"Ma'am, calm down," said the woman on the other end of the line. "Please listen to me. We can't do anything to help you. You're in the official business records."

"But what about those calls? It's unbearable. Do I have to change my phone number? That would be a nuisance, and then somebody else who might get my number someday would be getting those stupid calls."

"Ma'am, I repeat: we publish your number, and so do a lot of other companies. There's nothing we can do."

"Well, there's no benefit to me to be on your list," snapped Louella. A light bulb went off. "I guess Dun and Bradstreet sells my information, doesn't it?"

"Yes, it does. It's a service we provide."

"So you profit from giving out my phone number?"

"We're not the only ones doing it, ma'am. It's a service."

"Well, it's not a service to me," said Louella. "It's a dis-service. I can't believe you let this happen without giving people a chance to get off your list."

"Ma'am, I have to end this call now," said the woman. There was a click, then silence on the other end of the line.

Louella was trembling with rage. I can't believe it! Those dirtbags! Selling my information and causing me pain—and they don't even care! First thing tomorrow, I'm going to cancel my landline phone and get one of those throwaway cell phones.

The phone rang again. It was her father. "Hi Dad!" she said as civilly as she could manage.

"What's the matter, Lou?" he asked. "Bad day?"

"Not until I got home. Stupid telemarketing call just when I was starting to nap."

"Know whatcha mean! Those whatchacall charity people keep calling me—they can do that even if you're on that whatchacall registration thing not to get calls. And my bank keeps calling. Can't hardly get a nap myself, and these days I really need a nap."

"So what's up, Dad?"

"I have to go to the doctor again for another test," he said. "Tomorrow. They say it has to be done real soon."

"But I'm working tomorrow! Can't Candy take you?"

"Aw, you know Candy. She never knows where she'll be or what she'll be doin'. I thought maybe you'd be able to arrange it." Louella could hear the disappointment and fear in his voice.

"What time tomorrow?"

His voice brightened. "It's at ten o'clock. You think you can do it?"

"I don't know, Dad. I'll have to call my manager right away—he leaves in a few minutes. Maybe I can trade time with somebody. I'll have to hang up now, okay? I'll call you right back." 

"Okay. I'm waiting right here," said her father.

Louella dialed her work number. How in the world am I going to be able to get away from this phone? She wondered. Everybody I want to hear from has this number too.

Her boss picked up. "Yo, Louella! What's up?"

It took some doing, but Louella got him to agree to let her work later in the day. She could tell she'd have some payback to do for the favor.

If I get up real early tomorrow, before I get Dad, I can get this line disconnected. And then after I take him home, I'll get one of those throw-aways. The idea that nobody would be able to reach her by phone until she gave out the new number suddenly made her giddy with relief. Tomorrow can't come fast enough, she thought, as she took the receiver off the hook and stretched out on her sofa.

—TO BE CONTINUED—