jianantonic | Dear God

I just had the funniest phone conversation EVer. Weird, freaky, nuts, but also funny. It's long. First of all, the guy called to make a payment, because he'd fallen behind on his maintenance fee payments, and we were going to turn him over to collections in a few days if he didn't make a payment. So he explains that he's been coming to Massanutten for 20 years (lie, he's been an owner since FEBRUARY. That's it. These people think that I can take their credit cards and clear their accounts yet I don't have access to their account information? Puhlease.) and that he's always been in good standing, but he's been in the hospital for seven months this year, and his cash flow was bad. But he's a millionaire, he says, it's just a cash flow problem. Right, ok. Seven months in the hospital can set you back, I understand that. But then he started with the weird shit.
"I've talked to leaders of Virginia, like Sen. Mark Warner (who is the GOVERNOR, not a senator), and they say that seven months would destroy them. Mark Warner said seven days out of work and he'd be broke." Riiiight.
Me: I see.
I'll use his initials - I'm not going to use his name because I'm seriously afraid this is the kind of guy who'd google himself to see every last word that's been written about him (you'll see why as I go on) but this is too good a conversation to friends-onlyify.
GB: You need some sort of program that gives discounts and works with people who get sick and can't pay their fees. It's not fair that you don't.
Me: (has this guy ever heard of supplemental insurance? Get sick and they pay all your bills until you're back to work. Dumbass.) Well, you'd really need to talk to a manager about that. I don't have any say in this issue.
GB: I already talked to a manager, and they weren't hearing me. I want you to do this.
Me: Believe me, sir, I understand where you're coming from, but I really am at the bottom of the ladder here. I'm not the one you need to talk to.
GB: Well I think your company discriminates against people who get sick. You're going to have a big lawsuit on your hands because of it.
Me: Again, not my hands, because I'm not in charge. Your contract states that you owe this amount every year. It's my job to collect it. If there's any problem in that process, I need to refer you to the department manager.
GB: No, listen. I'm going to be big, Meg. You write my name down. Mark it with a star. I'm going to be a world leader.
Me: mkay.
GB: See, I'm going to preach to Congress. I'm going to set them straight and turn this whole country around. It'll take three or four years, but remember my name. I'm going to do it, I'm not lying to you. All this is true.
Me: Okay. Are you ready to give me your credit card number?
GB: I'm a visionary. Do you know what that is?
Me: Yes.
GB: It's someone who sees the future through God's eyes. I'm a prophet, Meg. I've seen God's 20-year plan. God is paving the way for me to be a billionaire.
Me: Okay.
GB: I'm already a millionaire. See, I've got my own company and the government gives us contracts. I'm going to build a city. The government gave me a contract to clear an island in the Carribbean Island. It's a 20 billion dollar job. At first I thought God just wanted me to be an evangelist recording artist, but then I saw his vision. I didn't see the kidney stones in the vision, but I see that they were just to prepare me for the work.
(Are you paying attention. KIDNEY STONES are what allegedly kept him in the hospital for seven months. I'm thinking it wasn't a hospital, it was a mental institution, and it wasn't a kidney problem, it was schizophrenia.)
He goes on to tell me how he has all this money. He owns a company, and he's got so many million from that, so many million from this and that and everything else. I'm like, did this asshole call me just to make me feel shitty about my small salary, because this kind of evangelism is bullshit. Anyway...it goes on like this FOREVER. Twenty minutes, at least. FINALLY, he gives me his credit card information. Then he reads his company name off the card (which I don't need, he was just being pompous). It's a construction company. Is this guy telling me he owns a fucking construction company and doesn't have disability insurance? Again, PUHlease. The man was a lunatic. There's more to this conversation, but this is the abridged version, because it's time for me to go to work. But keep your eyes peeled for the name G u y B u r n e t t e. You can't google that, can you? That was his name. Fucking moron. But apparently, he's going to be huge.

Peace.