I Miss the Mob...
So, I’ve been watching Netflix’s Five Families.
Say what you want about the Mob—and plenty’s been said, mostly by prosecutors and widows—but those guys were straight shooters. And I mean that beyond mere marksmanship.
Why was John Bravado known as the “Icepick”?
Because he carried an icepick.
Why was Frank Lavonna called “Frankie the Fink”?
Because he was a fink.
See what I mean?
Try that at a Fortune 500 company. Instead, I get phone calls like this:
“I’m Chatly, from Disruptive Solutions…”
I hang up.
But sometimes, I wonder how a conversation might have gone:
“Hey, Chatly! Tell me a bit about yourself!”
“Well, at Disruptive Solutions, we think of ourselves as a value-creating proposition!”
“Amazing! Do you eat pasta?”
“No.”
“How about grappa? It’s good for digestion.”
“No.”
“Would you help me pack Fat Tony in a meat locker until he’s ready for Jimmy the Icepick?”
“No.”
“Then what is it you do?!”
“We maximize virtual integration multiplatforming—”
I hang up.
I’m happy to hang up on Chatly, but not on Loretta Genovese.
“Listen Loretta, I’m in the middle of something.”
“Honey doll, you don’t hang up on me. My cousin Richie hung up on me once. You know what Richie does now? He eats his steak with a straw.”
“I’m listening.”
“Good. Now listen. Sunday. Dinner. My mother is making her linguine and clams—not that jar garbage—and you’re gonna sit at the table, and you’re gonna eat, and you’re gonna tell her it’s the best thing you ever had in your life. Which it is. And then after, we talk business. Capisce?”
“What kinda business?”
“The kind where I might need to call an ambulance.”
“I’ll be there.”
“Good. And dress nice. Wear the blue. The grey makes you look like a mortician.”
What happened to the good old days when you could drop in on a wedding and leave with piece of cake and a set of hubcaps?
Try doing that with customer service at a Pfizer.
“Hi, I’d like to speak with someone about someone I’d like to whack.”
“Please hold.”
No wiseguy ever said “please hold.”
Please stop, sure! But “please hold”? No, never. Not unless Silk Hands Sal tells you to please hold your balls— because it would be a real shame if Butterfingers Benny had another accident with that meat cleaver.
And, best part. No customer survey.
“Did your collection officer introduce himself using his proper title (like, “Hello, I am Tommy the Kneecap Gargotta, and I’ll be your torturer”)?
Press 1 for YES; press 2 for NO
“Were your knees capped to satisfaction?”
Press 1 for YES; press 2 for NO
“Was the blunt instrument in your session clean and rust-free?”
Press 1 for YES; press 2 for NO
“On a scale of 1 to 5, 5 being the most favorable, would you recommend Tommy the Kneecap Gargotta to friends, family, or business partners?”
“Thank you for you completing our survey. Your responses has been recorded and could be used to improve our collection services. Thank you, goodbye.”
I'm laughing so hard, I might split a lung! I grew up in Youngstown, OH, aka Crimetown USA where my friends' fathers had names like that. This is pure gold! Thank you for the laugh. I now must call my sister and we must watch The Five Families together. We randomly recite lines from all 3 Godfather movies to each other.