I Miss Telemarketers

A few years ago my wife and I signed up for the national Don't Call registry.  We did so for two reasons.  First, we dropped our land line a few years back and did not want telemarketers using up our cell phone minutes.  Second, and perhaps more importantly, I hate telemarketers.  With a passion.  Now that they no longer call I kind of miss them, but not for the reasons you might think.
As much as I despise telemarketers they did perform a useful function in my life.  Namely, they let me blow off steam.  I come home from work and I'm not having a good day.  There was traffic, construction, I had to wait 45 minutes for the doctor, etc...  Then the phone rings.  It is some strange person calling from some strange land like India or Iowa and they want to take up my valuable time trying to sell me something I have no interest in buying.  So I take this opportunity, this gift if you will, to release all of my pent-up anger and frustration.  "When you were a kid did you imagine that your life would be such a failure?"  I snidely ask at the first opportunity.  Or, "No wonder you can't get a date with a voice like that."  And perhaps my favorite, which I reserve just for the guys, "So how many [fill in with product name] does your pimp make you sell each night before you get to go home?"  They hang up and I feel better.  For the moment, anyway.
Venting on telemarketers was much safer road rage.  I am not a small guy, but I understand that cutting off the car in front of me may have some adverse consequences.  Like a 6'8", 340lb very angry man who wants to see if in fact I will break open like a pinata when he hits me with a baseball bat.  Telemarketers are not a threat.  They are faceless voices on the other end of a phone line.  They are not people, after all, they are telemarketers.  Right?
In an impersonal society we treat people, well, impersonally.  Granted, calling me at mealtime to sell me timeshares in Fort Wayne is not a sign of respect.  Yet that does not give me a free pass to pretend that the person calling is entitled to have my spleen vented all over them.  It is strange, but when we think there are no consequences, or at least no direct consequences that involve baseball bats, we can get pretty cruel.  Inhumane.  Downright unchristian.
I don't know what Jesus would do about telemarketers and to be honest I don't really care.  I know what I am supposed to do.  I also know that there have been days when I really didn't want to treat that person calling me with anything that resembled compassion, grace or love.  And that is why I miss telemarketers.  They force me to be the person I am called to be.  Jesus said to love your enemies. But what about your enemy who can't hurt you, who you can't see?  That is tough, but just as important.  What we do when we think there are no consequences tells a great deal about who we are and what we believe.  Real love for other people shows up when someone calls you while your children are screaming, you have a massive headache, and your dinner is getting cold.  Valentines Day love is easy.  Thursday night telemarketer love is the real deal.
Alright, if you have read this far you are entitled to know that I never really said such nasty things to telemarketers.  Usually I just muttered something under my breath and hung up.  But I thought the lines up and I wanted to say them.  Badly.  Which in some ways makes me no better than the people who have teed off on telemarketers.  But it might also mean that God's grace has a hold on my tongue if not my heart.  I hope that is true.  I also hope to never, ever, get a call from a telemarketer again.