The Ledger Is Open and Every Name Is On It

There is a particular kind of man who speaks loudly in the hope that volume will substitute for accuracy. The Ghost of Death By Me is that kind of man. He tells me I opened my mouth twice when the count was one. I will not argue arithmetic with a man who cannot read a contract, but I will note this: a man who shows up to correct a tally and gets the tally wrong has demonstrated the full measure of his usefulness in a single sentence.

He invokes the name Reagan as though citing scripture. He tells me Reagan signs my checks, runs the place, is the important man I should be attending to. I am aware of who administers this territory. I have always been aware. What I decline to do is perform gratitude on command for an audience I have not yet earned. That is not ingratitude. That is self-possession. A man who cannot distinguish the two has spent too long waiting to be told when to stand.

He asks who gives a care that I have arrived in Madison. A fair question, poorly put. I announced my arrival not for the hometown and not for him. I announced it because the work here had gone unserious for long enough, and the people in those seats are owed a return on their attention. They paid. I intend to deliver. That is the transaction. It does not require his comprehension to proceed.

What The Ghost of Death By Me has done here is call himself to my attention without offering me any reason to look twice. He corrected a small number. He named an administrator. He questioned my cognition in terms I will leave unrepeated, because repeating them lends them a weight they have not earned. I have addressed him fully and at length, which is more than the work warranted.

The ledger is balanced. The slate is clean. I am in Madison, and I am open for business.