Imagine a knock on your door at 6:30 a.m. Or midnight. You answer. It’s a pizza delivery.
But you didn’t order a pizza. In fact, you’ve never heard of the joint whose faceless employee is standing on your front step holding open the box containing the largest pizza you’ve ever seen. She say’s the pizza is free. You ask who ordered it. She says she doesn’t know.
So the question is: do you accept delivery? The pizza is right there! You could eat it for the rest of your life!
Now imagine receiving pizza deliveries of personal agendas from people, most of whom you do not know, in exactly the same manner as the scenario described above. Do you accept them?
The last year has seen me receive delivery of dozens of personal agendas, some of them truly bizarre and delusional. I never thought my fellow Americans were so disturbed and disconnected. It’s one of the many things I’ve learned the past 12 months.
I’ve never delivered a personal agenda to anyone in my life. I was too busy implementing selfish ones for myself!
The agendas typically come through the internet. Text message ones appear at the oddest of times. A few agendas have arrived through the mail, or left on my doorstep. A couple came via straw man proxy. I’m still waiting for a drone delivery or an agenda written in the sky.
I would estimate half the deliveries are from people I know or used to know. The other half are from complete strangers. Half are well-written. The other half are not. Some are laborious. Most are curt. The gender split is 50/50.
Not one agenda has been delivered in person.
I have compiled a list of all the personal agendas delivered to me during the past year. It’s a remarkable catalog of American neuroses and busy bodies. It will make for fascinating reading if I ever choose to reveal the list in print. Perhaps in the book. Perhaps in a broadsheet. Not here.
I would like to say that I’ve never engaged with any of these agendas, but the temptation exists.
No doubt, a knock on the door from the pizza deliverer will come again.
Just wait for it…
There’s one now, a little tap. There’s another. It sounds like a battering ram!
I don’t get up from the couch. I don’t stop reading my crime novel.