The saga continues...

It turns out that Bernice does indeed have a cell phone. Of course she does. She's 15. A 15 year old without a cell phone is like a child without shoes.

Mrs. Helen P. McGookin called Bernice today. She was just hanging out with her boyfriend. At 11 am.

The conversation went a little something like this:

(ring, ring, ring)

B: hello?
Mrs. McG: hey Bernice, it's your Aunt Helen.
B: oh, hi..?
Mrs. McG: I hope you don't think I'm stalking you, but I got your number from your grandma...
B: oh, that's ok (giggle)
Mrs. McG: remember when we last saw each other, we talked about getting together and hanging out?
B: yeah...
Mrs. McG: well I feel bad because I haven't contacted you and we talked about it forever ago.
B: oh, that's ok.
Mrs. McG: no it's not. I said I was going to do it and I didn't, so I'm sorry. I wanted to apologize for not contacting you.
B: oh, that's no big deal (giggle)
Mrs. McG: I was wondering if you were still interested, you know, in hanging out sometime?
B: sure, that would be fun...
Mrs. McG: when is good for you?
B: um, pretty much any day...
Mrs. McG: any day? Don't you have to go to school?
B: (giggle) well, I got kicked out... (giggle)
Mrs. McG: You got kicked out? In-ter-es-ting... you'll have to tell me all about it when we see each other...
B: oh, I will... (giggle)
Mrs. McG: are you going to go back?
B: yeah, I'm probably going to go to summer school, then go back next year (giggle)
Mrs. McG: Oooo-kay, great. What do you like to do?
B: oh, I don't know...
Mrs. McG: lemme see, when I was 15, I liked to sleep in late, hang out at the mall and talk on the phone, how's that sound?
B: (giggle) that sounds about right.
Mrs. McG: do you want to go to the mall and do some shopping?
B: sure
Mrs. McG: where do you want to go? How about Flatirons?
B: I haven't been there in a long time...
Mrs. McG: is it not, you know, not, "cool" to go there?
B: I don't know...
Mrs. McG: well, if it's not cool to go there, you wouldn't risk running into any of your friends, you know, with me. I know how horrible that can be...
B: (giggle) that's ok.
Mrs. McG: why don't we have lunch on Saturday? How's that work for you?
B: OK
Mrs. McG: I'll come pick you up at home at noon. OK?
B: OK
Mrs. McG: great, I'll see you on Saturday.

Bernice is going to tell Mrs. McGookin all about the kicking out of school when then have lunch on Saturday. Then, Mrs. McG will remind Bernice how she is effing up her life. In a sweet, yet uniquely sarcastic manner. I think that Bernice is a little "afraid" of Mrs. Helen P. McGookin. She was the only person in her whole life that didn't let her get away with anything. Mr. McGookin thinks that Bernice appreciates it, even if she doesn't know it.

And, then...!? Mrs. McGookin had the gall to ask me if I would offer Bernice a job. A fricken job?! To that irresponsible freak? Um, alright. I'm desperate. And cheap.

See, I need someone to do data entry for me. Just once a month or so. I have stacks and stacks of business cards that need to be entered in my CMS, and then put in my roladex. Stacks! They are taking over my "to be entered" pile and spreading across the desk.

It would be silly for me to do it, because when you think about how much I'm worth an hour, I could pay Bernice for dozens! of hours before it would cost an hour of my time. I could use that time to focus on prospecting, or billable hours, or napping, etc.

But I'm getting ahead of myself. Mrs. Helen P. McGookin needs to first have lunch with Bernice, feel her out, then take it from there. Ready..? exhale... ahhhh.