One of the problems with writing columns, or running a blog, or anything you do like that is you are never really sure whether you actually reach an audience or a readership or anything else for that matter. So instead, you end up writing to air, or in the case of newspapers to fill a certain number of column inches. By that I mean, it’s like a one-sided argument, you know the ones most married men have with their wives.
Even at home when I go off on some tangent or other, at least I have a wife who can try to bring me back to reality. Outside of that, there isn’t much—the dogs always seem to like almost anything I say, as long as a biscuit is involved. This sort of brings up a whole other idea about how to assess readership and how to see what people are thinking about the stuff I am pushing through the keyboard. Still, a man’s gotta do what a man’s getting paid for, so here we go, right?
All of that came to a screeching halt this week when I got this message on the cell phone. Most of the time messages on my cell phone consist of things like, “Hey Dad, how’s it going? Can you put some money in my account? I need gas.” Or better still, “can you pick up the dry cleaning on your way home?”
But this time, the message was different. It was more in line with the kinds of messages I used to leave people when I was actually reporting news for another local newspaper that will go nameless to protect the innocent and those not so innocent.
The message was simple: “Hello, I hope this is the right, David Breidenbach. My name is Dan Rutenik and I work for 60 Minutes.”
Already I was in shock. Finally, I knew my column was hitting home. Somehow, my wit had reached the heights and even those at the top of the heap were trying to reach me, the people at 60 Minutes. I just knew that the likes Mike Bradley and crew had come across my column for something witty I’d written or something that I wasn’t even aware of.
That’s when it hit me, this was 60 minutes calling. They may not be calling me about my writing. No indeed, they may be calling me about something deep and dark from my past, like failing to pick up behind my dogs when I take them out for a walk, or leaving my child at the day care center too long. I just knew I was in hot water for something.
So, with a bit of trepidation, I called Dan back at his 212 area code phone number. At first, I just got his answering machine. Phew, I thought, didn’t have to talk to him yet.
But the problem with answering machines and phones in this day and age is that they keep a running log of missed phone calls. Dan was on the line with me in a matter of minutes.
“Is this David Breidenbach?” he asked.
Sure, it’s me, I said. What can I do for you.
“Well, I was hoping I got the right David Breidenbach. I work for 60 minutes and we’re working on a story about his company in Alexandria,” Dan said.
We talked for a few more minutes, as I explained that where I live in Colonial Heights is a two-hour drive from Alexandria on a good day with no traffic. He explained he was trying to find this guy so he could get some information about his company. At that point, I opted to cut short our conversation, because I didn’t want him to get any other ideas about me.
But before I hung up, I asked him if perhaps he had seen my column? He started to stammer a bit like he wanted to hang up but didn’t know how to without being rude.
It’s online, I blurted, spouting the URL for the Hopewell News.
The voice on the other end of the phone link started to stutter a bit at that.
You really ought to take a look at it, I know it would brighten your day, I said. I know how it is living in New York.
He said, “Uh uh…”
Hey, I even have it posted in a blog on BlogSpot, I said.
“I think I have another call,” Dan said, and I sensed him moving the handset toward the cradle.
Wait, I said, it’s called Butterside “click” Up, as he hung up his extension.
I guess I’ll have to wait to see if I make
No comments:
Post a Comment