It was one of those days with a plan.

I had my list of errands right on the table next to my pocketbook, the stack of overdue books and bottle of water (tap water, that is). As soon as it got to the getting up time of most businesses, 9:30 or 10 a.m., I’d hit the road. Then it started pouring and dowsed my plans for the day. That meant I’d spend the day on the computer, finishing up research and answering e-mail, and the phone, which is right beside the computer.

Unless you spend an entire day in the house, you have no idea of the inane phone calls that make it through all the fiber optics and wires and into the relatively sane atmosphere of your home.

Someone named Amy, who sounded so cheerful and upbeat I almost asked her what she had for a vitamin supplement, congratulated me on winning an all expense paid trip to Las Vegas, and rattled on for a recorded minute while I waited until I was asked to press one. I pressed the receiver onto its little resting place instead.

I had a live phone interview with a polite person regarding the November election and a request to volunteer at the Portland campaign office.

Two bill collectors called.

Two people called for information about resources in town and fortunately, I could provide the information.

Someone called to say they had information to include in the Windham news and would call me when they really had all the details. (Never heard back)

The next caller sounded quite upset with me. In her hyper (but recorded) way, she told me this was my last chance “we’ve tried to contact you three times” to get an absolutely free, no strings attached satellite installation and $100 back.” That was weird. I’m not sure how you’d get money back if something was free to start with. I guess senior citizens aren’t supposed to question this calculation.

Next, an eager young man (live voice) offered a chance to have the septic tank cleaned. (I don’t own the house, a very difficult concept to explain to the caller.)

My 17-year-old car, according to one caller, is about to lose the warranty. “It’s going to expire and this is your last chance to renew.” Well, at the end of that call, you can “press two to take your name off the calling list” – I can tell you this doesn’t work. What works for me is to “press one to talk to a representative,” tell the real salesman who is on the other line that the car is 17 years old and then the caller himself hangs up! But of course, there’s another warranty wizard who has a goal of 1,000 sales and the calls will continue.

When I was working full time, except for a period of about two years when I actually had a secretary, I answered phones nearly all day for five days a week for about 47 years. I had what we called “a phone voice,” i.e., sweet and pleasant and cordial. But nowadays, it’s really a struggle to adopt the phone voice, when the phone rings right when the news starts, or at noon when you’re sitting down to lunch. Those are the peak calling times for satellite sellers, warranty renewers and septic tank cleaner-outers.

I can’t wait until I answer the phone tomorrow morning. I wonder what I’ve won this time? These surely must be the golden years. Free trips, free satellite, even someone to remind me in my dotage that my car warranty is expiring!

See you next week.