Lindsey.

Some years ago when I first opened GeorgeCo., LLC, a Delaware Company, my new business phone was ringing fairly off the hook. Though nobody wants to be fired from a steady job, I came to believe that the timing of my firing was actually pretty good.

Not only was I able to beat the Covid "let's-fire-everyone-rush," when I was fired Ogilvy hadn't yet lost its reputation as a legitimate agency. To outsiders it still had meaning, like having played for the 1961 Yankees as opposed to the 1964 Washington Senators. Ogilvy's reputation while tarnished, still had the slightest bit of glow. A luster and meaning that's all-but vanished today.

As much as there's no good time to be shit-canned, my timing was actually pretty good. 

One afternoon, I was sitting in my office in my ramshackle seaside cottage on the Gingham Coast in Connecticut and my cellphone lit up like a Hanukkah menorah. The screen read "unknown caller," but against my usual sterling judgment, I answered it anyway.

I said "hello," and a stern voice on the other end of the blower began speaking.

"This is George Tannenbaum," it growled. It was more of a command than a question.

"This is he," I grammared.

"Hold please for Senator Lindsey Graham."

I held the receiver away from my face and looked at it quizzically like a cartoon double-take. Soon, in a soft Southern lilt, I heard a man's voice.

"Mr. George," he said, "This is Senator Lindsey Graham. Ahm planning on introducing a new cookie. It's a campaign idea one of the boys had."

"A stunt. A way of humanizing you. A way to get some buzz?" 

"They told me you was one smart New York advertising Jew and they weren't just pullin' my seersucker, were they? That's exactly right."

"Thank you, Senator. How can I help you?"

"Ah like that Ah do. You New York Jews are as quick as a hongry cat at a fish market. You're off and runnin' like a bootlegger at a traffic light. You're tongue is flappin' like a blind dog's tale in a butcher's shop.

"Mr. George, Ah need you to use all your advertising accy-u-man to hep me launch this here biscuit. Ah know your jus' the New York Jew Boy who could do it. You do know of my fervid support of Israel, correct?"

"What kind of cookies are they, Senator?"

"They's delicious, they is. Talk to my aide and we'll dispatch y' a passel in two shakes of a senate page-boy's ass."

And with that Senator Graham handed the phone to an assistant to make all the necessary arrangements.

Suffice to say, though the cookies were indeed delicious, the Senator's people and I couldn't agree to payment terms and with the press of paying clients as is was, I wound up turning down the job. 

Senator Graham died on Sunday, and I am mourning his passing. 

I will never know what became of  Lindsey's Filling-Busters.

"The cookie that keeps your lips moving.®"