Confessions Of A Former Phone Psychic

SAN DIEGO (TNA) -- I can predict you will probably be offended by the following article.

How do I know? I’m a former psychic.

Yep, that was me you talked to that one time in the middle of the night when you were down and out and wanted to find out if you would ever get a better job, better boyfriend or ever smoke crack again.

Well, I was right, wasn’t I?

Believe it or not, there are lots of people like me. People with no legitimate psychic ability who earn money talking to lonely souls on the phone in the middle of the day or night.

The difference between me and the others is, those other fake psychics are fooling themselves and their customers. At least I’m at least not fooling myself.

My journey as a psychic began in college when I started studying astrology in order to pick up women. I knew all the little details about each sign and their compatibility. And since women love talking about themselves, you’d think I’d have it made.

No dice. Problem was, I understood astrology so well and was so good at articulating the mumbo-jumbo that women wanted me to read their palms, not squeeze their breasts.

Even worse: I would be so accurate that it would scare them away.

"You’re going to meet a guy who will come on real sensitive, but really just wants to get in your pants," I’d say to a woman.

"Ohmigod, you’re so correct," she’d say and walk away.

The key to bluffing your way through astrology is treating it like a jazz musician would. There are only 12 notes and a good musician uses those to fake his or her way through a million different songs.

Same with a psychic. Learn all 12 zodiac signs and you can bluff your way through a million different lives.

Being a psychic was a good party trick throughout college. I even earned some cash performing at a sorority gala. I thought it would be hard, but it turned out to be easy. I was able to give the same reading for everyone there.

Since they were all in college, and most were seniors, I could get away with saying, "Your life is in flux right now. You’re making plans for the future, but you still see life as a blank canvas and you’re not sure what you want to paint."

"Ohmigod, you’re so correct."

After graduating from college, I needed to earn money fast. I saw an ad requesting phone psychics and, on a lark, decided to apply.

Little did I know, it would change my life. I didn’t think I had the chops to bluff my way through a reading from someone who I was sure was expert at separating the psychic wheat from the clairvoyant chaff.

I needn’t have worried. The woman who called me up from the company in Florida sounded young. Real young. She asked me to give her a reading and I spent 25 minutes dissecting her life and comparing her current fate with the episode of Leave It To Beaver where the Beav climbs up a billboard and lands in a vat of fake soup.

"You look like a fool to others, but you’re the only one taking chances," I said. Other times, I read direct quotes from a book about tarot cards.

After this bravura performance, I paused, expecting to hear applause.

Instead, I heard crickets.

After a moment, the woman said, "Well, your reading wasn’t very accurate, but it was entertaining. You’re hired."

With that, I became a professional psychic earning $12 an hour, plus bonuses for every call longer than 20 minutes.

I had to invest in two phone lines since it’s considered bad form for telepsychics to interrupt a psychic reading in order to use call waiting.

Also, I had to be willing to work between 9 p.m. and 3 a.m., because that is when most of the infomercials ran on TV. Generally, calling a phone psychic is something that might be considered an "impulse purchase." In fact, most people don’t budget it into their savings.

I remember my first call vividly. That’s because it was also my second, third and fourth call as well.

She was a psychic junkie who called herself Shaniqua the first time, Shanie, the second, Quani, the third and Shaniqua the fourth.

Generally, a psychic junkie is someone who calls multiple times hoping to hear a different, better answer to her question: "Do he love me?"

That is the No. 1 question asked of phone psychics. Not "Does he love me?" But "Do he love me?"

It comes up all the time.

"Well, looking at the cards and your astrological charts, it seems like you and Big Earl are having some communication gaps and may find it hard to be together."

"Okay, okay. But what I want to know is, do he love me?"

"Well, he likes being with you when he can, but it looks like he likes other people as well. A LOT of other people."

"But do he love me?"

"Love is such a tricky word, ma’m. Some people love ice cream and their dogs. I certainly think he loves you as much as he loves ice cream."

After the fourth call, headquarters called me to let me know there was a psychic junkie asking, "Do he love me?" I told the woman on the other end that I had already met her.

"Well, if she calls again. Hang up. She never pays her bill."

If the phrase "Do he love me?" sounds African-American, you might be onto something. The majority of my calls during my 11-month phone psychic stint were from African-American women.

Some of them just wanted some hope. Others were in dire need of a psychiatrist, not a psychic. A couple of times, I tried to steer them towards a real therapist, not a guy sitting in his boxers in a one-bedroom, cockroach-infested apartment.

Alas, to no avail. As one woman put it: "A psychiatrist will KNOW I’m crazy."

Other callers needed more help than I could provide.

For instance, if a woman says, "My husband beats me and I don’t what to do," what I am supposed to say? "Well, Mercury is in retrograde and that makes communication very difficult."

Other times, helping the callers was much easier, such as the guy who willingly spent $4.99 a minute to find out the answer to this question: "Am I going to be stuffin’ someone’s muffin tonight?"

My response: "Not with that attitude."

I’m not sure I was helpful to every caller. For instance, the Korean college student who I convinced should quit medical school in order to pursue a songwriting career probably doesn’t want to meet me in a dark alley.

But there are some I am sure I helped, such as the lady who called hoping I could speak to her dead boyfriend who had been killed by the mob.

"Does he have a message for me?"

"Yes, he wants you to get on with your life."

"That sounds like something he would say."

Then there was the woman from Kansas City, who benefited from my sage advice, when she asked, "Does the fact my husband wants me to take it up the butt mean that he’s gay?"

"No, it means he wants to take it up your butt."

"Thanks!"

I got pretty good at convincing my callers of my psychic abilities, but, frankly, I didn’t always bring my A-game to the table. A few times, I drank beers during my psychic sessions and fell asleep while the person was talking.

"Hey, wake up! I’m not paying you to snore."

"Uh, I’m not snoring. I’m meditating."

"I’ve meditated before and it doesn’t sound like a snore."

"Uh, my guru gave me a mantra that sounds like `ZZZZZZZZ.’"

After 11 months of late nights, and shortened date nights, I turned in my turban and have had few regrets since then. Especially when I found out the company I worked for was sending callers threatening messages telling them someone was out to get them and needed to call right away to find out who it was.

However, there were a few moments when I wondered if my readings were ever accurate.

In one case, I got my chance to find out – thanks to the Bodeans, the band that sang the theme to the now-canceled Fox series, "Party Of Five."

Here’s how it happened: I had one call from a skeptical college student who won a contest that gave him the chance to make a video starring the Bodeans, whose lead singer, Sammy Llanas, was on the record for hating videos.

Since I knew about the band, I psychically keyed on the lead singer making the video shoot difficult and the caller was blown away.

I offered tips to make the video better and satisfy the demands of the shoot. The caller was grateful.

Flash forward a few years and I am now interviewing Llanas about the Bodeans, and, towards the end of the call, I told him about my former gig, particularly the caller who won the chance to shoot the video.

I told Llanas about my suggestions and asked if any of it helped.

"NO! The video still sucked!"