So. In a splendid case of โverbing weirds language,โ what does it mean to โBob Watterlond {someone}.โ?
Bob Watterlond was an unassuming man. Somewhat stringy brown hair. Large glasses, with thick, square frames. Perhaps a little thick around the middle. A mustache much in favor today, but not in the late โ80s/early โ90s when I knew him.
Which was at the LA distributorship of Gallo Wine.
Bob was the Credit Manager. Among his duties, he would collect delinquent accounts.
His method was charmingly simple. Bob would call the liquor store (or restaurant) and go, โHello, Mrs. Kim. How are things today? The children are doing well? Great, great, glad to hear it. I was calling to remind you you owe Gallo Wine $167.47, and weโre not going to ship new product to you until you pay. OK, Mrs.Kim, hope you have a nice day.โ
And then heโd call the next day, sweet as could be.
And the next.
And the next.
I guess things went to a formal collection agency after 28 days. But heโd remind you if you didnโt pay before then, his hands were tied when it came to what happened afterwards.
Iโm reminded of all this because Iโm Bob Watterlond-ing someone right now, trying to get them to produce a document to me.
