I deal in dreamers and telephone screamers.

Anyway, I am out of town, sitting in the lobby of a chain hotel (perhaps one owned by followers of Joseph Smith, perhaps not) working the free wireless while waiting to meet with a client. I am listening to a consultant of some sort, working his mobile phone a couch or two away from me, his spiel already growing tiresome to me. I wonder how he does it -- how does he make pitch after pitch to apparently Not Receptive people without at some point snapping in rage, flinging his Samsung at the iron-framed mirror across from him?

I can't quite see him, but I can hear the voice -- the smoothly persuasive tones, the polite chuckle, the candid admission that he could make some concessions on pricing the warrants, and that maybe he could find some room on the margins of the cost centers.

I shake my head at the falseness, and I feel all smug and superior -- until I remember that he probably makes several multiples of my paycheck. And then I want to throw my BlackBerry at the wall.