Well...that was pathetic.

I had my "interview with the reporter" yesterday, and the above title says it all. This woman called at the last minute to tell me that she was in another city completely 'on assignment', and we would have to do the interview over the phone. Splendid!! No cameras, no idle chit chat and staying at nearby strangers while she scribbles her notes down in front of me. I was quite pleased with the notion.

Heck - she even sent me the questions ahead of time in order to prepare a little something. And so I did - professionally phrased, quasi-articulate snippets of fluff for our little curious observer. I even found myself nervous about this - nervous! I can rise to my feet in front of a crowd anyday and adlib a speech with the best of them - and have had to in the past - mainly because no one is writing down what falls out of my mouth for documentation purposes. This is vastly different from that...actually....it's completely opposite of that.

So the time nears - I'm as close to what may pass for prepared as I'm going to get, and we begin!

Um...you know...when she dials into the call....nearly ten minutes late.

First question - "so you are the President of this thingie?" (I did say before that this would be doomed did I not? Maybe I should use those skills in Vegas or at least on a lotto ticket)

Me: "Well,...yes that's correct, I am"

Second question - "ooh - how did you do that?" (I stare in wide-eyed disbelief at the phone)

Now I ask myself that she must be asking how the initiative she's supposed to be reporting on actually was started, and praying that she is not actually asking me how I inadvertently found myself being appointed President of it. If it was to be the latter, my impulse was to remark:

“Well, I just crossed my fingers, closed my eyes and wished really really hard”

*rubbing my temples recalling this*

4 more questions were to follow, and she was sounding like she wanted to braid my hair while writing “BFF” on each others hands in smelly markers. *Gah*

Her final question for me was a pithy “what are your plans for the future?” in a tone that sounded much more akin to “what do you want to be when you grow up?”

In my head I was screaming “not you!"

Instead I replied with some polite remark, nearly through clenched teeth while contemplating the likelihood if I crammed the pen on my desk up my nose, would it be enough to put me out of my misery…

Her signoff was a “great thanks” and a click.

The entire episode - 3 minutes.

I wonder if anyone will notice me buying every copy of this pathetic clap-trap when the issue is printed just to watch them burn - you know, whatever, I’m just saying off hand, you know if it happens…maybe…

Excuse me while I go in search of a lighter – or two – or ten…