Monday, August 19, 2002 6:46 PM

Anyone with an A.P.P qualifies for a P.P.M under the R.G.H.

It is perhaps time for us to take back the planet. I received, via the original mail the other day a flyer from a University here in the Pittsburgh area, which shall go unnamed but is on the bluff and very Catholic that communicated a message much like the one in the heading. The initials have been changed not to protect the innocent, but because I can’t possibly remember them.

At first I tossed it in the garbage can at my feet, but some warning, like the time I threw away my bank debit card because it had the name Omaha Something or other emblazoned on the envelope, thus masking it from me, the honest customer and letting every mail fraud thief, who were surely on to the bank’s game access, stopped me. Or the time I innocently threw out the bill for the company web site, which consequently went unpaid which caused our email accounts to lapse which caused problems when customers tried to reach us. We had purchased the email and web site from a local ISP (I know, more idiotic initials) who merely administered the account not billed it.

I have been, in short, forced to peruse junk mail.

Further I find that our answering service has the wisdom to be blocking their phone number so that they look the world like a telemarketing firm. (Which is what I suspect they do in the hours that they are not answering our calls.) Forcing this spawn of Italy to now answer all telemarketing calls. “Hello, Mr. Coluccio….” Hang up! Or worse the bastards that call me up and put me on hold. Would that they were within the reach of my clenched fist! On the other hand the violence that I would apply would make me feel guilty and small.

Is this the promise of technology? And is it any surprise that any such noble promise should be so easily subverted by the mean bean counting spirit of America. My guess is, No! At heart, as a species we are irritating money grubbing insects and I only mean this as the highest praise. Remember, tell Michael it was only business!

So, Duquesne, oops, I let the cat out of the bag, University sends an envelope to me! Not Dear Customer or Dear Resident or Dear Manager, but to my very name proposing that I could, for a fee of several hundred dollars, bone up on the A.P.P. And who might qualify for this boon? It says any C.P.M. with an eye toward the C.P.A.E.

I frankly go into a state that looks much like shock, because never have I been so foul of reality. I do not have a clue what this is all about. Further, as I look down paragraph after paragraph of the muddle of jargon and obfuscating initials, I become even more confused and befuddled. I feel like an infant who only has a cursory grasp of language. My grip on reality is pulverized. I am reduced to moving my index finger between my slobbering lips and making infant noises of joy. I actually drool!

Eventually, after I very careful reading, I discover that this day course has something to do with becoming a professional purchasing agent. Now I am truly horrified. I have been a purchasing agent for most of my business career. Sorry, Duquesne, if I felt it at all necessary, I could teach this course. Purchasing has now become a college level activity. I can only conclude that I have gone mad.

¼ Öéëüò åòôéí Üëëïò áìôïò It’s all Greek to me!