Call me
The phone rang, and the magic window showed a call from the Ottawa region. I don’t know many people there. The caller was polite, and told me that he was calling on behalf of Stephen.
How near to a “once in a lifetime” moment is that? Someone calling, on behalf of the name that we all know (at least, here in Canada. Your mileage may vary beyond the border region). I wasted no time. I politely informed the caller that when Stephen wanted to talk with me, directly, I’d be only too pleased to receive the call.
I mean, I could then have his number, and I could call him any time things weren’t going right in my life. We could even arrange a “face 2 face”, although that hasn’t been working too well for the mayor. At least the chance to exchange a few polite words, a chance to see what the most power-hungry man in the country sounds like… that would be sublime.
I’ve had a certain ambivalence about the political set. I’ve never seen one. Not a prime minister. Not a premier. Not a mayor (other than that one time, through the restaurant of a window. And, yes, I was on the outside looking in). At some point, I’m going to start a round of “disbelief”. Maybe the powerful are akin to the Tooth Fairy, or St. Nick; a figment of the imagine process.
As for the young caller (I assume you were young, since you referred to me as Mister/Monsieur): pass along my request. I will accept a call from Stephen. Just to find out what a poster boy sounds like.
