In this situation, what would Bob Bullock do?

One Saturday, Glenn Hegar got up before his wife and kids so he could send emails to his staff, asking questions about things that a state comptroller ought to know. It was quiet. The sun was not yet up, so when the phone on his desk rang it startled him. “Hello?” “Bullock.” Hegar tilted his head like a dog hearing a whistle. “Bob Bullock? The museum guy?” he asked. On the other end of the line he heard Bullock exhale smoke and curse so violently that he thought he heard demons whimper. “Oh, wait, weren’t you comptroller, too?”

“Listen, uh, Glenn,” began Bullock, flattening the current comptroller’s name with enough contempt to chill Hegar’s bones. “You screwed up the revenues.”

“Well, no one could have predicted oil would drop off like that,” said Hegar. “Our production was still high. Did you read my op-ed in the Wall Street Journal?”

Hegar again heard the demons whimper.

“Predicting revenue is complex,” said Hegar. “It’s very complicated. I take it very seriously.”

“You act like you’re predicting the weather,” said Bullock when he stopping cursing. “You forget that you’re making it rain.”

“Boy, I wish I could make it rain. That would come in handy on the farm.”

“Glenn, I think you might be the smartest rice farmer who ever became comptroller.”

“I’m the only one ever,” bragged Glenn.

“You’re a helluva farmer, but you don’t understand the power you have.”

“Well, now I try not to get into the Legislature’s business. I kinda try to be helpful and put some parameters on things.”

“Then what was the deal with the letter you sent to the Legislature last spring?” asked Bullock. “Anyone could tell you were warning them to take care of Texas before cuttin’ taxes.”

“It was factually based,” protested Hegar. “I wasn’t picking a side. They’re the decision makers. I sent that letter as an FYI. I wasn’t trying to get in their business. Kinda my point being is, if they want to give me appropriating authority...”

“You think anyone in the Legislature every tried worrying about my authority?” asked Bullock. “If you keep rolling over for Dan Patrick and showing him your puppy belly, you’ll never be the big dog. Let me put this in terms you might understand. You seem like a nice guy.” “Thanks!” said Hegar. “Are you happy with Congress? No, of course not. Why?” asked Bullock, who didn’t give Hegar the slightest impression that his answer was required. “Because Obama’s pulling every lever he’s got to get his agenda done — and what’s Congress doing? Nothing. So you’re mad, right?” “Well, yeah!” said Hegar. “Sure you are,” said Bullock, “because Congress isn’t using the power of the purse — and that’s what you got. The power of the purse.”

“Yeah, but I’m not a policymaker. I’m a provider of facts,” said Glenn, whose career in the Legislature had in no way prepared him for the full force of the yelling that served as Bullock’s initial response.

“You got one priority as comptroller, and that’s Texas,” Bullock said. “It’s not getting on the tea party’s good side. It’s not your re-election. Texas needs roads. You build ’em. Texas needs water. You fix that. And like it or not, public schools cost more money than you’re spending. You spend it. You do right by Texas, you never need to worry about an election.” “But we made progress...” “Listen, don’t try telling me that the reason the Legislature isn’t taking care of Texas is that your former colleagues are too scared of getting primaried. I know that. You know that. But here’s the thing,” said Bullock. “They want tax cuts. You got their money. You can be the one guy who’s sticking up for Texas who might be able to get something done for Texas. But you’re too busy acting like you’re Dan Patrick’s accountant.”

Hegar fell silent. The sun was breaking over the fields, and he heard his wife’s muffled footsteps as she checked on the kids.

“Listen, Glenn, I have to go,” said Bullock. “Your wife’s awake, and we’re holding a hearing on Greg Abbott screwing over the Astros. They take sports jinxes very seriously down here. The chairman owes me a favor, though. You don’t worry about that. Just take care of Texas, Glenn.”

The line went dead.