I just . . . You cut me off and never took any of my calls again—” “I’d rather talk to a bill collector,” I interrupted angrily. “At least I know it’d be an honest conversation.” Then—hand to heaven, I could not make this up—the man got a tear in his eye. A big ol’ crocodile tear that sat there and glimmered and trembled like a makeup artist had just run over with a bottle of glycerin in between film takes.
