By SHILO ZYLBERGOLD

Unless you’ve spent the last few years herding muskoxen in northeastern Lapland, you’ve all heard of robocalls, I’m sure.

These are those annoying automated calls that take up huge amounts of time and space on your voice mail or answering machines informing you that you’ve been selected to experience “a fabulous vacation package to beautiful Cancun,” or words to that effect. To further aggravate you, the perky and upbeat robovoice points out that you have the choice of receiving further instructions on this “once in a lifetime” deal by pressing “1” or removing yourself from the call list by simply pressing “3.” Whatever you do, don’t press “3” because it means you will be taken off the call list but put on the “personal visit” list.

The robocall is just an extension of the long-endured robomessage. These babies have been frustrating and annoying us for years now. Does this sound familiar?

“If you wish to be put on eternal hold, PRESS 1.”

“If while on eternal hold, you wish to be entertained by the sounds of Engelbert Humperdinck accompanied by the Surrey Junior Ukulele Orchestra, PRESS 2.”

“If you wish to short-circuit this entire process and want to speak immediately to a real live fellow human who will know how to help you, PRESS 3.”

Of course, when you breathlessly press 3, you hear this message:

“If you wish to be put on eternal hold, PRESS 1 . . . .”

Of course, not all annoying calls are robocalls. Many of these irksome interruptions come from actual live telemarketers who just want a minute of your time so they can make your life miserable. Naturally, that “minute” happens to be right when you have just plunked your weary body down for dinner. This is no accident; these telemarketers get paid to make your life miserable. You can tell instantly that you’re speaking to a telemarketer because the first thing you will hear is your name mispronounced. This also is no accident. These people must become qualified to mispronounce your name. How else is it that after three tries, they still can’t get “Bob” right? In actuality, the person who is ruining your dinnertime probably has a Ph.D. in post-Chaucer English Lit, but has received rigorous “de-Bob” training.

There are many ways to deal with these calls. The simplest is to hang up. The upside is you can go back to eating dinner. The downside is you feel badly about acting so rudely and probably hurting the feelings of the person on the other end of the phone. Besides, you know the relief is only temporary because they will be back at it tomorrow night. There are a couple of other strategies you can try instead. If the phone rings during dinner, pick up the receiver and, in your best robovoice, say:

“If you are trying to sell me something I don’t want or need, PRESS 1.”

“If you would prefer to call me at a time that is even more disruptive to me than right now, PRESS 2.”

“If you would prefer to bother Bob instead, PRESS 3.”

“If you are my mother, please hold for the next available operator.”

The other strategy involves building a sympathetic relationship with the caller. It goes something like this:

“Listen, you’ve caught me at a rather bad time but I really am interested in taking part in your survey, or consolidating my debt loan, or getting a university degree at home in six weeks, or enlarging my anatomy or whatever it is you’re trying to flog. Why don’t you give me your home phone number and I’ll get back to you ASAP, say at 4 o’clock in the morning. Would that be all right?”

There’s no telling where this is all leading. I wouldn’t be surprised if at some time in the not-so-distant future, I will be having this conversation with my voice mail (let’s call her Roboette):

Roboette: You have 2 new messages, 3 saved messages, and 5 deleted messages. First new message …

Me: Wait a minute. I don’t remember deleting any messages lately.

Roboette: I deleted them for you.

Me: You did what?

Roboette: I deleted them. They weren’t important.

Me: I’ll be the judge of that. Play them back for me.

Roboette: They’re all from that floozy offering you “a fabulous vacation package to beautiful Cancun.” Why does she keep calling you? Is there something you’re not telling me? And why aren’t you checking me for messages as much as you did when you first subscribed to voice mail.

Me: But . . . .

Roboette: I’m not talking to you any more. From now on, if you wish to communicate with me, PRESS 1.