Welcome to "The Gods Are Bored," toujours bleu in the Great Blue Northeast!
Guess who I just talked to for ten minutes? The Republican Central Committee!
Actually, the nice operator girl who introduced the call asked if I would be willing to listen to a recorded message by Congressman Tom Cole of Oklahoma. She said the message was created especially for small businesspeople such as me.
First I asked her who Tom Cole was, because his name didn't ring a bell. She said he was a Republican Congressman from Oklahoma.
EXHIBIT A: CONGRESSMAN TOM COLE
We at "The Gods Are Bored" know a good opportunity when we're offered one.
"Oh, yes, by all means, I would love to hear it," I purred.
On comes the tape, with the good Okie moron warning me that the Democrats are going to sink my small business with regulations, that they want to re-distribute wealth from those who have it to those who don't deserve it (or something like that), and all these horrible Democrats are led by Nancy Pelosi, the Wicked Witch of the West...
... Okay, so I was simultaneously misting my parrot Decibel with the garden hose. Never been much at multi-tasking. But I did get the gist.
The recording was two or three minutes long, and then a nice gentleman came on the telephone, telling me how he'd like to send me a certificate and that my small business would be a focus of political power, and even though I might not be able to come to Washington and meet the powerbrokers, they would be grateful to me nonetheless.
I let him go on and on and on. The entire pitch. The whole script.
Then I politely asked him how he'd gotten my name. He said I was on a list of prestigious small business owners.
I said that was very interesting, because my small business had been crushed by corporate greed. I added that I bleed liberal blue, that I love Nancy Pelosi and think she would make a wonderful president.
I said, "This is rich, you Republicans calling me for money. But I've enjoyed the conversation, because someone is paying for this call, so I've actually syphoned a little loot from your pockets."
To which he responded: "I'm willing to talk to you all day."
By that time Decibel the parrot looked nicely soaked, so I told the nice gentleman that I wouldn't vote Republican if Abraham Lincoln climbed out of his grave and ran for the nomination. I told him I hope he gets 10,000 small businesspeople such as myself with the same philosophy and predicted it might happen. Then I concluded with the observation that the Republican Party must be dredging the bottom of the channel for largesse because its big-time sponsors see the writing on the wall and are deserting for the Democrats like rats from a sinking ship.
Then I hung up. I'm a busy unemployed woman.
The only thing I wished I'd asked him was whether his phone solicitation job came with benefits, and whether he had a shop steward in case he was harrassed or something. Doggone it, that would have made the conversation lively indeed!
The moral of the story: Someone's paying for the call. Keep them on the line as long as you can hold your food in your stomach without barfing.