The whole thing was like a dream. Jim and I showed up for the appointment at the old executive office building on the White House grounds, went through the metal detector (the Secret Service had done a background check on me in advance of the meeting), took the elevator, and suddenly there we were. Cabinet secretaries’ names on the doors. Young, well-groomed aides purposefully striding down the halls. And suddenly—this couldn’t be real—Vice President Quayle waved the Secret Service guards away as we approached his office and started hugging Jim.

“How’s Marilyn?”

“Just back from taking the kids to college. I’ll tell her you’re here; maybe she’ll come by. And this is the young entrepreneur. Well, I’ve been looking forward to meeting you. Please tell me your problem, and also tell it to Dan McIntosh here. He’s the head of the Competitiveness Council. We’re really interested in this issue.”

An hour later they were still interested. They were so in favor of IDT, I could have sold them an equity interest in the company—if they weren’t running the country. “Don’t worry,” Dan told me. “If everything you’ve told us checks out, I’ll speak to the FCC.” They did this not to placate me or any lobbyists either. They heard my arguments in favor of competition, and agreed with me. That made it even sweeter.

I was so wrapped up with the issue I’d temporarily almost forgotten where I was. Now, suddenly, with the meeting drawing to a close and the objective secured, the full unbelievability of where I was and what was happening fully hit me. I was in the White House with the Vice President. He was talking to me. Nobody would believe this. I wanted to savor the moment. I wanted a memento, some proof I was really here. I gave the Vice President my business card and asked if he’d give me an autographed one of his own in return.

“I’m sorry,” he said, “I don’t have any business cards.”

“You don’t?” I blurted out. “Well, what do you give other vice presidents when you meet with them?”

“That’s funny,” he laughed. “I guess no one ever considered that.”

“Well,” I asked him, “would you mind just autographing the back of my business card?” “Of course,” he graciously assented. I’d probably gone from being a world-class entrepreneur to a starstruck kid, in his eyes. But what the hell? I wouldn’t have been the real me if I didn’t ask.

The lobbyists from AT&T would probably never have asked for the autograph. Too bad for them. Had they asked, at least they would’ve come out of the fight with something. Instead they got nada. Nothing. The big zero.

When the ruling came out a week later, to everyone’s surprise, the FCC came out for IDT and competition. AT&T’s petition was not only denied, but the commission issued a policy statement in favor of the new callback industry.

Newspapers around the world wrote up the story. Many of the would-be obituary writers called for interviews. Sure, I’d give them an interview, but not until I gave the first exclusive to Forbes. I owed them, after all. The Forbes reporter didn’t disappoint me. I liked seeing my picture in the magazine, but I liked the headline above it even better. david 1, goliath 0.

Years later, when we started advertising our low-cost Internet phone service in the States, I wanted a catchy number, so I got 1-800-SCREW-ATT to use on the Howard Stern show. The shock-jock was afraid to use the number on the air, and after I called him a chickenshit in New York magazine, I believe he came close to starting a listener boycott of our firm. Stern’s radio station, I was told, was scared of what AT&T’s reaction to the number would be. Wasn’t I also afraid of AT&T? the radio station’s sales staff wanted to know. Not in the least, I told them.

Want proof? Put down this book for a minute and dial 1-800-SCREW-ATT. See who answers. And don’t forget to ask about our special discounts when you take more than one service from us.