Where was Michael Buffer, fight announcer, to introduce me like this, “At 5’9, 184 pounds from Oakland, California, undefeated at locates and process serving, let’s hear it for Mike Spencer!”
Easter Sunday brought me to Union City trying to find a subject who had evaded me for two months. Anyone who knows me has pegged me as a sore loser. I am. I hate getting beat. I knew that if he was a traditional Filipino Catholic that my subject would come home to his parents.
I saw his black Audi TT with no license plates pull into the driveway. I rushed up but he pretended not to hear me. He claimed his name was “Tim” and that he was the brother. I wasn’t buying. His sister took the trial subpoena from me. It was a good personal service because the two criteria had been met: Awareness and Proximity.
I so badly wanted to do the Tiger Woods fist pump or find someone to chest bump. In the end I just drove away with the satisfaction of a job well done. In the words of coaches, I acted like I had been there before.