Anytime between January and August 1997, you may be been on the receiving end of a telephone call that went something like this: “Hi, I am a bill collector with the ABC Collection Agency. You owe $_________ on your ________ account. Your balance must be paid in full and is due in my office today. So, let’s take care of it now. Will you be paying by electronic check? Please pardon my pushiness that was just the script. I am required to read it. I really don’t care if you do or do not pay your bill. I am sure you have a very legitimate reason for not paying your bill that is none of my business. If you want, I can note that you are out of work, but I can guarantee that someone from my office will continue to call you. But, please don’t hang up on me. I need this job, so I don’t end up in collections like you. If you are talking to me, no one else from my company is jamming up your telephone lines. They are very annoying that way. But, I can’t complain. This is a surprisingly well-paying job that keeps the lights on while I pursue my freelance writing.
Unfortunately, most aspiring writers, unlike our actor/model counterparts, do not have the looks nor the bodies necessary to moonlight as exotic dancers. Trust me, I would much rather take off my clothes then do something as dirty and corrupt as bill collecting. Furthermore, I would gladly take some playful humiliation and jovial degradation over the misery and agony that is part of the writing life. Existence would be so much easier if I could collect dollar bills in a G-string. Instead of paying your credit card bill, you would put dollar bills in my G-string, right? Well, there is no need to answer my question. Thank you for listening to me. I have spent my required 60 seconds trying to convince you to pay your bill. Have a nice evening.
