The Betty Story

I was having trouble with a personal assistant (PA). In America, they don't mess around. It was this girl named Betty, alright? The gatekeeper. The line between me and a hot lead, and Euros. With Betty manning the receiver I was banging my head on a wall of "I can offer you her voicemail." Which Betty repeated with metronomic consistency in the most robotic, least engaging tone I've ever heard. No matter what I could think to say. Enter Raoul.

After 3 minutes Betty was apologizing to him.

I'm exposing myself much more than I'm comfortable with, when I bestow praise on this guy. As the only other person in the office sharing a Canadian passport we had a mutual and natural affinity, maybe because of our tolerance of extreme climate following life in Ontario, or more likely our proximate arrival dates. The near-constant exposure, has resulted in my becoming somewhat inured, or desensitized, to the numbers he puts up and perpetual trash he talks. All that said, he pulled out some Jedi mind tricks shit.

It didn't go well at first. Betty came out hard with her usual battery of "I can offer you her voicemail." I smiled sadistically to myself -But then, a fast flurry of questions were exchanged. Each posed with increasing intolerance for inefficiency. After what I thought was a losing battle, our friend Raoul had the PA unroll a red carpet on his way to the office of the decision maker. It took him five or six pointed questions in a query fueled quarrel that lasted a full few minutes. I expect to take heat, for such blatant praise. It's a testament to how legit the performance was, I guess.

Next time he offers his immediate assistance, or need to prove self-worth, I'll remember to tape it.

I guess the lesson is persistence prevails at every encounter, no matter how small. I would also probably be well-served to remain more astute