Golden

Chad will talk to anyone, and he has this special ability to relate to the one person in the room that everyone else avoids. A perfect example: he once spent the night at a bar shooting pool with a man who had elephantitis feet. I'm not even kidding.

Last night the phone rang and I heard him asking weird questions like, "How much is the minimum donation?" and "What address should I send it to?" Alarmed that he may be donating money to the Fraternal Order of Police or something else equally frivolous, I asked who was on the phone. "A stuttering telemarketer," he said. Imagine staying on the phone for ten minutes with a stuttering telemarketer while he fumbles to get his sales pitch out.

My Chad, he has a secret heart of gold.