I am sitting at my desk at work, waiting for a phone call from a woman I’ve been courting. I have been doing so all day. She was supposed to call me last Friday, but she didn’t.
“Maybe she’s trapped in a car underwater, screaming out my name,” I told myself this morning, full of hope that she’d escape her watery grave, and call me today. But it’s almost 5 PM, and she hasn’t called.
Throughout the day, I did the things you do when you’re waiting for a call from a girl. I picked up the phone every five minutes to see if it was working. Then, I checked voicemail to make sure she didn’t call while I was testing the phone line. I walked away from my desk in hopes that if I played hard-to-get, she would call. I phoned my parents, and was nice to them, praying that God would reward me for being a good daughter.
Nothing worked. She didn’t call.
Before we get much farther into this story, I need to tell you about my job. I work for a Brand Name Company. If I told you the name, you would recognize it. You probably would get misty-eyed, and say something like, “I grew up on (insert Brand Name of Company here).” It’s the type of company that causes people to get sentimental and weepy.
For years, I worked as an editor for the Company. One day, I asked the President of the Company if he was losing weight, and he responded, “You’re promoted!” Now, my job is to secure multimillion-dollar partnerships with other Brand Name Companies.
This is not as difficult as it may seem. Brand Name Companies like to do business with other Brand Name Companies. They especially like to do business with my Company, because it is beloved by the American people.
The woman who promised to call works for a Brand Name Company that is not beloved. In fact, anyone who reads the financial pages knows that her Company is troubled, and is in no position to be jerking around a much-loved, much-admired Company like the one I work for.
She promised to call on Friday to tell me how many millions of dollars her troubled Company would give my beloved Company. But she never called.
Her Company reminds me of all the women who have rejected me over the years. Like the Company, they also are deeply-troubled. They, too, do not call when they are supposed to. They would steal old folks pensions and dump industrial waste into the environment if they could.
At the end of the day, the President of my Company asked me if I ever got the call. I put my head into my hands, and I whimpered. He told me that he still loved me, even if the stupid woman from the troubled Company doesn’t.
It was like having your Mom tell you she loves you after she learns your heart has been destroyed by a heartless girl you love more than life itself. It doesn’t make me feel better.
Just then, the phone rang. It was she! She told me that her Company would not pay us one red cent. Instead, she suggested that my Company pay her Company millions of dollars.
“Yes!” I said, as my heart throbbed. “Anything! I’m just so happy you called!”
Hey, I wrote a book! You can buy Dateland on Amazon.