So, last night after work, I went down to the local Obama headquarters to purchase some buttons, make a donation and inquire about their need for office drones.
I was immediately introduced to “Robert,” a tall, obviously overworked young man who, when I offered to help with data entry work, made me feel as though I had just made him the sole recipient of Paulson’s Wall Street bailout plan. He didn’t exactly genuflect, but that’s only because he didn’t have the time. “Can you start right now?” was his plea.
Don’t you love it? I mean, I can hardly remember a time when I was young enough and free enough to move through my days without the aid of a date book to rein-in impetuous, unscheduled, spur-of-the-moment availability for anything. It pained me to go all “adult” on him and explain that I was totally scheduled up until the weekend.
But, then, he did the sweetest thing. From his pocket he pulled out a little slip of paper with a tiny Dick Cheney face photocopied on it, with Dick’s lips outlined in bright red ink. “Lipstick on a pig,” he whispered conspiratorially, and shoved it back into his pocket.
Yeah, I’m in. Can’t wait for Saturday.