BlitzBlog

There are those times in life when some mundane act comes to symbolize a metaphor for a larger or more important time in one’s life. Sometimes we realize it when it’s happening; sometimes we see it only in hindsight.

It’d been almost two years since I’d left the large rug company where I’d toiled for almost 12 years. I’d enjoyed those 12 years, and for the most part, was happy with the job and especially my co-workers who I’d come to regard as friends. But my boss and I never really saw eye-to-eye, and eventually we were making each other so frustrated, well, it was time to move on.

I went to what I thought was a better position at a large lighting company, but it turned out to be disastrous. The job wasn’t what had been presented to me at my hiring, and virtually every person I met at the company was at their core, miserable. The physical plant of the place was miserable, and it was in a miserable neighborhood, in the shadow of the Triborough Bridge, next to the power plant, aside the fetid Harlem River. After 6 months, I too was miserable, and left.

I’ve been running my own company for the past year or so, and while it’s gotten off the ground, and shows signs of being successful, I’d avoided looking backward to my old industry. I think I did this out of an ego-centric need to try to succeed without all those people I’d met along the way. At some point, however, I realized that these people, and all that industry experience were an asset that could help my company succeed. I’d built up 12 years of knowledge. Of connections. Of Good Will. How foolish was I to think that couldn’t help?

So I booked a trip to the main rug convention/show of the year, in Atlanta. I’d spend 3 days re-connecting with industry folks who I’d hoped would remember me. Meeting new industry bigwigs whom I’d hoped would throw some work my way.

I spent three weeks before the show doing my due diligence on who’s who at other companies. I called friends within the industry for connections and phone numbers. I wound up with a fair amount of appointments, and many “come stop by’s.”  I was encouraged.

Having been to about 20+ of these shows, I was very familiar with the layout and general deal of the the place. 4 floors of permanent rug showrooms and one floor of temporary exhibit rug dealers. My “base of operations” was a company’s showroom on the fourth floor for whom a good friend of mine works, and I’d be welcome to drop my bag in their storage closet. My old company has one of the largest showrooms located in a prime spot directly at the top of the escalator on the third floor.

I got to the show and received my credentials. It was strange not wearing my usual engraved magnetic name tag from my old company. I’d gotten used to the routine of pulling it out of my travel kit and affixing it to my lapel, then turning to the right at the top of the third floor escalator and strolling into the showroom, wishing everyone a cheery good morning.

But here I was, with a mundane plastic show badge, and as the escalator rose to the third floor, I had to stop myself from turning right, and sheepishly turned left to continue my progress up toward the fourth floor.

It was at this point I had  one of those moments. I was literally and figuratively at a turning point. I sucked in a breath and slowly let it out as I rose up, and then stepped off into my new future.

Me:     Hello
AT&T:     Hello, this is AT&T…
Me:     Is this AT&T?
AT&T:     Yes, this is AT&T…
Me:     This is AT&T?
AT&T:     Yes This is AT&T…
Me:     Is this AT&T?
AT&T:     YES! This is AT&T, may I speak to Mr. Byron please?
Me:     May I ask who is calling?
AT&T:     This is AT&T.
Me:     OK, hold on.

At this point I put the phone down for a solid 5 minutes thinking that, surely,  this person would have hung up the phone. Much to my surprise, when I picked up  the receiver, they were still waiting.

Me:     Hello?
AT&T:     Is this Mr. Blintz?
Me:     May I ask who is calling please?
AT&T:     Yes this is AT&T…
Me:     Is this AT&T?
AT&T:     Yes this is AT&T…
Me:     This is AT&T?
AT&T:     Yes, is this Mr. Blit?
Me:     Yes, is this AT&T?
AT&T:     Yes sir.
Me:     The phone company?
AT&T:     Yes sir.
Me:     I thought you said this was AT&T.
AT&T:     Yes sir, we are a phone company.
Me:     I already have a phone.
AT&T:     We aren’t selling phones today Mr. Bliss.
Me:     Well whatever it is, I’m really not interested but thanks for calling.

When you are not interested in something, I don’t think you can express yourself any plainer than by saying “I’m really not interested”, but this lady was persistent.

AT&T:     Mr. Bitz we would like to offer you 10 cents a minute, 24 hours a day, 7 days a week, 365 days a year.

Now, I am sure she meant she was offering a “rate” of 10 cents a minute but she at no time used the word rate. I could clearly see that it was time to whip out  the trusty old calculator and do a little ciphering.

Me:     Now, that’s 10 cents a minute 24 hours a day?
AT&T:     (getting a little excited at this point by my interest) Yes sir that’s right! 24 hours a day!
Me:     7 days a week?
AT&T:     That’s right.
Me:     365 days a year?
AT&T:     Yes sir.
Me:     I am definitely interested in that! Wow!!! That’s amazing!
AT&T:     We think so!
Me:     That’s quite a sum of money!
AT&T:     Yes sir, it’s amazing how it ads up.
Me:     OK, so will you send me checks weekly, monthly or just one big one at the end of the year for the full $52,560, and if you send an annual check, can I get a cash advance?
AT&T:     Excuse me?
Me:     You know, the 10 cents a minute.
AT&T:     What are you talking about?
Me:     You said you’d give me 10 cents a minute, 24 hours a day, 7 days a week, 365  days a year.  That comes to $144 per day, $1008 per week and $52,560 per year. I’m just interested in knowing how you will be making payment.
AT&T:     Oh no sir I didn’t mean we’d be paying you. You pay us 10 cents a minute.
Me:     Wait a minute here!!! Didn’t you say you’d give me 10 cents a minute. Are you sure this is  AT&T?
AT&T:     Well, yes this is AT&T sir but……
Me:     But nothing, how do you figure that by saying that you’ll give me 10 cents a minute that I’ll give you 10 cents a minute? Is this some kind of subliminal telemarketing scheme? I’ve read about things like this in the Enquirer you know.  Don’t use your alien brainwashing techniques on me.
AT&T:     No sir we are offering 10 cents a minute for…..
Me:     THERE YOU GO AGAIN! Can I speak to a supervisor please!
AT&T:     Sir I don’t think that is necessary.
Me:     Sure! You say that now! What happens later?
AT&T:     What?
Me:     I insist on speaking to a supervisor!
AT&T:     Yes Mr. Biff. Please hold on.

So now AT&T has me on hold and my supper is getting cold. I begin to eat while I’m waiting for a supervisor. After a wait of a few minutes and while I have a mouth full of food

Supervisor:     Mr. Burt?
Me:     Yeth?
Supervisor:     I understand you are not quite understanding our 10 cents a minute  program.
Me:     Id thish Ath Teeth & Teeth?
Supervisor:     Yes sir, it sure is.

I had to swallow before I choked on my food. It was all I could do to suppress my laughter and I had to be careful not to produce a snort.

Me:     No, actually I was just waiting for someone to get back to me so that I could sign up for the plan.
Supervisor:     OK, no problem, I’ll transfer you back to the person who was helping you.
Me:     Thank you.

I was on hold once again and was getting really hungry. I needed to end this conversation.
Suddenly, there was an aggravated but polite voice at the other end of the phone.

AT&T:     Hello Mr. Butt, I understand that you are interested in signing up for our plan?
Me:     Do you have that friends and family thing because you can never have enough  friends and I’m an only child and I’d really like to have a little brother…
AT&T:     (click)

Imagine if you will… the leader of the Fifth Alien Invader force speaking to the Alien Commander in Chief…

“They’re made out of meat.”

“Meat?”

“Meat. They’re made out of meat.”

“Meat?”

“There’s no doubt about it. We picked several from different parts of the planet, took them aboard our recon vessels, probed them all the way through. They’re completely meat.”

“That’s impossible. What about the radio signals? The messages to the stars.”

“They use the radio waves to talk, but the signals don’t come from them.  The signals come from machines.”

“So who made the machines? That’s who we want to contact.”

“They made the machines. That’s what I’m trying to tell you. Meat made the machines.”

“That’s ridiculous! How can meat make a machine? You’re asking me to believe in sentient meat.”

“I’m not asking you, I’m telling you. These creatures are the only sentient race in the sector and they’re made out of meat.”

“Maybe they’re like the Orfolei. You know, a carbon-based intelligence that goes through a meat stage.”

“Nope. They’re born meat and they die meat. We studied them for several of their life spans, which didn’t take too long. Do you have any idea the life span of meat?”

“Spare me. Okay, maybe they’re only part meat. You know, like the Weddilei. A meat head with an electron plasma brain inside.”

“Nope. We thought of that, since they do have meat heads like the Weddilei. But I told you, we probed them. They’re meat all the way through.”

“No brain?”

“Oh, there is a brain all right. It’s just that the brain is made out of meat!”

“So… what does the thinking?”

“You’re not understanding, are you? The brain does the thinking. The meat.”

“Thinking meat! You’re asking me to believe in thinking meat!”

“Yes, thinking meat! Conscious meat! Loving meat. Dreaming meat. The meat is the whole deal! Are you getting the picture?”

“Omigod. You’re serious then. They’re made out of meat.”

“Finally, yes. They are indeed made out meat. And they’ve been trying to get in touch with us for almost a hundred of their years.”

“So what does the meat have in mind?”

“First it wants to talk to us. Then I imagine it wants to explore the universe, contact other sentients, swap ideas and information. The usual.”

“We’re supposed to talk to meat?”

“That’s the idea. That’s the message they’re sending out by radio. ‘Hello.  Anyone out there? Anyone home?’ That sort of thing.”

“They actually do talk, then. They use words, ideas, concepts?”

“Oh, yes. Except they do it with meat.”

“I thought you just told me they used radio.”

“They do, but what do you think is on the radio? Meat sounds. You know how when you slap or flap meat it makes a noise? They talk by flapping their meat at each other. They can even sing by squirting air through their meat.”

“Omigod. Singing meat. This is altogether too much. So what o you advise?”

“Officially or unofficially?”

“Both.”

“Officially, we are required to contact, welcome, and log in any and all sentient races or multibeings in the quadrant, without prejudice, fear, or favor. Unofficially, I advise that we erase the records and forget the whole thing.”

“I was hoping you would say that.”

“It seems harsh, but there is a limit. Do we really want to make contact with meat?”

“I agree one hundred percent. What’s there to say?” `Hello, meat. How’s it going?’ But will this work? How many planets are we dealing with here?”

“Just one. They can travel to other planets in special meat containers, but they can’t live on them. And being meat, they only travel through C space. Which limits them to the speed of light and makes the possibility of their ever making contact pretty slim. Infinitesimal, in fact.”

“So we just pretend there’s no one home in the universe.”

“That’s it.”

“Cruel. But you said it yourself, who wants to meet meat? And the ones who have been aboard our vessels, the ones you have probed? You’re sure they won’t remember?”

“They’ll be considered crackpots if they do. We went into their heads and smoothed out their meat so that we’re just a dream to them.”

“A dream to meat! How strangely appropriate, that we should be meat’s dream.”

“And we can mark this sector unoccupied.”

“Good.  Agreed, officially and unofficially. Case closed. Any others? Anyone interesting on that side of the galaxy?”

“Yes, a rather shy but sweet hydrogen core cluster intelligence in a class nine star in G445 zone. Was in contact two galactic rotation ago, wants to be friendly again.”

“They always come around.”

“And why not? Imagine how unbearably, how unutterably cold the universe would be if one were all alone.”

Editor’s Note:  I wish I could take entire credit for this post, but it’s based on something that was sent to me ages ago, I saved it and then recently edited and expanded it for posting. The source, alas, is long forgotten.

After years of enduring sporadic rockets fired from within Warren County borders, the state of New Jersey’s troops that had been massing along the Warren County border have begun advancing into the county.

New Jersey Foreign Minister Vito Degeuineo stated, “Over the past 3 years, since the settlers from Bergen and Passaic Counties left Warren County, Warren County government has  been allowing more and more powerful rockets into its territory. These rockets are reaching farther and farther into the New Jersey, some reaching as far as Wayne and Paterson. Imagine sitting in your home in Pines Lake and have a rocket, launched from Blairstown, explode in your neighborhood, destroying the lives of dozens of innocent victims.”

“It’s gotten out of hand. We’ve endured 3 years of rocket fire, with almost no response on our part. It used to be only those who lived near the Warren County border who had to endure this life-threatening situation. Now with the increase in firepower these Warren County militants have gotten their hands on- we’re quite sure they’re being smuggled in through tunnels from New York’s Sullivan County- that hundreds of thousands of New Jersey citizens are within reach of Warren County terrorists.”

Degeuineo added, “The government of Warren County has explicitly stated that the State of New Jersey has no fundamental right to even exist. They will not negotiate with us, and we have been force to blockade the county as best we can to prevent more and more dangerous weapons  that could be used against New Jersey to be brought into the county. We have to do something to end this cycle.”

A spokesperson for the Warren County government, Mike Reich, responses, “Let them come! We will surround these occupiers and wipe them from our midst! We will not stop until all New Jersey is a grand and glorious Warrenian State!”

New Jersey military has been flying missions to drop leaflets over Warren County, warning civilians to stay indoors and resist those who would use their neighborhoods as launching sites for rocket attacks, as this would definitely evoke a direct response from the New Jersey Air Force. New jersey Secretary of State Rhonda Lagonda  says, “We’re doing this to try to minimize civilian casualties amongst the Warren County population. We realize this gives a strategic advantage to the militants, but we have a moral obligation to try to conduct this war against only those who are engaging us directly. Unfortunately, the militants have no qualms about hiding themselves and their weapons caches in schools, churches and other public areas. When we are forced to make the choice between destroying these targets, we regret there will undoubtedly be civilian casualties, but our intent is to minimize this none-the-less.”

Officials from Delaware, Louisiana and Ontario have been meeting in closed-door sessions to try to mediate some sort of cease fire.