Something truly bizarre struck me today. While on hold for a Capital One customer service representative, I was forced to listen to Billy Joel crooning out his popular 80’s ode to the blue-collar romantic – ‘Uptown Girl’.
What a fucking odd thing to have on a business line where most people are calling in to whine, bitch, and complain about their current credit cards monthly interest rates, available credit limit, transaction fees or finance charges?
Here I am, holding for my opportunity to give what-for, and I’m listening to a song from a guy whose face has permanently been frozen into that of a whipped puppy, waffling on about how he needs more money in his humdrum back street life so that he can continue impressing his uptown girl living in her white bread world?
Shit, apparently she’s not getting that tired of her high-class toys or all the presents from her uptown boys if I still have to call in to beg for further financing so that I can spend the money that I haven’t even made yet in order to impress her!
More correctly, I should just drop the prissy store-bought daddy’s princess off on the nearest street corner and instead take out some toothless downtown broad with runs in her nylons to ‘Jimmy’s Back Alley Bar & Grill’ for some cheapass 'chitlins n’ grits'...or something a bit more easy to finance with the meager pittance that I have left on my available credit?
I could then just leave a big tip in order to demonstrate that I’m a big spender at heart; even if my pathetic credit rating says different.