Lincoln Navigator Blues

It began – for me at least, with a phone message: Tiffany from the “Prize Fulfillment Center” calling to give me the good news. You have won a Lincoln Navigator or, her voice dipped dramatically here, one of our four top prizes. This is not, Tiffany stressed, telemarketing (which could be illegal) or a come-on for a time-share resort. I would not, Tiffany assured me, have to sign or join anything. This offer was, however, ‘time-sensitive’. So all right: I did not just roll of the turnip-truck. I didn’t just get off the ferry from Foolsville. I wasn’t born yesterday. I may be stupid but I’m not ignorant (or is it the other way around?) I’m not a hayseed, or a hick from French Lick, or a rube, or a boob, or a hockey puck or.. (fill in with your favorite expression here). I’m not your average idiot, right? I knew that Tiffany was simply spreading some carefully seasoned manure in the hopes that something green would sprout from some small patch of credulity. I knew that she lived in Bizarro World, where everything was the opposite: knew that despite her assertions to the contrary that it was telemarketing, would be about a time share or something like it, that I certainly would be asked to both sign and join something, and that of the four top prizes it was a million to one that I would end up with a so-called ‘free’ vacation. And yet, ‘Dear God forgive me’, I was interested. Well, maybe not exactly interested in Tiffany’s offer but rather, interested in this kind of offer, this type of business, and in the people who are so desperate in these sour economic times that they convince themselves that there is nothing wrong with doing a job that begins with deceit, passes through confusion, and quickly lands in the country of ‘hard-sell’ Interested because you see - as incredible as this may sound, just a few minutes before reviewing my phone messages I had received a call from the editor of the local paper asking me if I might be interested in a little investigative story. We’ve been getting calls, she explained, from Plymouth residents, complaining about the sales tactics of a local travel agency, by the name of Only Way to 2 Go Travel.. Was this an eerie coincidence? Were the stars aligned? Was there really a Lincoln Navigator with my name on it? Well, no, probably not. More likely the fact that I too had received the ‘good news’ indicated that the folks at Only Way2GoTravel were (naughty, naughty) working their way through the local phone book. So I called Tiffany back and, for the most part, she stuck to her story. I had won, definitely, one of their four top prizes: a Lincoln Navigator (or its cash equivalent), a 32” Flat Screen TV, $2500 cash, or 3-day two night vacation in Mexico or Las Vegas. But then, of course, it got a bit more complicated. I couldn’t come in alone: I had to come in with my spouse. We had to have an annual income of $50,000 or more. We also had to have a Major Credit card and show it to them when we arrived for our short 90-minute presentation on the ‘history’ of OnlyWay2GoTravel. I wondered why it would take 90 minutes to recount the history of this agency, since Tiffany also described the event I would attending as a ‘Grand-Opening Celebration’, the purpose of which, she explained, was to acquaint my wife and I with OnlyWay2GoTravel so that, in the future, we would consider allowing them to handle our travel arrangements. Tiffany reassured me that no one would try to take down any credit card numbers. And she told me again that ‘this was not telemarketing, not about time-share resorts’. So, with malice aforethought, I made arrangements to pick up my ‘winnings’. So okay, this story is short on drama. You will not be surprised to hear that I am not driving a 2010 Navigator. My main form of transportation is still my 1986 Camry. I didn’t even get a coupon good for two nights in a hotel room in Las Vegas. The truth is that my wife said, ‘no way’, when I tried to entice her into coming with me. I went anyway but they rejected me at the door. I did however see that the place was packed with prospective winners. Were you there? Did you get my Navigator? I know I should know better but I have this horrible feeling that if I been less cynical, a bit more naïve, a few inches taller, and drove maybe a 1999 Subaru, that they would have let me in anyway and that my winning entry code – which Tiffany said was MCG589, would really have been my lucky number. I know its illogical, but I am an American: I don’t trust the government, or the police, or even the guy at the McDonald’s take-out window, but I have a sneaking suspicion that a stranger on the telephone named Tiffany has my best interests at heart. Go figure!