Of all the things Quassim tries to sell me, one of the few I buy is the story that he has a degree in psychology.

Among the things I don’t believe are: He makes all his money from telemarketing; he could afford to buy a house in town if he was so inclined; several women have wanted to move in with him, but he has said no. I also don’t believe he is a natural redhead. When he tells me something, he tilts his head, smiles and checks my expression to see what I’m falling for. It’s a game he plays.

I want to believe Quassim is a decent guy who used to work with troubled children. I want to believe he quit because the stress was too much, and he was disheartened because he didn’t feel he was making a difference. I want to believe he’s never “been arrested, well, for anything violent.”

I have no trouble believing that he listens to rap music so loud that the cops come to tell him to turn it down. Or that his friends think he’s crazy, and his parents want him to get a real job. I believe he’s sold BMX bikes, construction equipment and radio air time over the phone.

Quassim is a career telemarketer because he likes to play the game. He likes to figure out what it will take for each caller to buy what he’s selling. He thinks quickly, adding an inflection here, or making small talk there, while trying to persuade callers they can trust him with their social security number, their credit card number, their mother’s maiden name.

Quassim is competitive. As far as he’s concerned, he is on one team, and the people on the other end of the phone line are on another. At the end of the call, someone will come out the winner, and Quassim wants to be the one. He rarely gets hung up on any more, he says proudly. That’s for novice telemarketers, which he most definitely is not. In fact, he’s been a telemarketer in one capacity or another since he graduated from college five years ago.

For Quassim, telemarketing is easy money. He usually exceeds the quotas set for him by his company and makes top commission. He’s not getting rich, he says, but he’s getting by with little effort. He can support himself by working 19 hours a week, which gives him the freedom to spend long hours perfecting his skateboarding skills. And he likes the idea of being anonymous. Invisible to his customers, Quassim can be whoever he wants to be. If he wants, he can keep his piercings in, paint his fingernails black and shave his head slick. Or he can wear khakis, a button-down oxford shirt and sensible shoes. He’s done both. His customers are none the wiser.