The Intelligence Estimate

I got a call from a cancer society yesterday asking me to donate money to help families meet their medical expenses.

Actually, let me back up. I didn't receive the call. The people who lived here before me did. People are constantly calling here looking for the Lewis family. This is not a new phenomenon. When Jen and I moved into our apartment in Des Moines we used to get calls for the Baker family. A lot of calls. They lasted for 3 years. Honestly, if you haven't got the Baker's new number after 3 years just take the hint! In a weird way we felt like a part of the Baker family. We were so proud when we heard that little Sarah graduated from Texas A&M. We wanted to call the Bakers and congratulate them but we knew who we'd get if we tried. But I digress....

The cancer society apologized for calling me Mr. Lewis and said they were calling everyone in the state anyway so they'd talk to me too. How considerate. "Our first choice isn't here, but you'll do."

I didn't know if I would donate or not. I'm usually a sucker for this crap. Dangle a dying kid or a displaced veteran in front of my checkbook and money starts disappearing faster than dignity at an open bar.

I have a lot of sympathy for the people working those phones. I work the phones in the box office and I know how hard it is just to deal with the public. For example, I got a call the other day that was particularly challenging. The guy wanted to ask a bunch of questions. No problem, I'm getting paid to answer them. But he wouldn't let me finish an answer before interrupting me to ask another (and often completely unrelated) question. This became more and more frustrating as the call droned on and he started asking me questions he had asked before...and never let me answer fully.

Then came this gem: "How do I get there?" Now, on the surface there is nothing peculiar about this question, but there is a vital piece of information missing.

Where are you coming from?

"Kenosha."

And how are going to be getting here?

"I don't know."

Are you driving?

"We can drive, how do we get there if we drive?"

Well, how will you be getting to the city?

"I don't know, is it easier if we take the train?"

There is an El stop about three blocks from the theater.

"What's that?"

The elevated train system in the city.

"How do we get to that?"

(Isn't this where we came in?) How are you coming into the city?

"The commuter train drops off downtown."

If you're taking the train downtown you'd want to....

"How do you get there from (Interstate Highways) 90/94?"

You'll get off at Addison. Follow the signs for Wrigley Field. You'll go past Wrigley Field...

"How do you spell that?"

Spell what?

"Addison."

A-D-D-I-S-O-N. You take that past Wrigley Field to the corner of Addison and Belmont.

"How do you spell...."

B-E-L-M-O-N-T

Apparently at this point the attempts to choke back my rage were beginning to fail because our wayward Wisconsinite counters with this: "Ok. I'm sorry to make you repeat things and spell stuff but I've had brain surgery and have terminal cancer."

You son of a bitch! That's right, a guy tells me his days on earth are numbered and my first reaction is "quit wasting my time." Did you see what he did there that was pure genius? That cancer thing is gold baby! Now he gets to be a jackass and I can't be mad at him. I'm adding that to the repertoire. "Sorry I'm being an ass, it's a disease."

By the same token, who decides discussing their medical history with a total stranger is a good idea? "Yes, I know I haven't paid my phone bill for three months, but I have here a biopsy report I want to read you about a mole I had removed."

So I decided not to donate to the cancer society. Not strictly because of this jerk from Kenosha...but not NOT because of him either. I can only hope that the Baker's are more generous when they get the call.

Labels: Addison, Anger, Belmont, Cancer, Charity Work, Kenosha, Phone, Theater, Wrigley Field