I picked up the phone on the first ring.

“Hello?”

“Hello,” the man said. “I’m calling from the Colorado Law Enforcement Department for Barry Smith. Is this Barry?”

I felt my heart leap into my throat. My mind raced. What had I done? What did I know? How much did they know? And about what? Did someone squeal? Since when do I use the word “squeal?” And why did I even answer the phone?

Thanks to the one-two combo of Caller ID and an answering machine, I have basically eliminated the need for answering the phone without essential previous knowledge. It rings, I check the Caller ID and decide if I want to talk to this person at the moment. If the readout declares the call is from someone I don’t know, I just let the machine get it. You know, just like you do.

And they say that technology has decreased our connection to humanity. Ha.

But at that moment, I was expecting a call from my wife, and I was so sure that this was her that I picked up without going through my checklist.

“Yes …” I replied, wondering silently whether or not I was going to have to start flushing things down the toilet.

"Are you a dad, Barry?” the caller asked.

Huh?

“Uh, no…” I replied.

“Well, you sure sound like one!"

What a strange thing to say. I had, at this point in our conversation, said only “hello,” “yes” and “uh, no.” Were any of these particularly dad-like expressions? If I’d answered the phone with “Get off your ass and pick up the goddam dog crap,” then I’d have been able to follow his logic. But, as I said, I thought it was my wife on the other end, so my initial “Hello” was of the little-sweetikins-baby-talk variety. You know, more like: “Hewww-ooOOO.”

Who knows? Maybe that’s the way this guy’s dad talks.

“Uh … okay,” I said.

“Don’t worry, Barry, that’s a good thing. Now, Barry, I’m calling, Barry, because …”

What followed was a slick, fast-talking sales pitch. It was a phone solicitation! Duh! Deep breath.

How could I have been so paranoid? Like the cops are actually gonna phone in a bust:

“OK, now kick your front door in and yell ‘Freeze!’ Good. Now tell yourself to lie face down with your hands behind your head. Tell yourself to do it NOW! Call yourself a scumbag. If you can manage to kick yourself in the balls, that would be helpful. Am I going too fast?”

No, it was a telemarketer, and I must admit that I was so overwhelmed with relief that I missed most of his pitch, except for the fact that every third word was my name.

“…you see, Barry, this way, Barry, the police can spend more time in schools, Barry, keeping kids off drugs, Barry…”

This guy spoke to me with such familiarity that you’d think I just agreed to give him one of my kidneys.

I tuned back in about right here: “…and for a thirty five dollar donation, Barry, you get a gift, Barry, a sticker. It’s a sheriff’s badge, Barry, you stick it on your rear windshield and it lets the officers out there know that you support them, Barry.”

Aha! How very subtle. So, the next time I get caught driving at a speed that is a little more enthusiastic than the agreed limit, this small donation allows me to perhaps get a warning rather than a ticket?

I resented this intimidation. Hey, if I give, say, $75, could I get a “You Don’t Seem All That Drunk To Me’” sticker? How much will it cost to get a really BIG sticker, one that can be clearly identified at high speeds and long distances? That way we can just forego the whole lights and sirens and hands-where-I-can-see-‘em rigmarole.

And do actual cops know that you are using such a nudge-nudge, wink-wink bribery approach in their name?

I attempted to express all of this to my salesman, but was unable to get a word in edgewise. The guy clearly didn't call to get a take on my particular philosophy. He called for the commission he got on each sale. And so he could say the word "Barry" 45 times per minute.

I told him I wasn’t interested.

He skipped down to the part of his script he’s supposed to read when people say they aren’t interested, the part that nimbly likens your lack of interest to actively supporting heroin use in pre-schoolers.

I repeated that I was not interested, but thanks for the heart attack.

He said “Thanks, Barry” and hung up the phone at the same time.

It sounded like this: "Thanks Ba--"

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