Spam Wars II. Giving Up.

I spent a lot of time talking to MTN the other week. I say a lot of time talking to MTN, but what I really mean is, I spent a lot of time flinging furious handfuls of shit at their walls while they stoically ignored me. I am not naïve enough to think that a large corporation actually cares about my feelings and I know, due to being a big boy, that they will not stop sending me SMS spam just because I tell them I don’t like it, but I just got tired of sitting back and suffering this abuse. SMS spam is not just annoying, it is stupid, too and that is what makes it abusive to me. The stupid is much harder to endure than the merely annoying.

The typical frustration of sms spam is that it always comes in at some inconvenient moment, say when you are in the middle of an important meeting, or important meal, or important session of sexual intercourse, and you pause to check it, only to find that it was just somebody telling you to download the Coccidiosis caller tune for example. Coccidiosis is not worth coitus interruptus.

However, that is not much of a problem to me these days due to the fact that nobody sends sms anymore. If anyone has anything to tell me they send it on whatsapp or they inbox my facebook. If I ever hear an sms beep I already know it is spam and I ignore it.

So sms is no longer annoying, but it is stupid. For example, asking me to buy caller tunes. Coccidiosis? Even BC himself knows I don’t want.

Not to be confused with Bebe Cool

Then there was the one where they told me that I could buy a bundle of SMS at a low price. But at that same price I can get enough bundle to whatsapp my battery to death. Puhleese.

But the killer was when they told me I could buy a Galaxy S4 at One million seven hundred and fifty shillings. I can imagine how a guy on a katoorchi would feel having his chow interrupted by an sms telling him to buy an S4.

So I decided if they are going to send me annoying messages, I am going to send them annoying messages too. Every time I got an sms, I would go to their facebook wall and post crap and idiocy and nonsense and mwawa and make a jolly nuisance of myself on their wall. It actually turned out to be quite fun.


They made some quaint attempts to mollify me on their page. Things like asking, “What is the problem?” “What can we do for you?” etc.

Now, I know that this is just a formality. It costs the phone company, no matter which one it, next to nothing to spam four million people just so they can get forty villagers to play lotto or buy Coccidiosis, so the rest of us can go fuck ourselves if we don’t like it. They don’t care.

And the poor pawn on customer service duty at the facebook page is just a powerless figurehead who is only there to absorb the anger and can do nothing to solve the problem.


So the “How can I help you?” was just empty posturing, and I know this, but what drained me and made me just realize that this fight was way too silly for me was this: All their queries begin with the word “Yello”.




As in “Yello, Baz. How can we help you?”

I can imagine the person on the other side, bristling with indignation at the torrents of sarcastic abuse I had just sprayed all over their wall, at four o’clock, when they were just about to get up and go home for the day. And now I have upset messed up their targets for maintaining social media harmony  (companies still believe that social media is a good thing. Poor dears. They have refused to see if for the cesspool of petty entitled tantrum-throwing brats it really is.)

So this person is clearly not glad that I am here talking shit on their page but they have to greet me like this.

At least, “Sir, what is the meaning of this outrage?” would have been more appropriate but instead,


But they have to say, “Yello, Baz!” with that squeally yellow Ceebeebies jollity and sunshine as if everyone here is happy.


Yello Muthafucka!!

The whole thing is so disingenuous and forced and so desperate and pathetic that I just didn’t want to hear it any more. That was it for me.