Taggart :donor: on Nostr: Okay, as promised! In high school, I'd work any job to stay out from behind a cash ...
Okay, as promised!
In high school, I'd work any job to stay out from behind a cash register. That meant a lot of manual labor—mostly moving furniture for antiques stores (antiques trading was the family business), but one summer I got the opportunity to work as a fieldhand/general laborer at a...
**Vineyard/Animal Sanctuary**
I understand your confusion—believe me, I shared it. The background was that the place was built by an obscenely wealthy widow whose husband made his fortune buying property that then was sold to cell carriers for tower construction. When he passed, the massive estate was hers to do with as she pleased.
And it pleased her to:<li>Grow pinot in Southeastern Pennsylvania </li><li>Build whole-ass houses for cats</li><li>Save alpaca, peacocks and...dachsunds</li>
My job most days was to lift heavy things, which was fine by me. But in the afternoon, a *critical* role was to drive an electric golf cart up and down the vines, yelling at the top of my lungs to scare away the crows.
$10/hr cash in 2003. I was not complaining. Also I got really good at drifting the cart at the end of a row.
Then one day, I get to work and my manager informs me of two things: first, the cart was not charged overnight, so we might have to walk the vines; and second, we were asked to clean out the basement of the ridiculous mansion on this property. Apparently it had not been touched since the old man had passed away.
So we get up to the house and descend into...madness, really. I'm not sure which spouse was crazier, but it was stiff competition. Turns out the guy was a massive prepper, and we happened upon a whole secret storage lair hidden behind a mirrored cabinet inlaid in the wall! But that's not all.
Oh no, that's not all.
In cleaning out some boxes, also found an object I didn't know existed in real life. Leather straps, strings, a small honky horn, a tambourine, cymbals, and a bass drum with string-actuated hammer.
Yes, that's right. We had found a **one man band suit**. We had a good laugh for a few minutes, and then my boss gets a deadly serious look on his face.
My own face falls.
**CUT TO**
Late afternoon, summer in Southeastern Pennsylvania. With every step, a drumbeat. Every other step, a cymbal crash. Tambourines and honks all around. The one-man band suit had solved our crow problem for the day, and gifted me with this memory forever.
In high school, I'd work any job to stay out from behind a cash register. That meant a lot of manual labor—mostly moving furniture for antiques stores (antiques trading was the family business), but one summer I got the opportunity to work as a fieldhand/general laborer at a...
**Vineyard/Animal Sanctuary**
I understand your confusion—believe me, I shared it. The background was that the place was built by an obscenely wealthy widow whose husband made his fortune buying property that then was sold to cell carriers for tower construction. When he passed, the massive estate was hers to do with as she pleased.
And it pleased her to:<li>Grow pinot in Southeastern Pennsylvania </li><li>Build whole-ass houses for cats</li><li>Save alpaca, peacocks and...dachsunds</li>
My job most days was to lift heavy things, which was fine by me. But in the afternoon, a *critical* role was to drive an electric golf cart up and down the vines, yelling at the top of my lungs to scare away the crows.
$10/hr cash in 2003. I was not complaining. Also I got really good at drifting the cart at the end of a row.
Then one day, I get to work and my manager informs me of two things: first, the cart was not charged overnight, so we might have to walk the vines; and second, we were asked to clean out the basement of the ridiculous mansion on this property. Apparently it had not been touched since the old man had passed away.
So we get up to the house and descend into...madness, really. I'm not sure which spouse was crazier, but it was stiff competition. Turns out the guy was a massive prepper, and we happened upon a whole secret storage lair hidden behind a mirrored cabinet inlaid in the wall! But that's not all.
Oh no, that's not all.
In cleaning out some boxes, also found an object I didn't know existed in real life. Leather straps, strings, a small honky horn, a tambourine, cymbals, and a bass drum with string-actuated hammer.
Yes, that's right. We had found a **one man band suit**. We had a good laugh for a few minutes, and then my boss gets a deadly serious look on his face.
My own face falls.
**CUT TO**
Late afternoon, summer in Southeastern Pennsylvania. With every step, a drumbeat. Every other step, a cymbal crash. Tambourines and honks all around. The one-man band suit had solved our crow problem for the day, and gifted me with this memory forever.