Wednesday, June 22, 2005
Any Port in a Storm
Well, what a wake-up session we had today! You can read the report in the previous link at the Tests & Meds site. It involved yet another Mother of All Bowel Movements and a few other interesting developments.
Anyway, after I'd cleaned the bathroom then put away the clean-up stuff, the phone rang. From the Caller ID I, which indicated it was "Phx Newspapers" (a.k.a. The Arizona Republic), I knew it was the circulation department calling to solicit a subscription. We haven't subscribed to any newspapers for over a year, now, although this paper used to be one of the three to which we subscribed. Normally I'd let the call bounce into Voice Mail but I decided I needed to talk off some steam and this solicitor would be my audience. I picked up the phone.
I was right. Poor soul. As soon as he'd finished his spiel, which involved telling me that he'd "noticed" that we used to subscribe and perhaps he could convince me to re-up, I started in. I explained that I love newspapers. I used to be a journalist. I used to work in circulation and layout, as well. I used to subscribe to all kinds of papers. I used to keep a huge clipping file going back years. I even created a database for it on my computer. But, I continued, here's the problem: I take care of my 87 year old mother, now. I've been doing this for a long time. Some time over a year ago when her care became intense, I continued, I realized I was no longer reading the newspapers and stopped the subscriptions because, as it turned out, I was paying to recycle fresh newsprint. I'd love, I said, to read newspapers again but I have a feeling that isn't going to happen until my mother "passes on" [why disturb his day anymore than necessary with the word "dies"]. If I'm lucky, that won't be for a long time, but, you see, that means that I won't be subscribing to newspapers, either, for a long time.
Ever the savvy salesman, he suggested that perhaps I might be interested in their "Sunday Only Special". If nothing else, he said, I could use the coupons.
I laughed. "You know," I said, "my addiction to newspapers means that every once in awhile, if I happen to be at the grocery on a Sunday, I can't resist picking up the Sunday edition. But a week goes by, then two, and the paper is still sitting on the table unread, the coupons unclipped, and I finally stopped doing that. I'm sorry," I said, "I'd love to subscribe but it just isn't practical, right now."
The fellow sat quietly so long I thought he might have hung up on me.
"Hello," I said, testing the silence.
"I'm here," he said. "Wow. You have your hands full. I see what you mean. Well, good luck to you, and your mother. It sounds like you're taking good care of her. I'm sorry you can't subscribe to newspapers, anymore, but I understand."
I suddenly felt volumes better, thanked him for his understanding, and we disconnected from one another.
Cheap sympathy, I know, but, sometimes, the cheap stuff works.
Anyway, after I'd cleaned the bathroom then put away the clean-up stuff, the phone rang. From the Caller ID I, which indicated it was "Phx Newspapers" (a.k.a. The Arizona Republic), I knew it was the circulation department calling to solicit a subscription. We haven't subscribed to any newspapers for over a year, now, although this paper used to be one of the three to which we subscribed. Normally I'd let the call bounce into Voice Mail but I decided I needed to talk off some steam and this solicitor would be my audience. I picked up the phone.
I was right. Poor soul. As soon as he'd finished his spiel, which involved telling me that he'd "noticed" that we used to subscribe and perhaps he could convince me to re-up, I started in. I explained that I love newspapers. I used to be a journalist. I used to work in circulation and layout, as well. I used to subscribe to all kinds of papers. I used to keep a huge clipping file going back years. I even created a database for it on my computer. But, I continued, here's the problem: I take care of my 87 year old mother, now. I've been doing this for a long time. Some time over a year ago when her care became intense, I continued, I realized I was no longer reading the newspapers and stopped the subscriptions because, as it turned out, I was paying to recycle fresh newsprint. I'd love, I said, to read newspapers again but I have a feeling that isn't going to happen until my mother "passes on" [why disturb his day anymore than necessary with the word "dies"]. If I'm lucky, that won't be for a long time, but, you see, that means that I won't be subscribing to newspapers, either, for a long time.
Ever the savvy salesman, he suggested that perhaps I might be interested in their "Sunday Only Special". If nothing else, he said, I could use the coupons.
I laughed. "You know," I said, "my addiction to newspapers means that every once in awhile, if I happen to be at the grocery on a Sunday, I can't resist picking up the Sunday edition. But a week goes by, then two, and the paper is still sitting on the table unread, the coupons unclipped, and I finally stopped doing that. I'm sorry," I said, "I'd love to subscribe but it just isn't practical, right now."
The fellow sat quietly so long I thought he might have hung up on me.
"Hello," I said, testing the silence.
"I'm here," he said. "Wow. You have your hands full. I see what you mean. Well, good luck to you, and your mother. It sounds like you're taking good care of her. I'm sorry you can't subscribe to newspapers, anymore, but I understand."
I suddenly felt volumes better, thanked him for his understanding, and we disconnected from one another.
Cheap sympathy, I know, but, sometimes, the cheap stuff works.
