"I'm doublechecking this proposal to make sure I haven't overlooked any silly errors," Larry answered when I asked if we could finally go to lunch.

He was my officemate at a public relations firm in the City. We handled routine correspondance with stringers the agency paid to write slogans, trailers, and various types of eyecatchers, the clever copy that snagged eyeballs long enough to sell something unessential. We kept track of contracts, due dates, and other stuff for a few hundred wordsmiths.

"This guy is practically a legend," Larry said. "If he thinks I can't write a business letter, he's liable to blow us off. He'd make me into a joke. Nobody would hire me to write copy on toilet paper wrapping."

Larry wanted to be an ad man.

"Yeah. Yeah," I sighed. "You want me to bring you something back?"

I was nice to Larry because I figured, Why not? All day we were crammed into a little ten-by-ten room, 2 desks and 4 file cabinets, one floor above the main office and twelve floors above the street. Every day our boss gave us a roster of stringer contracts to check. We spent all day keeping our morale up while we pulled files and filled out form letters. The boss metered our stationary. "Gotta watch expenses," he reminded us everytime we hiked downstairs to ask for envelopes. The job wasn't exactly rocket science. But I wasn't alone. At least Larry and I were in the same boat. Two ten minute breaks and a fifty minute lunch hour every day. If our butts weren't in the chairs otherwise we were taking a chance. The boss kept a tally of times he didn't find us at our desks when we were supposed to be working. Three strikes and we would be out.

"Do you know who this guy is?" Larry muttered as he scanned the letter. "He's the one that pumped Pacific Answering Machine sales three hundred fifty percent. They included his suggested messages on the sample tape they sold with their recorders. People went nuts. Some breathy broad and a game show host recorded this guy's stuff. The tape became an underground hit. People bought the machine just to get that miniature tape cartridge. Don't you have one?"

"Larry," I can barely pay my phone bill, let alone buy electronic consumer items for my posh studio above a quick oil change bar and taquito store in the Mission. "What are you talking about?"

"Answering messages. This guy writes 'em. Oh, man, are you out of it. Don't you know his stuff?"

"Sorry to be so unhip. My spiritual road winds past different vistas. Give me an example."

"Oh, like, After jumping into blackness and pulling the ripcord, swinging here in space, I listen to the lines snap and the silk flap above me. As I plunge into danger I think only of you. Give me hope. Leave a message. Let me hear your voice if I ever make it home again."

"You gotta be kidding."

"No. And this one. After everyone has gone, and the stairs have been sealed; After the last lights are turned off and the doors bolted; After a hellish day when I finally stop asking myself if the firefights are gaining us ground, if the dead and dying are too much to sacrifice, I'll have time to listen to your voice. Please leave a message. It may be the last I'll ever hear from you."

"You gotta be shittin' me. He wrote that and people buy it? How do you remember all that anyway?"

"I play the tape at parties."

"You play a suggested answering message tape at parties?"

"Yeah. I take my answering machine with me. The tapes won't play on anything else. I don't know how they do that. The one I love is the one where he imitates a sexy voice, Oh, darling, at last you've called, but I can't answer the phone. I had to go. They made me go. But I'll come back. I promise. No matter what. I'll come back and find your message. I love to hear your voice. Leave me a message. Oh, darling, after the beep. I use that one for an ice breaker."

"You use... Larry, have you thought much about the essential purpose of living? Maybe a little quiet time in Nature. Consumerism may be winning here."

"And here's another one, The train is pulling away. I have to run. But don't leave me with nothing. Don't hang up. I'm gone, but not forever. After slaying dragons all day in the asphalt jungle, I'll make it back. There'll be a reason to come home. I know I'll find a message from you. Let me hear you voice. Or how about, I've bought this answering machine just so hope and happiness will find me at day's end when I finally sit down with my pencil, notepad, and martini to jot down the phone number you'll leave for me to call. How can I reach you? Leave a message. Let me hear your voice."

"You've really memorized all these? You're not making this up, are you?"

"No, man. This guy writes 'em. The message maestro. The sultan of suggestion."

"The King of Crap. How did the agency find this guy?"

"He left a voice mail message for the boss."

"What did the message say?"

"The evening air is thick with insect hum. The last bombers have disappeared on their night's mission to save us from evil. After I knock down this last belt, I'll pull my pack on and shoulder my gun. I'm going to help make the sweet dream of freedom a reality. I hope I make it back. And if I do, before I collapse on the bed, I'll look for the little blinking light on my nightstand that tells me you've left a message. Wait for the beep."

"That sold the boss?"

"Not quite. The boss called and got his answering machine. Can you believe? That clinched it. I heard the message was something like, Nights I've waited, long nights. No one in the room but me. The flashing neon sign across the street was my only company after the sidewalks went dead. Still I waited. I kept a bottle on the nightstand. I tossed one back every now and then. It kept me warm like you used to do, when we were together. I didn't worry. If I finished the bottle and passed out waiting for you to call, I knew you'ld leave a message anyway."

"I know you made that up."

"It was a first draft, a freeby. Anyway, the boss gave him a year contract. They taped the guy's stuff and conned Pacific Answering into an exclusive. After that, history. Haven't you seen the ads on TV?"

"I don't have a TV."

"How can you be in the advertising business, for Crissake, and not have a TV?"

"Larry. Let's go eat. I'm not in the advertising business. I'm in the office clerk business."

"Don't you want to move up in life? You gotta have aspirations like I got. There are finer things, you know."

"Yes, I know. Like Now Yuk Choi Sum Chow Fun. Come on. We can get take out and eat it here."

"Ok. Ok. Geez. No ambition."

---

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