Nancy and I
I received six emails from Nancy Pelosi yesterday, which I think is a little over the top since I hardly know her. I bumped into her at a Trader Joe’s three years ago and I remember she was holding a bag of tangerines. I smiled. She smiled. I recognized her; she did not recognize me. And I saw her at a Georgetown restaurant a while back. Her plate had a smidgeon of fish (sole?), a wedge of lemon, two sprigs of parsley and a marble-sized potato. I didn’t stare. I just noticed as I walked past her table.
Her emails are rarely good news. In fact, I’d be tempted to say Nancy is very much a pessimist. She worries a lot about the Democratic party, and my thought is if she spent less time online and more time working with Hill colleagues, she might have less to be concerned about.
So OK, I know she doesn’t write the emails herself, and that she doesn’t even vet them before they go out to millions of people like me. I know an army of online workers are flooding the internet with her thoughts and words and anxieties. It’s overkill.
I know the parties—all the parties—need money, because if there’s one thing political parties do well, it’s spend your money and mine. They know how to trigger your worst fears (“Trump says he will run in 2028!!!”) and they spend sleepless nights seeking ways to avoid my delete button. They try being pals (“Hey Thiery! A friend suggested we talk to you about…”) or more formal, (“Dear Mr. Sagnier: We are appealing to you because we know you are a listened-to…”) They seek my funds, my approval, and my vote. Judging from the number of surveys I receive, my opinion really matters to them. It’s quite flattering, and it’s about as effective as the daily scam calls to renew my car warranty.
I’m a little surprised the experts haven’t realized yelling “wolf” five times a day isn’t an effective way to grab my attention. In fact, it does the opposite and I get increasingly hostile. They remind me of the online weapon sellers. Shortly after I asked to be removed from one dealer’s mailing list, I was inundated by offers for tactical flashlights, firesticks, and cameo underwear.
This being said, I haven’t asked Nancy to take me off her mailing lists. There’s a part of me that still thinks one day I’ll get a message from her that’ll say something like, “Hey, want to grab some Ethiopian food tomorrow?” Or maybe, “If you’re at TJ, can you grab a bag of tangerines for me?”
Hope springs eternal.
Her emails are rarely good news. In fact, I’d be tempted to say Nancy is very much a pessimist. She worries a lot about the Democratic party, and my thought is if she spent less time online and more time working with Hill colleagues, she might have less to be concerned about.
So OK, I know she doesn’t write the emails herself, and that she doesn’t even vet them before they go out to millions of people like me. I know an army of online workers are flooding the internet with her thoughts and words and anxieties. It’s overkill.
I know the parties—all the parties—need money, because if there’s one thing political parties do well, it’s spend your money and mine. They know how to trigger your worst fears (“Trump says he will run in 2028!!!”) and they spend sleepless nights seeking ways to avoid my delete button. They try being pals (“Hey Thiery! A friend suggested we talk to you about…”) or more formal, (“Dear Mr. Sagnier: We are appealing to you because we know you are a listened-to…”) They seek my funds, my approval, and my vote. Judging from the number of surveys I receive, my opinion really matters to them. It’s quite flattering, and it’s about as effective as the daily scam calls to renew my car warranty.
I’m a little surprised the experts haven’t realized yelling “wolf” five times a day isn’t an effective way to grab my attention. In fact, it does the opposite and I get increasingly hostile. They remind me of the online weapon sellers. Shortly after I asked to be removed from one dealer’s mailing list, I was inundated by offers for tactical flashlights, firesticks, and cameo underwear.
This being said, I haven’t asked Nancy to take me off her mailing lists. There’s a part of me that still thinks one day I’ll get a message from her that’ll say something like, “Hey, want to grab some Ethiopian food tomorrow?” Or maybe, “If you’re at TJ, can you grab a bag of tangerines for me?”
Hope springs eternal.
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