Several years ago I boasted that I had gotten marvelously good at talking to teenage girls.
I no longer reduced them to tears but always left them giddy and smiling. The circumstances involved were that as part of credit and collections efforts I frequently needed to call retailers who, in an effort to seem soft and cuddly to their demographic, frequently hired squeaky teenagers to staff customer and phone services.
Wee Jennifer with the tinkly giggle was a better choice than forty year-old Spike with the tattoos and piercings. Far less likely to reduce little children and old ladies to tears.
Or tantrums.
Getting through wee Jennifer to Bob who has the checkbook works better if wee Jennifer is not presently a mental wreck doubting her life choices. At her age, she isn't going to make wise decisions anyhow, but Bob knows that wrong choices might wreck his credit rating.
[Of course, sometimes Bob holds all the cards. That changes everything.]
So I am extremely amused by our government, which is staffed presently by chuckleheads and egomaniacs, thinking that bluster and tariffs are effective tools. We keep calling, and China keeps telling us he isn't in. No, he won't be in this week. At all. Maybe ever.
He in this case being Bob with the checkbook.
China's economy is still growing, ours is on a downward slope, the dollar is losing its value, and we're shedding friends and allies left and right. Whatever we can't sell in China because of their reciprocal tariffs, the Europeans and Japanese will ship to them, and we really can't buy very much because our tariffs on everyone but especially China are crippling the American consumer. As well as most of our industries.
Bob no está aquí, Gringo.
You call back later.
Click.
It looks like Mah and Pah Bumsuck in 'Bama or 'Sippi ain't gonna be able to buy toys for their screaming kiddiewinkies this Christmas. Or new clothes. Not even a festive dollar meal. And cousin Bubba will have to do without insulin for a few months.
My piles bleed for them. Truly.
Tinkly giggle.
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