My mobile phone, on the other hand, has been relatively free of junk calls. Up until yesterday, I’ve only had one telemarketing incident: someone trying to sell mobile phone service. He phoned during the day, but I was asleep thanks to having a very late night previously. I played along, and rambled somewhat unthinkingly at him for a while (not hard — he woke me up), and he eventually accused me of wasting his time, and hung up on me. Score!

The second incident came yesterday, and I think it’s a bad sign of things to come, which is why I mention it here. This call was not an in-person telemarketing call, but a pre-recorded one. The inconsiderate pests just phoned me up and played their ad at me — a completely mechanical process. The reason it was targeted at my mobile was clear enough: it was an ad for one of those atrocious “premium rate” scams services; specifically, WizQuiz Pty Ltd (ACN 127 627 089). Their quiz strikes me as a bit of a rip off: they send you a “trivia question” via premium SMS ($6.60, ka-ching), which you can answer ($0.25, ka-ching), and if you get it wrong, they’ll let you know through another premium SMS ($6.60, ka-ching), and so on. If you get it right, then you’re competing against everyone else who got it right for whatever prize they’re offering — probably an iPod or something small like that. That’s potentially a lot of ka-ching for very little outlay on their part. I listened to their entire ad in silence, hoping that it would increase their running costs more than simply hanging up would, but with potential income like that, it’s no wonder they can afford to rack up some expenses.

Personally, I wish I could opt out of “premium rate” anything with all phone companies, but it seems like they get a slice of the action, so it’s not in their own immediate interest to let you opt out. Fortunately, there is something that can be done about telemarketing, and it’s about time I did it myself. As of 31 May, 2007, telemarketers in Australia (or operating on behalf of Australian businesses) are bound by the “Do Not Call Register”. I’m pretty sure the existence of this register isn’t widely known — after all, it’s not like the telemarketers are going to mention it. Whatever the case, I’m now going to add both my phone numbers to this register, and see if I can’t claim back my communications services from these nuisances.

In the long run, however, it wouldn’t surprise me if we need to add “white list” functionality to phones, such that my phone only rings if the caller is in my personal phonebook. All others get diverted to voicemail or something. Actually, I’d be happy to take telemarketing calls — I just want it to be on the receiving end of one of those “premium rate” numbers. Go ahead: market at me — $6.60 per minute, including tax.

I’d refrain from saying anything at all if it weren’t for the fact that I too am on their hit-list of people to con. Like many other domain name registrants, I get snail-mail from DRoA to notify me that my domain name is going to expire soon. Like most of those others, I have no business dealings with DRoA at all. Their “Domain Name Expiration Notice” is junk mail dressed up to look like something important and official.

No doubt their manifest lack of business ethics has been profitable, even if it has gained them an ill reputation and made them the target of court action from time to time. It’s easy to see how a person unschooled in the ins and outs of domain name registration could form the mistaken belief that this “notice” was somehow official, and had the force of an invoice rather than a solicitation. No rational actor would buy DRoA’s overpriced services if they were properly informed of the facts and the abundance of cheaper registrars.

But it’s not just their disingenuous advertising methods and inflated prices that make me think ill of them. The stereotypical “fine print” on the back of this junk-impersonating-a-notice contains such unconscionable gems as the following condition relating to transfer of a domain away from DRoA to another registrar.

You… agree to pay any and all fees that may be charged by DRoA to effect the transfer.

What a nice little poison pill that is. If you figure out that you’ve been had, and that you don’t need to keep paying DRoA’s high prices, they can sting you on your way out the door with a fee of unspecified magnitude.

Domain Registry of America is a company rank with misdirection. If all the above doesn’t demonstrate the substance of that assertion, then consider the letterhead on this “Domain Name Expiration Notice”, which incorporates part of the US flag. DRoA is based in Ontario, Canada. And ultimately they are not even an ICANN-accredited registrar, let alone a registry.

“Domain Registry of America?” Bah! Humbug!