charity punk

Well, it was just so smooth.

Man on phone, mellow voice: Good morning, are you X from Y Avenue?

I’m from the Z Hospital (where I had been last year) Oncology Unit and we’re doing a raffle for the kids – can I put you down for a book of 20 tickets – that’s $30. Are you still at Y Avenue? We take Visa, MasterCard, Amex. Take your number when you’re ready.

Okay, we’ll send it [the receipt] out to you next post.


Normally, I’d have killed the call by the fourth syllable but … maybe it was: the extenuating extension of the season; or the fella’s voice was so soothing; or, mostly maybe, it was the umimpeachably good cause from an institution I had depended upon.

There must be a ring-bound, colour-tabbed, seasonally updated Manual of Guilt-Leverage which no doubt is written up in bullet points and that phone workers read off.

Maybe by the end of January my normal defences will be back up…

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