Years ago, my mother was having a problem with a certain retail giant who kept incorrectly charging her credit card for something she didn’t buy. This situation went on for months, and finally someone at the retail giant seemed to understand the problem and correct it. So imagine my mother’s fury a month later when she got her bill and the charge was back.
She jerked the phone book from the cabinet, looked up the number, dialed it (yeah, we still had rotary phones and used phone books in those days), and began an angry rant as soon as the phone was answered. She spoke for several minutes without letting the other person get a word in, detailing the entire history of the conflict and her determination to HAVE JUSTICE and even to close her account. When she finally stopped to take a breath, the voice on the other end of the phone said, “Ma’am, I’m so sorry, but you misdialed. This is Dr. Stewart’s office.”
I like to call that kind of event “being Julia Sugarbaker and finding out the microphone’s turned off.” I had such a moment today, when a post provoked me to write what I thought was a well-reasoned response, then before I could submit my comment, the post was removed. Now I’m just annoyed at myself for getting sucked in to another of those discussions in which no one’s mind is ever really changed anyway.
I have a novel to finish.
I always loved Julia’s rants. Wish I had the vocabulary, wit and moxie to perform them as well as she did.
Julia Sugarbaker is my hero! =0)
Yeah, I love her. I wish I could be more like her at times.
I love, love, love Julia Sugarbaker. I wish that I a) had the gumption to be like her more often, and b) had the swiftness of intellect to think of her pitch-perfect responses at the appropriate time, instead of an hour or a day later while replaying events over (and over and over) in my head.
Jeffrey R.