I think anyone who has read the previous post would forgive me for stiffing my client completely on the deliverable we discussed, but in my view, reputation is paramount, and a deal’s a deal. So Winslow got what he ordered last Wednesday, and well before the deadline, too.
Senator Larry Craig’s Strategy Alternatives and Redemption Scenario Plan was finalized and went out the office door at 9:48 a.m. on Friday when my private secretary handed the package off to a bike messenger. It landed on Winslow’s desk at 10:22. At 10:27, my phone rang.
Winslow: Tom?
Tom: Yes, Winslow.
Winslow: I got to hand it to you, city boy, you’re a true professional.
Tom: Thanks, Winslow.
Winslow: I thought when you walked out on me last Wednesday, it was all over between us, and I’m just incredibly impressed that you came through for me anyway.
Tom: The only thing between us was a delivery order for consultation services, Winslow, and it won’t be over until you pay the invoice that arrived with the product.
Winslow: I hear you, partner. Hey, by the way, remember when you said on Wednesday that liberal moon-bat Barney Frank never got caught soliciting male prostitutes? Well, I looked it up, hombre, and he was.
Tom: I didn’t say he never did that – I said he doesn’t do that now. Some people can learn from their mistakes, Winslow. Did you notice that he got re-elected anyway?
Winslow: Yeah. Hmmm. Okay, I see what you mean. So he decided to face the music and…
Tom: I think they reprimanded him or something. Like you said yourself on Wednesday, what matters is how his constituents evaluate a guy after he’s been caught doing whatever he does – and the hypocrisy factor, as I pointed out.
Winslow: Uh-huh, sure.
Tom: And then there’s the “Frank Rule.”
Winslow: The what?
Tom: Maybe you should have done a bit more research. The Frank Rule states that closeted, gay-bashing politicians deserve what they get.
Winslow: That’s cold, Tom.
Tom: That’s politics, Winslow.
Winslow: I guess you’re right, hombre. Like Ronald Reagan said, “If you can’t stand the heat, get out of the kitchen.”
Tom: Harry Truman said that, Winslow.
Winslow: A Democrat said that?
Tom: Yep.
Winslow: Hmph. Ah, so, um, where the hell did you find that bike messenger? He was, I don’t know, real, ah, punctual… and you know, kind of impressive… don’t you think?
Tom: Look, Winslow, I don’t even have the slightest idea what he looks like, okay? My secretary called the three messenger services I use and placed an order with the one that promised the earliest delivery.
Winslow: I see. You know, Tom, we’re a lot more personal out West.
Tom: Meaning you hire your friends and relatives.
Winslow: Yeah. So I thought maybe you knew the guy…
Tom: Don’t know him from Adam’s off ox, Winslow.
Winslow: Oh. Well, thanks. I’ll get this to Larry right away.
Tom: Sure, Winslow, fast as the pony express.
Winslow: With fresh horses at every stop, partner, count on that. Tom… you sure you…
Tom: Goodbye, Winslow.
Winslow: Uh, yeah… Adios.
Of course my skin was crawling. But you can’t let that particular sensation bother you, not in this town. There was a freshly initialized econometric model of the international energy market waiting for me to run it and figure out what it means, and losing myself in a huge math problem proved to be just the respite my psyche required. Not that it lasted all that long, because, believe it or not, one of my private secretary’s duties is to watch television. No, not soap operas – C-SPAN, the cable news outlets and satellite broadcasts. She switches channels every ten minutes, monitoring the audio with an earpiece. Every morning, I prepare a list of issues and situations for her to track. It’s a two-column spreadsheet with the item names in one column and corresponding response instructions in the other. On Friday, as might be expected, one of those items was “Senator Larry Craig, R – Idaho” and at 11:34, she knocked on my door, opened it about halfway and said, “Mr. Collins, Senator Craig will resign tomorrow in Boise.” Ten seconds later my phone rang.
Winslow: Tom! There’s nothing in here about Larry resigning!
Tom: That’s because there aren’t any options, strategies, or alternatives under those circumstances.
Winslow: What!
Tom: Look, Winslow, if the Senate decides to hold a Holy Inquisition, we can deal with that. If the Democrats want to use him as a whipping boy, we can deal with that; and if any of the other twenty-three things addressed by that deliverable happen, we can deal with those. But a United States senator can resign any time he wants, Winslow, and if he does, there’s nothing I or anybody else can think of that will cause him to remain a member of that august legislative body.
Winslow: But do you know what this means? It means that after September, I won’t have job anymore!
Tom: Yes, I suppose so. Going back to Idaho, then? Rounding up steers on the high plains under the Big Sky back in God’s Country? Feeling the rippling buck of a young mustang stallion between your legs while riding the lone prairie?
Winslow: [Expletive] you, Collins! Idaho’s a boring pile of [expletive] full of [expletive] [expletive] [expletive] who don’t know their [expletive] from a hole in the ground!
Tom: Well, I guess you’d know, if anyone would.
Winslow: Come on, Tom, gimme a break. What can I do so I stay and work here?
Tom: You can start cruising the gay bars and combine your night life with business networking for a couple of months. Then, take out a small business loan…
Winslow: Not so fast! You know I write kinda slow…
Tom: Okay… Ready?
Winslow: Yeah, shoot.
Tom: Then take out a small business loan and open a Western theme gay leather shop in the U Street corridor.
Winslow: gay… leather… shop… U… Street… corridor. Okay, what’s the U Street corridor?
Tom: It’s DC’s latest gentrification zone. Way less expensive than Georgetown. Buy an abandoned building cheap – like any gentrification zone, the place is full of gay guys who can give you advice and help fixing it up so it looks like it did in 1870 or whatever – brick re-pointing, iron work restoration, the whole ball of wax. And make sure you get a good interior decorator for the inside, because if the way you did your office is any indication, the whole thing would be a disaster if you did it yourself.
Winslow: You really think so?
Tom: Absolutely. Find a business partner who has previous experience in the male leather trade, then make sure both of you tour the shops in Park City, Telluride, Aspen, Steamboat Springs, Rodeo Drive and Taos before you design your product line, so your gay Western leather styles don’t end up looking like something Gene Autry would wear, okay?
Winslow: Yeah, yeah, hold on there a minute… Steamboat Springs… Rodeo Drive… Taos… You’re hurtin’ my feelin’s, but I guess I needed that. Where will I live?
Tom: Over the shop. Believe me, you’ll find that arrangement to be very… convenient… for a number of reasons.
Winslow: Uh, well, thanks, Tom. Who’s Gene Autry?
Tom: You’re welcome. Gene Autry is to gay cowboys what Judy Garland is to gay actors – hopelessly outdated. And before you turn the lights out in that office on Capitol Hill, remember to pay my invoice.
Winslow: Don’t worry, the check’s in the mail.
Tom: Right.
Winslow: Uh, I… that is… we… ah… well, so long, partner.
Tom: And happy trails to you.