“Love debbie’s instagram page,” I start out our daily phone call enthusiastically today.
“She has an Instagram page?” the Doctor makes a great effort to pretend that he doesn’t know anything about this. He’s having me on, that’s obvious. “What’s on it? How do I see it too?”
“You told me about it,” I laugh at him. His acted ignorance didn’t have me fooled. “Her pottery of course!”
“I did? Oh that one,” the Doctor admits. “Yes lovely stuff, don’t you think? How are you doing? Are you home now?”
“Yes,” I smile at him. “Saw a client this morning. Then homeworking. What about you? I love how her page is coordinated. Looks very professional”
“Are you following her?” the Doctor asks me. “She posts nice stuff. She wants to sell in Belgium.”
“No I don’t follow her,” I retort. “That would be weird.”
“Why?” the Doctor asks dryly.
“Because of you,” I point out the obvious.
“Nonsense,” the Doctor rebuffs. “I follow Wim.”
“You told people I was stalking you,” I argument. “You don’t. Well stop it. He’s boring.”
“I have a different name,” the Doctor won’t be put off by my dissuasion.
“You do?” my curiosity has spiked instantly. “What’s your Instagram name? What name? Your name? My Instagram is just my name.”
“Fionablondiebarbiedoll,” the Doctor answers tongue in cheek.
“No such user,” I tell him as I have quickly double checked that. “And that’s offensive!”
“Can I use it?” the Doctor is much amused at my annoyance. “It’s cute.”
“What kind of pics will you post?” I want to know still not amused.
“Six pack pics,” the Doctor is visibly enjoying himself.
“No you can’t,” I answer with dangerous looking eyebrows.
“Why not?” the Doctor teases me.
“Because you are mocking me,” I pout.
“Teasing is better,” the Doctor soothes me.
“Thin line,” I point out. “But yes.”
“What exciting things are you planning this weekend?” the Doctor makes for a swift change of subject.
“Taking the au-pair to train station,” I inform him. “Grocery shopping. Hanging in the sofa. Watching the Handmaid’s Tale.”
“Where is the au-pair going?” the Doctor asks as curiosity killed the cat.
“Taking Winston to his tournament,” I go over my plans for the weekend. “She’s going to see friends in Sint-Niklaas.”
“Take your kids to the zoo,” the Doctor suggests.
“She’ll be back on Sunday,” I go on telling him. “A lion escaped in Planckendael.”
“Is she good company?” the Doctor wants to know. “See that’s exciting.”
“She is really nice,” I beam very pleased. “The zoo is for Sundays.”
“Lion was hungry,” the Doctor says in a silly mood.
“And Winston is at hockey on Sunday,” I am doing my best to wave off the zoo suggestion for reasons unknown. Maybe just because it is a suggestion and not my own idea. “Plus I go to Wim on Saturday evening and that messes up my Sunday. Lion got shot. Poor thing.”
“Yes,” the Doctor agrees. “Oh well you could go for a milkshake instead.”
“Yes,” I nod as this does sound plausible. “What are you doing this weekend?”
“I am baking tomorrow and on Sunday I have my conversation class,” the Doctor informs me.
“That sounds like fun,” I cheer as I am happy his projects are taking form. You see, the Doctor always has a plan.
“Tonight I will go for a stroll along the beach front,” the Doctor goes on filling my head with dreams. “It is very hot.”
“Lucky you,” I return back to him. “It is fresh here. Am taking the kids to the sea second week of July. Cadzand in Holland. Love it there”
“Yes indeed,” the Doctor nods knowingly. “All the young girls will be parading and showing off. Lovely to look at. Real eye candy.”
“Poop I guess so,” I say with a pang of jealousy. I want to be eye candy too! “Wonder if I ever get down to a decent weight.”
“Well you can compete as you are loosing weight nicely now,” the Doctor encourages me.
“Want to look like a MILF,” I admit my goal. “3,5 kg so far. Still loads to go.”
“Very good,” the Doctor cheers me on. “Keep going.”
“Another 4kg to go to be nice,” I am telling him my weight loss goals. “Another 9kg to be fabulous. Maybe then I will get more clients.”
“Almost half way there,” the Doctor winks back at me.
“Yes I am,” I am proud to say.
“No you will get long interviews and meetings,” the Doctor teases me.
“Poop,” is all I have to answer to that.
“Teach yourself to sell and how to convert staring at tour boobs into a contract,” the Doctor thinks out the practicalities to my plan for success.
“It used to be so easy,” I sigh. “But I had partners before and now I am alone.”
“Yes I guess so,” the Doctor shrugs.
“Yes,” I emphasize.
“What are you blogging about these days?” the Doctor wants to know.
“Our talks at Easter,” I inform him. “I am behind.”
“I see,” the Doctor eyes me. “Wondered why you have been so quite.”
“Well depressed a little,” I tell him. “And just no time really.”
“Yes I got that,” the Doctor nods gazing at me intently.
“Or enjoying doing little,” I admit that being lazy is something I, and the rest of humanity, are in fact programmed to do. “It is nice just being with the kids. Cooking and baking and playing.”
“Have you made up with Suzi?” the Doctor suddenly inquires.
“Taking Winston out to run and stuff,” I think fondly of our last run together. “No I haven’t made up with Suzi.”
“Good girl,” the Doctor smiles at me complacently.
“There is nothing to make up,” I retort annoyed. “No point.”
“Are you writing your sales pitch yet?” the Doctor wants to know about his whisper marketing idea.
“I am thinking about it,” I tell him as I notice there is a feeling of procrastination in my tone. “An introduction. I thought I could use my intro on Linkedin. I think that text is pretty good.”
“Once upon a time type intro?” the Doctor wants to know all the details. “Ok sounds good.”
I send him a link to my LinkedIn profile, very proud of myself and all my accomplishments listed there.
“Do you get any calls from that?” the Doctor pulls big eyes at me and this statement throws me off guard.
“No,” I answer completely knocked off my socks.
“I thought not,” the Doctor retorts disapprovingly. “I wonder if there is perhaps a better way. It’s on the right track for a whisper video though. What’s missing is the why factor.”
“Ok why?” I ask him with reluctance. Why didn’t I think of that?
“Time for tea and a cig,” the Doctor winks at me.
“Because you want to sell more,” I answer not wanting to let this go. “No going to pick up Winston just now.”
“Well if you can work out why your potential client needs you, you have a contract,” the Doctor tells me wisely.
“You can’t tell me?” I ask him in disbelief.
“I will think about it and send you some ideas to think about,” the Doctor promises. “Drive safe. Love to your kids. See you tomorrow or Sunday.”
“What about this article?” I send him an article I wrote some time ago.
Yes, I can just imagine myself whispering that into a video. Not.