Oh, that's me on the podium...too far...let's see...1989....1990...cough cough...damn dust...
AHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!! No..no...no...I went Back to the Future...good GOD....
Well...I guess I'll just have to talk about it.
Back in 1988...or thereabouts...maybe 1989...I was a student at CSULB. I was a music education major, really starting to get into the "biz" part of the pageantry arts by teaching and doing some writing, and still at the age of 22 living off of the generosity of my parents. I was SERIOUSLY SERIOUSLY yet immaturely very much in love with an at-the-time rather prominent guard person whom I seriously worshipped and was probably just dangerously obsessed with (looking back that is--at the time...hell...I was happy). ANYWAY...life was pretty good. But there was (as always) something underneath the surface that was sort of buggin'. I don't know how to put it, other than it felt like an itch you couldn't quite get to. An unsettling little dam in the babbling brook of life (ok Turner...knock off the creative imagery--you SUCK!).
And I happened to come across one of these "Personality Tests" somewhere. Thought...ahhh...sure...let's do it. So I took it, then mailed it in to some place that had the word DIANETICS in it. They said they'd call with the results. Great. "Ring ring, Hello Mr. Turner, yes, we've called the authorities. You're a freak." What did I care? I was flying high in life at the time with the exception of this undefined itch, and I thought it would be cool to see if I can see what makes "The H." tick.
Get the call from a super nice person...COME ON DOWN...boy we'd sure like to talk to you about your results...blah blah blah. Next thing I know, I'm sitting with a "counselor" in a building in Tustin with the sign in front CHURCH OF SCIENTOLOGY. I'm thinking...mmmmmkay...don't know what this is about but fine. I'm game.
2 hours later, after being hoodwinked, uhhhh, I mean, "counseled" and having my first "audit" session as a "teaser" as to what Scientology could "do for you", I left there a little....what's the word?....freaked out. Apparently it wasn't what I was looking for. No harm, no foul. At the time, I was living with my good friend and prominent drill writer (and a person I give credit to for pointing me in the right direction) Dave Weinberg. He ends up getting married and I, being shy and bashful as I am (cough), had no friends. So I ended up moving back with mom and dad. Fair enough. It was cool. About 4 months after living there, my phone rings. "Ring ring, hellllllllllllllllllllllllooooo Mr. Turner, did you forget about us?" It was the Church calling. Strange. Why, I didn't tell them I was moving. I didn't even tell them I was interested. As a matter of fact, I didn't even know they knew I existed. It was the Pasadena branch of the "church" wanting me to start my "audits". Ahhhhhhh. Yeah. About that...uhhhhh, thanks but no thanks. This is where the phone call got a little interesting.
Them: "Wait a second...you mean to tell me you don't want to learn how to be a better human?"
Me: "Uhhhh, except for the occasional tick in my eye and my penchant to eat too many cheeseburgers, I'm fairly happy and content."
Them: "But, it's the cheeseburgers we have to explore. Why do you eat so much?"
Me: "I'm thinking they taste good."
Them: "Noooooooo no no no...something happened in your past. We have to find out. And then we'll uncover so much more. And then you'll realize how much you actually SUCK AT BEING A HUMAN RIGHT NOW. SEE??? It's wonderful. Come on down."
Me: "Uhhhh...so...how did you get my number?"
Them: "It's not important. But just don't wear that blue shirt you have on right now."
ME: (looking around--IN MY HOUSE--for the camera) "You are freaking me out. Really though, I'm not interested."
THEM: (Tone getting a tad...how should I say...unfriendly??) "Oh come on, Ryan. You know you need us. Don't be scared."
--insert a note...remember in Back To The Future where Marty McFly gets called "yella" or "chicken", and it makes him all crazy? Yeah...you wanna bag on me, fine. Wanna insult me, great. Have at it. Wanna bring up how stupid I am? Whatever. I know this. BUT DON'T QUESTION MY BRAVERY. Seriously. It wigs my ass out. Back to the story--
ME: "I think hanging up now will be in my future...thanks for calling."
THEM: "something something blah blah blah blah but but but" click....boooooooooooo...dial tone.
So...in 1989, I believe I, Ryan H. Turner, was done with any further contact with the Church of Tom Cruise.
Fast forward to six months ago. In my mailbox, I start receiving, and I'm TRUTHFULLY not overexaggerating, a highly expensive almost DAILY bombardment of ads, brochures, letters, invitations and all asundry materials from the COS. Can I just type COS now for the love of all that is holy? Gee thanks...
I mean...A LOT OF STUFF. And these were ads and things for people that were OBVIOUSLY members of the church who were "high up" on their internal "ladder" towards becoming a superhuman (note: I had done some cursory research on the church once the internet exploded on the scene to see what exactly that church was all about...and it's pretty interesting...to say the least....ahem...cough). So I'm thinking to myself:
1. If they were trying to "wooo me back" to the church, the stuff they're sending is totally wrong (from a purely marketing standpoint). I mean, this was superadvanced classes and books and stuff...not for the new guys.
and....
2. If my name still appeared somewhere somehow in someway on some list that resurrected itself 20 years after the fact, then they must assume I've been around for 20 years and I'm already UP "the ladder". Follow me? Which then I thought...
3. These people are idiots.
But it was their dime, and there was nothing in the mailings that said "If you would like to stop receiving this crap, please call us at...". So--whatever. I just didn't open anything...threw it all away.
Fast forward to two weeks ago. I'm at work, The Warden at home. Phone rings. Warden answers. It's the COS, "looking for" Ryan H. Turner. My wife, already suspicious of me because of these mailings, thinking I'm going to turn into a disciple of Tom Cruise, calls me post haste at work. What are you going to do about this blah blah blah. Did my wife get a phone number to call the fine COS people back?
NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO.
Therefore, my answer to her was...
NOTHING. I'm going to do nothing. If they call again, I'll talk to them. Or I don't know...this is a stretch honey bumpkin schnookums. HOW ABOUT GETTING A PHONE NUMBER FOR ME?!?!?
Sheeeeeeeeeeeesh.
Then, the planets aligned themselves, and as I was struggling with a drill rewrite, the COS calls. Lo and behold, I'm home. So last week, I finally, after 20 years of not talking to them, speak to a VERY VERY nice young lady.
NICE LADY: "Soooooo Mr. Turner, how ARRRRRRRRRRRRRRE you?"
ME: "Grrr. What do you want?"
NL: "Well, we're just curious about your mailings we've been sending you."
ME: "Grrr."
NL: "Yes, well...uh,..."
ME: "Well, let's be honest. You guys are wasting lots of dough. I'm not interested in the church, and haven't been in about 20 years. So I'm curious as to how you got my address, and how the heck did you get my phone number, and why are you sending me stuff that's not for someone that's NOT a member of your organization."
NL: "Well these are fannnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnntastic questions, and I..."
ME: "And you will take my name of your mailing list and not call me anymore. Seriously. I'm not trying to be rude, believe me. But I'm simply not interested, and I really feel badly that you guys are mailing me what I can only assume are pretty expensive mailings. All I'm doing is throwing them away. Trust me."
NL: "Well thank you Mr. Turner, you do make a good point. (Here's where she tries to hook me...VERY VERY clever...she changes her voice and everything.) You know, I'm going to take care of everything for you. But I...I'm sorry Mr. Turner, but I just have to ask you something. You sound very intelligent (Bing bing bing bing), and you sound really nice (bing bing bing bing). I mean, to be concerned that we're wasting money is pretty cool. So thank you. But you sound sort of familiar with us, and I'm curious, why are you not interested in the church?"
ME: "Because I'm not. And I again really sincerely am not trying to be rude (note: I have GREAT potential to be VERY rude--I'm a 911 expert for crying out loud--and I truly was being Mr. Nice Guy), but my reasons are private. I'm not interested."
So anyway--the call ended very amicably, very polite, and I thought "HOLY CRAP!!!" Sincerely...see above those "bing bing bing bings"? Had I NOT been married, and had I NOT been grounded in life sufficiently in both temporal and spiritual matters, she could have hooked me. Seriously. As a matter of fact, and I'm just being honest, but her charm worked so well that I actually thought that "ohhh man, those Scientologists are pretty nice...that was cool...she was..." Than I hit myself. WTF was I thinking? No offense if you happen to be a Scientologist, but uhhhh. Well, YouTube ain't exactly showing the good side of your church nowadays (hint).
Was the matter done?
OH NO. No no no no...not by a long shot.
Last night, my phone rings. It's 9pm!!!!! A very nice sounding young man as polite as can be from the COS International Address Verification Center (I'm not lying!) called to confirm my address and phone number.
Stunned silence. Remember I said I can be rude on the phone. After 14 years of public safety experience, you learn how to be rather DIRECT on the phone to gain CONTROL of a call. That's what I've been trained to do. I had about 2 seconds to determine what my exact tact was going to be. Was I going to completely unload on this guy? Or was I going to be ultra cool and polite like I was with the previous caller from last week? Or?
I chose or. I was direct, and not friendly. But not rude. Polite. But direct. Very. Sort of like I'm typing. Now. See? You feel it don't you? SAY IT!!!
I said, "I'm sorry, but apparently you're mistaken. I don't need to verify my phone number with you since you ARE on the phone with me, and you DO have my address because you keep mailing your material to me. Now let me be abundantly clear. Take my name off of your list as I instructed the nice lady from last week. I do not want to get your stuff in my mailbox anymore. Are we good?" Boy that guy hopped right to it. "Yessssssss sir yes sir" and he was typing away (I could hear the clicking in the background), and he said, finally, after what sounded like he typed out a short novella on me, "Mr. Turner, I'm very sorry for the confusion. I actually just found the note from the person that talked to you last week. I missed that note. I will take care of this. Give it about 6 weeks before the mailings stop, ok? Just takes a little time to process." NO PROBLEM...thank you thank you...have a nice day, yadda yadda yadda, blah blah blah...and I hang up.
BACK TO DRILL....
However, just like in a bad informercial....BUT WAIT, THERE'S MORE!!!!!!!
At 9:50pm, MY PHONE RINGS....AGAIN.
It's the COS International Blah Blah Blah...wanting to...YOU GUESSED IT! VERIFY MY PHONE NUMBER AND ADDRESS!!!!
So I said to myself: "Self, shall I unleash the hounds?"
And I answered: "I shall."
Poor guy. The last I heard was....and this is as close to a quote as I can get..."Uh uh uh, I, uh, oh, yes, ahhh, yes, I uh, yes, you don't, oh I see, yes, hahaha, I called you by mistake, my bad, ha, buh bye." Click. Boooooooooooo.
He hung up ON ME!
Ain't that just a....
Apparently I rattled the foundation on which my home rests as I read him the riot act to which he, as indicated above, stammered through an apology forthwith.
So there you go. And Tommy, if you're reading this, please, tell your peeps to lay off now. I'm not interested. And don't get me angry. You wouldn't like me when I'm angry. I command lots of people that can do bad things with hoses. :-)
I'm out...thanks for reading "As The COS Turns".
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