Contact made

Prrr prrr ... the familiar sound of the phone receiver felt good, as it told me that somewhere in - let me see, yes, Morningside - a telephone was ringing. Once, twice, three times and then...

"Hello?"

At the sound of the voice - female, older, well-to-do Edinburgh accent - I tried to visualise what her surroundings might me. In my mind's eye, I saw a light, airy hallway, pictures on the walls, probably antique prints. It was just a tentative sketch so far, and in the course of a phone conversation I'd revise details as necessary - for me, it all helped build up a rapport.

"Good afternoon," I replied. "Can I speak to Mrs Woods, please?"

"Speaking. And can I ask who you are?" Firm, but just the right side of polite. The voice of someone who was certainly used to having things her own way.

"Certainly. My name is Alan Mackie, and I'm calling on behalf of Harbour Financial. I believe you made an enquiry about an investment, is that correct?"

"Harbour Financial? Never heard of you. Is this some kind of sales call? We're ex-directory, you know. How did you get this number?"

Hmmm. Another hot lead from the slush pile. Thanks, Steve.

"We're Independent Financial Advisers, Mrs Woods. And I have an enquiry here giving your telephone number, in connection with an ISA investment..."

"Well it's not me, I can assure you. Oh, wait a minute - this sounds like some nonsense Gerard might have set up."

"Er, Gerard would be..."

"My husband. Very soon to be ex-husband. Making investments in my name would be just the kind of thing he'd do. You're wasting your time, Mr Macdonald."

I sensed that correcting her wasn't really going to help the situation.

"Um, I see. Would it possible to speak to..."

"And now you're wasting your time and mine. Goodbye, Mr Macdonald."

Ah, the thrill of the sale.



Story begins here.