“Hey, Klonsky. What can I get you?” said Marty.
“I have a taste for a Tokyo Black.”
“I’m on it,” replied my favorite bar tender.
“You’re looking unusually happy this evening,” offered Tony, who appeared not-at-all interested in the Bulls and Nets game that was flickering on the Red Line’s flat screen.
“Just got word that I was elected in a state-wide vote of union retirees to be a delegate to the union’s national convention in Atlanta.”
“When is it?” asked Marty.
“The week of July 4th.”
“July in Atlanta? That’s what you get when you win? What do you get if you lose? A week in Buffalo in January?”
“Yes. I know. But it’s good. I wasn’t supposed to be elected. I’m no union insider. Out of nine retired delegates that were elected, I was the only one who has never been elected as a retired delegate before. I’ve gone to almost every national convention as a local delegate for twenty years. But retirees have to run state-wide. Trust me. It wasn’t what the leadership wanted.”
“Why do they care?”
“It shows that my concerns have support among the rank-and-file. Particularly among the retired members. And particularly around the pension fight. The union president told me at last year’s convention that I was considered anti-union.”
“Considered by who? Or is it by whom?”
“People, she said.”
“That reminds me of my cousin Barbra.”
“Okay. You have a cousin Barbra. And she always says what?”
“He always says, ‘People who need people are the luckiest people in the world.'”
“He?”
Well. His Christian name is Christian. He’s a female impersonator at the Baton Show Lounge. But he looks more like Streisand than Streisand. Cousin Chris is an amazing talent.”
“Did you ever think of offering your family as a reality television show?”
“Actually, we did. Look for it on Bravo in the Fall.”
Fred Klonsky 