North Star Writers Group

Anybody who’s been in the business world for a number of years most likely has what they’d consider a business enemy or two. By enemy, I don’t necessarily mean of the husband-stealing variety, but just someone who – if given the chance – it might be fun to get back at. Maybe they stole a client from you. Maybe they stole an idea.

In my case, the culprit would be someone who I did a ton of work for, but who never paid me a dime, and then took all of his bank accounts overseas. He wasn’t above the law – they just couldn’t seem to catch him. Let’s call him Ray.

I thought of Ray yesterday. You see, I was listening to the radio and cleaning out my home office when I ran across Ray’s business card. As I was staring at it – and scowling no doubt – the old song “Jenny” by Tommy Tutone was playing.

Everybody knows that Jenny’s number is 867-5309. I’ll even admit to calling it with a group of girlfriends during some second grade slumber party. (Me and every other child who attended school in the early 80s). And everybody knows that the singer found Jenny’s number on the bathroom wall with the note: “For a good time call.”

Now, I am way too mature to take Ray’s business card, write “for a good time call” on it, and hang it in some seedy bathroom. But I have to admit, the whole situation got me to thinking. What could I do with this business card? How much fun could I have?

So, I came up with a few ideas. Please don’t try these at home. Because I wouldn’t. They were just fun to think about. But, if you do try them, please don’t tell the police or the FBI that you got the idea from this column.

First, I figured I could ram my Honda into some really nice car in the mall parking lot – like a BMW or a Mercedes. It wouldn’t matter if there were witnesses, because I plan to leave a number: Ray’s. I’ll just write on the back of his business card, “I waited for you to come out, but had to run. I’m sorry – please call me on Monday morning to get my insurance information.” I’ll tuck his card very nicely under the windshield wiper and leave the rest to the owner.

(Again, I feel the need to say that I’d never actually do these things. And neither should you.)

If I wasn’t up for going to the mall, I could take a couple of trips to some smaller shops and leave Ray’s business card in that little glass bowl they place for their weekly drawing. I don’t want him to win the drawing; I just want him added to their mailing list. Like the local strip joint’s. Or the spiritual bookstore place that sells all that stuff for self-healing and self-awareness. Someplace Ray would never go.

Even better would be to drop it off at some annoying salesperson’s office with a note that says, “call me.” My first thought – the local TruGreen Lawn Service. Those guys never give up. I know it because they call us every single week and we’ve asked them to stop several times. Imagine what they’ll do to Ray! If there’s no local TruGreen, I suppose any young and desperate insurance salesman or financial advisor would do.

Finally, I thought I might make copies of his card, and mail it with a letter to a few hundred folks, claiming that there’s a bank account somewhere in Indonesia that has a million dollars waiting for them. The point isn’t to generate phone calls to Ray this time, because everyone knows by now that this kind of thing is a scam. (If you don’t know that, please crawl out from under your rock and join us!)

So, rather than call Ray, they’ll probably turn him in to the police and FBI. I’ve watched enough CSI episodes to know not to leave any DNA on the letters – so of course, I’ll wear gloves and seal the envelopes with a wet sponge. Ray will, of course, go to jail because this time, the police might actually find him. It’s okay to let someone skate when they’ve only damaged one person, but they’d never let this fly.

Of course, revenge accomplishes nothing, is extremely immature and prevents me from getting on with life. So don’t worry, Ray. You have nothing to fear from me.

Unless I decide years from now that revenge is dish best served cold.

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This is Column # CD31. Request permission to publish here.