It used to be your dinner time was sacrosanct. Nobody would EVER dare call you. If they did, there were profuse apologies. Wouldn't happen again. At least not in civilized America. Now, you can count on a half dozen of those phone sleaze interrupting the solitude of your meal on a daily basis. "Honey, pass the Zantac© please!"

You call always tell. There is that pause after you pick up the phone. You know it is about to happen. Your stomach begins to churn. It is a telemarketer. "Mr. Lev-ITT?" They always mispronounce your name. "This is Frank from Repo Mortgage Company." Your blood begins to boil. "How are you this evening?"

"Well, if you must know, I just finished my chemo and I'm hurling chunks over my wife and dog." "Glad to hear that, Mr. MOR-ton, I'll just take a minute." Of course, Frank's stopwatch was made in Taiwan. After a 3-minute high-velocity regurgitation of the script, he is ready to pop the question. "Can I just verify a few things with you?" You learn that he already knows your name, address, your dog's name and your jock size. "Look, Frank," you shout, desperation seizing your quavering voice, "to tell you the truth, we are getting ready to sell our house to some Tibetan monks, and I really don't think I need to refinance."

"Well, Mr. Lev-EY, if it is the points that bother you, we also feature a 0 point 7-1 ARM." It seems they have an answer for everything. "Frank," your voice getting low and deliberate , "my son needs to use the phone now to call that 1-900-HOTSEXX line." "Mr. Lev-ITE, how does a free calculator sound to you?"

You are now ready to launch a nuclear attack on his office complex. "Frank, my dinner is getting cold," you plead, "why don't you give me your number and I can call you back later at my convenience." "We're not allowed to give out our phone numbers," says Frank, " but there's a free Rand-McNally Road Atlas in it for you if I can just send your our literature?" "OK, great," you say, hoping to get the slime ball off the line finally. "I just need your household annual income so I can get this right off to you."

"My income? I don't give that sort of thing over the phone!" "Is it over 50, 000?" "Well..I....maybe...no...it's none of your @#&!!* business." "Between 50 and 75?" "Look, asshole, I'm not giving you my income, no way, so bug off and leave me alone!!" "Seventy-five thousand, then." "Frank," your heart pounding in your chest now, why don't you go and stick your fingers up your hard drive!!!!" "Mr. Love-IT, no need to be rude, I'll just put this in the mail for you now. Have a nice evening. click..."

Funny thing is you just refinanced with Colonial the day before....