... all's quiet on the mail front, still ...
July 10, 1999
6:38 a.m.
"Hi, this is [ insert some name ] at Providian. I need to check your records to make sure we've got them right." "Uh, sure," I mumbled into the phone. "Are you still employed?" "Well . . . uh . . . yeah. What's this about?" "I need this information so I can enroll you in our new credit protection plan." "I don't want a credit protection plan." "I just need to get your okay on this so I can enroll you in the plan so we can send you mail about it." "What does this have to do with updating my records?" "I need to update your records so I can enroll you in the plan. This will give you the first 30 days free, and you get--" "I'm sorry. Maybe I wasn't clear enough, but I don't want anything new on my credit card." "Can I send you some information on it?" "You can do what you want, I suppose. Just so long as you don't enroll me in any program." "Okay, I'll just need to enroll you so that I can send you the information." At this point, this is actually getting to be funny, you know? I mean, I was getting mad a second ago, but now I'm having a hard time not laughing at this woman. "No. Let me be very clear. I don't want to be enrolled in anything." "Don't worry, you'll get the first thirty days free--" "You do not have my authorization to enroll me in any program." "Okay, I just need to enroll you to receive--" "If you enroll me in the program, I will cancel my card." Silence. Finally. "Okay, sir. Thank you for your time."   Whenever I start thinking about how painful it can be to be a writer, I try to stop and look at things a bit differently. No matter how successful (read that to mean unsuccessful, too) I might be, I can always look at what I do with a great deal of pride. It is, after all, my best . . . and it's something my own. Regular readers know me. And they know I'm a production and commercial-minded writer. Yes, life is a journey, not a destination. But I judge myself in the end by success. All that said, when I'm done with a story, I know I've done something important, even if that importance is only recognized by myself. When I go to sleep at night, I know I'm doing something that is important to me. So, whenever things are going really bad, and I'm thinking life as a new writer is not all its cracked up to be, I vow to think about how hard it would have to be to be a telemarketer. And then everything else should be all right.  Daily Persistence is © Ron Collins |
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"It just goes to show you. It's always something." Gilda Radner |
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