They called again; and once more I listened.
Should I tell you what their new story is? You probably have your own solicitations that you try to ignore, while also wondering whether their stories may actually be true. In either case, you can always ignore my personal susceptibility and return to your own.
My personal dilemma won’t make much sense unless I say a few words about why I’m receiving these calls. So here is my embarrassing situation.
I agreed to a marketing campaign with a publishing company after they published-republished the five books I have written over the past 30 years. Since making that agreement, I have continued to receive requests for more money—each apparently needed in order to realize the benefits of my existing investment.
The previous request for money was for a website that had been created but lacked implementation space and a domain name—so I agreed to purchase those. After all, would I not purchase tires for an automobile, already mostly paid for, after learning that the vehicle which I have purchased only comes with four empty wheel hubs?
Two trusted counselors kept telling me: “This seems like a scam.” But when I kept going with one more investment, what I felt I heard from them was, “Your ability to keep trusting the world is impressive. I would not want you to lose that.”
Now I’m being asked to set up an escrow account so the website can do its own billing for book purchases. After a night’s sleep, I am finally ready to say “No More!”. Even if it means that all the previous investment, in this land of drought and illusion that I have somehow stumbled into, dies on the vine for the lack of one more can of water.
What does this say about how I build up my world? What does it mean that I have a relationship with an organization that keeps telling me I need to sustain the momentum I have started by taking one more step on this journey—and if I don’t, I will be left standing empty-handed by the side of the road?
“Oh, and you should probably have a carbonator installed under the hood before you try to drive off the lot.”
But–even after several downpayments–I am free to walk away with no shiny red sports car. Everything that I most value in life will not end. I may even discover a dusty bicycle behind a filing cabinet in my garage that I’d forgotten was there.
With a little air in the tires and a drop of oil on the chain, who will stop me from coasting under the ponderosa pines, rejoicing in the late spring breezes?