Sunday, August 01, 2010


Nine o'clock on a Saturday morning was an odd time for my cell phone to ring. I didn't recognize the number but I flipped it open anyway.

It was the Candidate. At first I thought, "What the fuck are you doing calling me? You need to be seen with the troops."

The piece I did earlier in the week was being dropped to the whole of the voting district. It takes a lot of volunteers to drop the whole district and the Candidate, the one they are doing the favor for, needs to be seen.

But it's not my race. I don't even live in the district. I'm only in the game because of a mutual friend.

"Yeah, Tim. I just wanted to say thanks. I have a lot of volunteers dropping your piece, and I just wanted to say thanks. I couldn't have done it without you."

I was a little quiet. I didn't know what to say. The last that I heard was that he wanted some design changes so I didn't know where he was coming from, and I still thought he should be spending his time with the troops and not phoning to thank me. Me, I'm safe as house, until the campaign is over or until our mutual friend stops helping him.

I told him that he was welcome and that it wasn't a problem. I had sent the piece to the printers three days prior. I had already moved on, mostly. There were some things that did cross my mind to say but I didn't feel that it was the right time.

I wished him luck.

The next day I was with our mutual friend. I wanted to know if she knew anything about what motivated the Candidate to call me.

"The Candidate called my yesterday to thank me for the piece."

"Aww, that was nice of him."

"Yeah but last I heard he didn't like it; he wanted to change the inside."

"No. He likes it. But that was after he was told to trust our design instincts."

I still think someone put him up to calling me.

I think it was his mother.

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