...Since it’s very close to the anniversary of that fateful day when ‘I quit my job’, threw caution to the wind, gathered up my dogs, sold everything I own, moved to Montana, landed a job, got fired, sobered up (a bit), and settled in a dingy singlewide in the middle of an Indian Reservation (to nearly freeze to death all winter long); I thought it’d be fitting and fair to reassess such a drastic move in the hopes of informing those who may be considering such actions, or to discourage others who were born with a fully developed brain from making the same mistake.
For me personally it has not been a complete disaster. Oh sure there were some monumental mistakes and setbacks along the way, no argument there, but ultimately my goal was to ‘escape to the wilds of Montana’; a dream I’ve had since I were a teen. That part of the plan has been fulfilled as I’m still here and still alive one year later, as well as those of my trusted canine companions.
While settling in one particular spot remains a constant dilemma, my state-of-mind is clearer than anywhere I’ve lived before and because of this I’ve decided ‘the state of Montana’ will forever remain my home.
I’m certainly happier now than I was back on the South Georgia plantations and my two trusty bird dogs would likely agree. As they too seem to enjoy running thru fields as far as the eye can see -chasing wild pheasants, Huns, and sharptails; than they ever were on the flat featureless wiregrass landscape occasionally pocked with 12 gauged sized holes where pen-raised quail had refused to take flight in front of trigger-happy red necks
?!
We’ve meshed the three of us; Suzie, Boca, and myself, and are popular amongst the locals as an ‘odd-pairing’ yes, though generally considered non-dangerous thankfully; considering other even creepier inhabitants of Fort Smith, Montana.
……………..
Though I’m hardly an ‘authority’ at anything, most especially not hunting or fly-fishing, or anything else that could make a dime; I think my experience at ‘being really stupid’ has taught me a few things? So if you’ll bear with me I’ll share them in ‘rule-form’, as I myself at least intend to adhere to them; should I ever completely lose my mind and make a move to say Alaska or the South Pole?
Rule 1 – ‘Don’t Pack so Lightly’
If you should be considering a move to Montana, it’d be wise to bring a two-legged companion along as well -preferably (and I can’t believe I’m saying this) one you’ve committed to spending the rest of your lifelong days with, complete with ring and all; else she might be stolen at gunpoint by a deranged mountain-man… which is actually quite common and appears on the front page of the ‘Billings Gazette’ from time to time.
Though I’ve clearly been out of ‘the dating game’ for what appears to be close to an entire generation or two and my knowledge of ‘what women want’ is waning toward possibly remaining terminally-single the rest of my days; I am by default, having spent every waking hour of over 8 months of Montana’ winter with Suzie -the feisty Brittany, and Boca - the German Super Model of Shorthairs’; more attuned to ‘what female-dogs want’ than any other man on earth?!
…Whether this ever manages to pay the bills or make my heart hurt any less remains to be seen.
……………..
Rule 2 – ‘Come with a sense of humor first, adventure second (especially if you skip Rule 1).’
Having your sexuality questioned in front of others in-jest is generally something I don’t get to angry about, as I’m known to do the same for the sake of a laugh. When it’s done in a busy fly shop and the person in-question hasn’t had much success with women and relationships as of late; (being stuck on a bloody Indian reservation) – ‘they can sometimes take exception’ FYI?
…And while threatening the life of a fellow human-being is all well and good (common on a South Georgia Plantation), it certainly doesn’t, looking back on the incident, seem to have helped matters when you’re already complaining of ‘not having enough hours’ with your employer; -who’s standing within earshot.
……………..
Example:
I was driving my truck the other night after dark (this time of year about 10), and when I turned on my left signal-light I was startled to see the indicator blinking in my driver-side rearview mirror (late model Z-71)? …At this point it donned on me I hadn’t been behind the wheel this late before in several months, or at least ‘turned left’ while doing so. This was also an indication, blinking brightly in my face; ‘I haven’t courted a woman in as long, or at least one willing to hang out with me past 10?’
…Oh I’ve got two rambunctious females who won’t leave me alone even when I’m in the bathroom, but they are dogs (literally) and well…
The few women in town ‘available’ (all 3) are well aware I’m single and unfortunately in a fishing-village (population 150 during-season/only 40 in winter), it appears they’ve shared my ‘desires and desperation’ with nearly everyone; and it’s not been a kind few months here I’ll tell you that! …If they were women I’d ‘have wanted to go and tell the world’ (universally considered: ‘hot’, instead of “not” and enrolled in AARP or worried about breaking their dentures when out on a date), that’d be different? …Instead I’m stuck being accused locally of ‘stalking old Miss Stanton?’
Though this isn’t entirely inaccurate since ‘it was reciprocal for a while there’ or at least I thought; and more importantly- ‘she makes a mean spaghetti and meatball dinner’ I say in my defense. I’d show up unannounced sometimes I’ll admit; ‘almost certain I could smell her cooking from across the village…?’
“They say: ‘the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach’?!” I screamed through her window one evening.
“Boy, I was just being nice to you that one time, now why don’t you go on git already!*”
*(This being the ‘fit-for-forum version’ of her response)
Unfortunately because of this, I’ve also garnered a new ‘nick name’, not that I need another…?
…So far I’ll admit-(and can’t believe I’m doing so?) I was in fact,… called: “Booger” for a while there in Junior high. Not because I picked my nose more often than the next kid I don’t think, but because my stupid Senior classmates, who shared Basic-Math with me (they being held behind in Special-Ed, I a sophomore), were without imagination and ‘stole it without copy-right’ from the popular ‘Revenge of the Nerds’ movie at the time?!
…Then came: “Guido” for reasons I’m still unsure, though might’ve been in reference to The God Father series (or SNL, still not clear?), as they were my ‘druggie-friends’ and well; ‘who knew what they were thinking’ when they were?…“Stretch” was what some actually thought my birth-name was in college; I was referred by it so often? “Stick-man!” was because I was thin till thirty, and black guys would yell it from moving cars in NYC as I ran for cover.
Then came the weight (excessive) and with it such lovely social-affecting nicknames like “Buddha”, “Squishy”, and “Lumpy”, though the last two had specific reasons for them -neither are fit for the forum? “Moe” came later and is in relation to a popular, though mentally retarded English setter I owned on the plantation, which has since passed, and while I don’t mind being referred to him as such; I most definitely prefer it to the ‘Fort Smith nick-name…’
…Thanks to Old Miss Stanton’s drunken ramblings- ignoring the river itself; as having a ‘near perfect reputation in the lower-forty-eight’ -a man (your beloved Moe) has been given the title: ….“Big Horn” and unintentionally diminished another popular location in Montana, often listed in Field and Stream; …as it’s in no reference whatsoever to my fly-fishing capabilities?
………………………….
Rule 3 – ‘Don’t take the last available singlewide on earth no one, not even the worst drunkards in Fort Smith wouldn’t consider ‘livable’*; and force its’ elderly landlords -who had long since considered it ‘condemned’ -into ‘skirting it’; so you and your dogs could become permanent residents; and then complain when stuff is broken and never fixed?!’
*True at the time.
‘A singlewide’ isn’t all that bad I now realize on a few conditions… First, its best to live in one ‘not from the era preceding the Star Wars Series (the original)’, else you freeze to death same as early settlers did in wagons -lacking such basic things as dang heat -that doesn’t require refilling of a tank outside it every 20 days at $3.00 a gallon during a recession
.
…Second, would be making sure said-trailer/wagon is equipped with some form of outer containment area (a fence in this case), else you risk losing the only two females who will talk to you during the more brutal months of subzero temps when your otherwise teetering on being classified as: ‘legally insane’?
…Third, is that when you pick a place to live, make sure it’s at least up to visitation by fellow-human standards. If ‘fellow-human being’ is confusing; pick the lowest-form you can imagine then work from there up, as far as whom you’d like to visit your dwelling. This being ‘Fort Smith’ and a virtual dead-end in more ways than one, we are blessed with every life-form in the human-chain and though they all fish religiously; they do very little else with as much effort except drink and complain when the fishing’s no good.
Regardless of the inhabitants themselves, it’s important it not be located an hour deep into an Indian reservation and your homes’ exterior-color ‘anything but’ puke yellow is helpful. If there’s ‘70s shag carpeting underfoot that is no longer shaggy’ when you arrive, but mostly a flattened pee and pooh color Astroturf; this should be removed prior to winter (do not question your first impression). It’s also advised to redecorate at least a little –purchasing a curtain from the current century, or a bed to lie down in not 6” shorter than you that was apparently salvaged from the local nut-house, would have been helpful to have replaced; amongst a dozen other things?
All of this is advised to avoid having what’s generally referred to as: ‘wall-to-wall filth’ by the few other inhabitants in town. Ignore these, like I did, and you could find yourself alone most of your life and/or jumping out of your skin the first time you actually hear a ‘knock’ at your door in close to a full year, as well as having an equally frightened dog jump on your face at the same time?!
…Needless to say, with the exception of my lone friend from Florida who came up to hunt last year and never set foot inside (now that I think about it?), staying in our lodge instead; none of my family- brother, sister, nieces, or nephews, has even inquired about visiting me in Montana …once a brief description of the ‘tin can’ comes into the conversation?
……………………..
Rule 4 – ‘Assuming you lived thru the Winter (still a miracle I made it); it’s important to realize there’s a near equally brutal Summer ahead and some preparation should be considered early on.’
If you would imagine living in that tiny old GA lease trailer many of you own, 24/7 for an entire year, this should give most an idea what I’m dealing with; though this is just a starting-reference. Add to this -two absentminded millionaires who are over 160 years-combined and you’ll understand why it was 97 degrees outside/108 in the other day, and neither of them ‘remembered I still had no A/C’; though both having owned the bloody thing since Nam?????!!!!!
Whatever a ‘swamp cooler’ is I would really like to find out?! It sits stationary, aging, rusty, and gives off zero-coolness idle next to my dwelling. I think Suzie and Boca, who have both-as a team-dug a gigantic hole in the Montana soil next to it, will agree: ‘it aint worth a hoot if it aint hooked up’?!
If it weren’t like everything else inside -missing major parts to make it run, I’d tackle such a project myself even on my meager pay, but since it’s essentially a large odd metallic object with no discernable way of making it work without serious financial input-otherwise; I’ve instead, chosen to ‘publicly ridicule’ them and none too kindly in our tiny community -in hopes it gets back to them, they’re embarrassed enough, and then get off their geriatric butts and fix the dang thing?!
The running pool at the fly shop on ‘what the flows would be on July 6th’ had a small sub-pool below it on “how long it’ll take Moe’s old doo-fuss landlords to fix his A/C?”..Some wise guy local put $5.00 bucks in saying ‘never’, but whether he’s right or not; he’s now ‘under my radar’, as I hold the controls of ‘who-guides and who-doesn’t’ -based on a stroke of my pencil.
(Update: I now have a working ‘swamp cooler’! –Ridicule worked for once...and me and the girls are ‘not so hot’; I should say?)
…………………..
Rule 5 (this is for fellow idiots especially) – Once you land a job in a far away strange place, it’s advised you A) get sober, if you’re otherwise inclined to get fired for being drunk on jobs, B) know what the heck you’re talking about whether it’s brain surgery, dental hygiene, or in this case: fly fishing, C) be content in whatever positions given you, no matter how low on the totem pole it is, and D) keep your big mouth shut for a full year!!!……
I found myself ‘actually giving a hoot’ recently at work*, and the whole episode unnerved me to the point I instantly retreated into the area I call: ‘complete silence’; (it’s over near the t-shirt rack) where I’m unseen from the register and stayed till called to assist customers. Though not as it turns out, without first making me sound and appear as possibly the most deranged and certifiable lunatic in Fort Smith (which is saying a lot)?!
*Don’t do this, if you can help it?
I’d been noticing a couple guides from ‘The Wrangler’ (a competitor’s fly shop) on my block, which caught me by surprise since none of them live over there; so I thought ‘they must be picking up clients’? …Sure enough I spotted one the very morning in question and he was parked in front of our shop’s rental-house called ‘Early Risers Cabin’, which sat adjacent my own dilapidated singlewide.
I was sure the guests staying there were ‘our clients’ as I’d checked them in myself. Their name: McKeon as I keenly recalled, was part of a massive booking of over 26 trips for the trucking company-MAC and I instantly thought: ‘that son of a gun Derrick is up to his old tricks again; stealing clients by under-cutting us big time’?!
Instead of being serenely relaxed -awakening from slumber gradually as most humans do; I found myself in the shower and furious as usual! I can’t for the life of me describe why, but it’s not the first time I’ve yelled at the soap rack and punched the shower curtain, while slinging a wash cloth into the corner of the tub; angered as if I was in ‘heated debate’ while standing there naked and otherwise unattractive -much to the confusion of Suzie and Boca who retreat having grown used to such outbursts behind the crazy-curtain?
By the time I got to work the words had been well-rehearsed and I was convinced I was onto something important, ‘news worthy’, and potentially devastating to the company (and especially my hours) in the coming months; all dependent on how many customers or trips we had booked. I was thinking if I shared this information and we stopped it before it started, regaining the future-trips ‘obviously stolen’, it would fare well for me as an employee; one worthy of managerial-salary or at least an increase to a livable wage?
…‘That valued employee-who sincerely cares about the fly shop’s future’ is how I envisioned myself.
Unfortunately, or fortunate rather, neither Geoff nor Donnie (the owners) was present, and instead Pat was the only one in the shop when I arrived. As I began ’my rant’ he stood there and smirked and lazily glared at me as if all of his geriatric medications were coursing through his veins at the same time and dizzying him to the point of slumber.
“I’m tellin ya he’s stealing our clients! That’s the McKeons they’re with that guy who has ‘twenty trips booked with us’?!”
“Well, it’ll all work out in the end.” Pat said.
“What? Are you kidding? Twenty trips ‘in this economy’ and all you’re gonna do is say ‘oh well’?”
“It’s not like we have that many vacancies left anyway?” Pat said flipping thru the book and both of us staring at half-blank pages.
“Sure there are. Look at that and there too; there are lots of openings! ….Heck we’re cancelling guides right and left, my hours are cut because of it, the guides are ticked, we’re losing money if this kid takes em!”
“Well, what are you gonna do?” he said as he always does. ‘What an idiot’ I thought; ‘same reason why my hours were allowed to be taken by the evil mistress-Terry (a former coworker), while he meekly stood by and let her erase me from the schedule’?
“This is UNBELIEVABLE! You don’t care whether we lose the entire account to a punk who underbid us, after we’ve been booking most of the trips and to top it off; he’s having them stay ‘in our lodging’ instead of his own horrendous motel?!”
“You know, it all has a way of working itself out in the end.” He said tilting his little head to the side and the familiar smirk where his crow’s feet and every other wrinkle in his face squeezes itself into a prune of indifference.
“For Heaven’s sakes that’s got to be a $10,000.00 booking?!... So were gonna let the whole McKeon - MAC account get stolen while we stand here and do nothing? …How ridiculous is that!?”
“Oh wait, no they’re not the McKeon’s with the MAC account; that’s ‘McKean’, it’s a different family, spelt with an ‘a’; McKeon is a common name out here in Montana. The MAC account is something else. …He has booked several trips with us and he’s not going anywhere!”
“Oh…?
…huh…sorry, guess I was wrong.”
………………….
And see, right there; ‘perfect example’ of why I should always remain an ‘em-ploy-ee’ and never ever a manager of anything?! Not even a little old fly shop on an Indian Reservation in the middle of nowhere…. As apparently, and I think most around these parts would agree, I’m ‘a complete idiot!’
I’ve quit arguing with people when they call me this, even to my face. The sooner we all grasp this, the better for the continuation of this series of short-stories at least. Hey, ‘you are what you are’- who am I to argue with the masses?
…This is also a perfect example, not like you needed anymore, why I’ve also spent nearly half my life as an ‘unemployed-idiot’?...
………………….
When ambition has struck in the past, it was usually at the worst times. Like on a plantation with total morons and misfits who didn’t give a hoot about anything; ‘there I was completely immersed in trying desperately to make a difference and profit’? Whereas when I was in NYC or LA, and otherwise should have been completely focused on the task of becoming the greatest photographer I’d ever dreamt to be; instead I was often found incarcerated or face down in a sewer with puke in my ears and a bloody nose, though no one in sight-and having ‘clearly been beat-up’ at some point throughout the night?
Now, I’m an employee at a little old fly shop in Montana and have wholeheartedly embraced my worthlessness. When things go wrong, a schedule screw up, someone locked out of their room all night, or the weather causes cancellations, I just shrug my shoulders and go home at the end of the day without a care otherwise? Just like Bubba and Willie did at the plantation, I sleep soundly assured someone else will deal with it; and if they don’t…well that’s fine too.
…………………..
For me personally it has not been a complete disaster. Oh sure there were some monumental mistakes and setbacks along the way, no argument there, but ultimately my goal was to ‘escape to the wilds of Montana’; a dream I’ve had since I were a teen. That part of the plan has been fulfilled as I’m still here and still alive one year later, as well as those of my trusted canine companions.
While settling in one particular spot remains a constant dilemma, my state-of-mind is clearer than anywhere I’ve lived before and because of this I’ve decided ‘the state of Montana’ will forever remain my home.
I’m certainly happier now than I was back on the South Georgia plantations and my two trusty bird dogs would likely agree. As they too seem to enjoy running thru fields as far as the eye can see -chasing wild pheasants, Huns, and sharptails; than they ever were on the flat featureless wiregrass landscape occasionally pocked with 12 gauged sized holes where pen-raised quail had refused to take flight in front of trigger-happy red necks
?!We’ve meshed the three of us; Suzie, Boca, and myself, and are popular amongst the locals as an ‘odd-pairing’ yes, though generally considered non-dangerous thankfully; considering other even creepier inhabitants of Fort Smith, Montana.
……………..
Though I’m hardly an ‘authority’ at anything, most especially not hunting or fly-fishing, or anything else that could make a dime; I think my experience at ‘being really stupid’ has taught me a few things? So if you’ll bear with me I’ll share them in ‘rule-form’, as I myself at least intend to adhere to them; should I ever completely lose my mind and make a move to say Alaska or the South Pole?
Rule 1 – ‘Don’t Pack so Lightly’
If you should be considering a move to Montana, it’d be wise to bring a two-legged companion along as well -preferably (and I can’t believe I’m saying this) one you’ve committed to spending the rest of your lifelong days with, complete with ring and all; else she might be stolen at gunpoint by a deranged mountain-man… which is actually quite common and appears on the front page of the ‘Billings Gazette’ from time to time.
Though I’ve clearly been out of ‘the dating game’ for what appears to be close to an entire generation or two and my knowledge of ‘what women want’ is waning toward possibly remaining terminally-single the rest of my days; I am by default, having spent every waking hour of over 8 months of Montana’ winter with Suzie -the feisty Brittany, and Boca - the German Super Model of Shorthairs’; more attuned to ‘what female-dogs want’ than any other man on earth?!…Whether this ever manages to pay the bills or make my heart hurt any less remains to be seen.
……………..
Rule 2 – ‘Come with a sense of humor first, adventure second (especially if you skip Rule 1).’
Having your sexuality questioned in front of others in-jest is generally something I don’t get to angry about, as I’m known to do the same for the sake of a laugh. When it’s done in a busy fly shop and the person in-question hasn’t had much success with women and relationships as of late; (being stuck on a bloody Indian reservation) – ‘they can sometimes take exception’ FYI?
…And while threatening the life of a fellow human-being is all well and good (common on a South Georgia Plantation
), it certainly doesn’t, looking back on the incident, seem to have helped matters when you’re already complaining of ‘not having enough hours’ with your employer; -who’s standing within earshot.……………..
Example:
I was driving my truck the other night after dark (this time of year about 10), and when I turned on my left signal-light I was startled to see the indicator blinking in my driver-side rearview mirror (late model Z-71)? …At this point it donned on me I hadn’t been behind the wheel this late before in several months, or at least ‘turned left’ while doing so. This was also an indication, blinking brightly in my face; ‘I haven’t courted a woman in as long, or at least one willing to hang out with me past 10?’
…Oh I’ve got two rambunctious females who won’t leave me alone even when I’m in the bathroom, but they are dogs (literally) and well…
The few women in town ‘available’ (all 3) are well aware I’m single and unfortunately in a fishing-village (population 150 during-season/only 40 in winter), it appears they’ve shared my ‘desires and desperation’ with nearly everyone; and it’s not been a kind few months here I’ll tell you that
! …If they were women I’d ‘have wanted to go and tell the world’ (universally considered: ‘hot’, instead of “not” and enrolled in AARP or worried about breaking their dentures when out on a date), that’d be different? …Instead I’m stuck being accused locally of ‘stalking old Miss Stanton?’Though this isn’t entirely inaccurate since ‘it was reciprocal for a while there’ or at least I thought; and more importantly- ‘she makes a mean spaghetti and meatball dinner’ I say in my defense. I’d show up unannounced sometimes I’ll admit; ‘almost certain I could smell her cooking from across the village…?’
“They say: ‘the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach’?!” I screamed through her window one evening.
“Boy, I was just being nice to you that one time, now why don’t you go on git already!*”
*(This being the ‘fit-for-forum version’ of her response)
Unfortunately because of this, I’ve also garnered a new ‘nick name’, not that I need another…?
…So far I’ll admit-(and can’t believe I’m doing so?) I was in fact,… called: “Booger” for a while there in Junior high. Not because I picked my nose more often than the next kid I don’t think, but because my stupid Senior classmates, who shared Basic-Math with me (they being held behind in Special-Ed, I a sophomore), were without imagination and ‘stole it without copy-right’ from the popular ‘Revenge of the Nerds’ movie at the time?!
…Then came: “Guido” for reasons I’m still unsure, though might’ve been in reference to The God Father series (or SNL, still not clear?), as they were my ‘druggie-friends’ and well; ‘who knew what they were thinking’ when they were?…“Stretch” was what some actually thought my birth-name was in college; I was referred by it so often? “Stick-man!” was because I was thin till thirty, and black guys would yell it from moving cars in NYC as I ran for cover.
Then came the weight (excessive) and with it such lovely social-affecting nicknames like “Buddha”, “Squishy”, and “Lumpy”, though the last two had specific reasons for them -neither are fit for the forum? “Moe” came later and is in relation to a popular, though mentally retarded English setter I owned on the plantation, which has since passed, and while I don’t mind being referred to him as such; I most definitely prefer it to the ‘Fort Smith nick-name…’…Thanks to Old Miss Stanton’s drunken ramblings- ignoring the river itself; as having a ‘near perfect reputation in the lower-forty-eight’ -a man (your beloved Moe) has been given the title: ….“Big Horn” and unintentionally diminished another popular location in Montana, often listed in Field and Stream; …as it’s in no reference whatsoever to my fly-fishing capabilities?
………………………….
Rule 3 – ‘Don’t take the last available singlewide on earth no one, not even the worst drunkards in Fort Smith wouldn’t consider ‘livable’*; and force its’ elderly landlords -who had long since considered it ‘condemned’ -into ‘skirting it’; so you and your dogs could become permanent residents; and then complain when stuff is broken and never fixed?!’
*True at the time.
‘A singlewide’ isn’t all that bad I now realize on a few conditions… First, its best to live in one ‘not from the era preceding the Star Wars Series (the original)’, else you freeze to death same as early settlers did in wagons -lacking such basic things as dang heat -that doesn’t require refilling of a tank outside it every 20 days at $3.00 a gallon during a recession
. …Second, would be making sure said-trailer/wagon is equipped with some form of outer containment area (a fence in this case), else you risk losing the only two females who will talk to you during the more brutal months of subzero temps when your otherwise teetering on being classified as: ‘legally insane’?
…Third, is that when you pick a place to live, make sure it’s at least up to visitation by fellow-human standards. If ‘fellow-human being’ is confusing; pick the lowest-form you can imagine then work from there up, as far as whom you’d like to visit your dwelling. This being ‘Fort Smith’ and a virtual dead-end in more ways than one, we are blessed with every life-form in the human-chain and though they all fish religiously; they do very little else with as much effort except drink and complain when the fishing’s no good.
Regardless of the inhabitants themselves, it’s important it not be located an hour deep into an Indian reservation and your homes’ exterior-color ‘anything but’ puke yellow is helpful. If there’s ‘70s shag carpeting underfoot that is no longer shaggy’ when you arrive, but mostly a flattened pee and pooh color Astroturf; this should be removed prior to winter (do not question your first impression). It’s also advised to redecorate at least a little –purchasing a curtain from the current century, or a bed to lie down in not 6” shorter than you that was apparently salvaged from the local nut-house, would have been helpful to have replaced; amongst a dozen other things?
All of this is advised to avoid having what’s generally referred to as: ‘wall-to-wall filth’ by the few other inhabitants in town. Ignore these, like I did, and you could find yourself alone most of your life and/or jumping out of your skin the first time you actually hear a ‘knock’ at your door in close to a full year, as well as having an equally frightened dog jump on your face at the same time?!
…Needless to say, with the exception of my lone friend from Florida who came up to hunt last year and never set foot inside (now that I think about it?), staying in our lodge instead; none of my family- brother, sister, nieces, or nephews, has even inquired about visiting me in Montana …once a brief description of the ‘tin can’ comes into the conversation?
……………………..
Rule 4 – ‘Assuming you lived thru the Winter (still a miracle I made it); it’s important to realize there’s a near equally brutal Summer ahead and some preparation should be considered early on.’
If you would imagine living in that tiny old GA lease trailer many of you own, 24/7 for an entire year, this should give most an idea what I’m dealing with; though this is just a starting-reference. Add to this -two absentminded millionaires who are over 160 years-combined and you’ll understand why it was 97 degrees outside/108 in the other day, and neither of them ‘remembered I still had no A/C’; though both having owned the bloody thing since Nam
?????!!!!!Whatever a ‘swamp cooler’ is I would really like to find out?! It sits stationary, aging, rusty, and gives off zero-coolness idle next to my dwelling. I think Suzie and Boca, who have both-as a team-dug a gigantic hole in the Montana soil next to it, will agree: ‘it aint worth a hoot if it aint hooked up’?!
If it weren’t like everything else inside -missing major parts to make it run, I’d tackle such a project myself even on my meager pay, but since it’s essentially a large odd metallic object with no discernable way of making it work without serious financial input-otherwise; I’ve instead, chosen to ‘publicly ridicule’ them and none too kindly in our tiny community -in hopes it gets back to them, they’re embarrassed enough, and then get off their geriatric butts and fix the dang thing?!
The running pool at the fly shop on ‘what the flows would be on July 6th’ had a small sub-pool below it on “how long it’ll take Moe’s old doo-fuss landlords to fix his A/C?”..Some wise guy local put $5.00 bucks in saying ‘never’, but whether he’s right or not; he’s now ‘under my radar’, as I hold the controls of ‘who-guides and who-doesn’t’ -based on a stroke of my pencil.
(Update: I now have a working ‘swamp cooler’! –Ridicule worked for once...and me and the girls are ‘not so hot’; I should say?)
…………………..
Rule 5 (this is for fellow idiots especially) – Once you land a job in a far away strange place, it’s advised you A) get sober, if you’re otherwise inclined to get fired for being drunk on jobs, B) know what the heck you’re talking about whether it’s brain surgery, dental hygiene, or in this case: fly fishing, C) be content in whatever positions given you, no matter how low on the totem pole it is, and D) keep your big mouth shut for a full year!!!……
I found myself ‘actually giving a hoot’ recently at work*, and the whole episode unnerved me to the point I instantly retreated into the area I call: ‘complete silence’; (it’s over near the t-shirt rack) where I’m unseen from the register and stayed till called to assist customers. Though not as it turns out, without first making me sound and appear as possibly the most deranged and certifiable lunatic in Fort Smith (which is saying a lot)?!
*Don’t do this, if you can help it?
I’d been noticing a couple guides from ‘The Wrangler’ (a competitor’s fly shop) on my block, which caught me by surprise since none of them live over there; so I thought ‘they must be picking up clients’? …Sure enough I spotted one the very morning in question and he was parked in front of our shop’s rental-house called ‘Early Risers Cabin’, which sat adjacent my own dilapidated singlewide.
I was sure the guests staying there were ‘our clients’ as I’d checked them in myself. Their name: McKeon as I keenly recalled, was part of a massive booking of over 26 trips for the trucking company-MAC and I instantly thought: ‘that son of a gun Derrick is up to his old tricks again; stealing clients by under-cutting us big time’
?!Instead of being serenely relaxed -awakening from slumber gradually as most humans do; I found myself in the shower and furious as usual! I can’t for the life of me describe why, but it’s not the first time I’ve yelled at the soap rack and punched the shower curtain, while slinging a wash cloth into the corner of the tub; angered as if I was in ‘heated debate’ while standing there naked and otherwise unattractive -much to the confusion of Suzie and Boca who retreat having grown used to such outbursts behind the crazy-curtain?
By the time I got to work the words had been well-rehearsed and I was convinced I was onto something important, ‘news worthy’, and potentially devastating to the company (and especially my hours) in the coming months; all dependent on how many customers or trips we had booked. I was thinking if I shared this information and we stopped it before it started, regaining the future-trips ‘obviously stolen’, it would fare well for me as an employee; one worthy of managerial-salary or at least an increase to a livable wage?
…‘That valued employee-who sincerely cares about the fly shop’s future’ is how I envisioned myself.
Unfortunately, or fortunate rather, neither Geoff nor Donnie (the owners) was present, and instead Pat was the only one in the shop when I arrived. As I began ’my rant’ he stood there and smirked and lazily glared at me as if all of his geriatric medications were coursing through his veins at the same time and dizzying him to the point of slumber.
“I’m tellin ya he’s stealing our clients! That’s the McKeons they’re with that guy who has ‘twenty trips booked with us’?!”
“Well, it’ll all work out in the end.” Pat said.
“What? Are you kidding? Twenty trips ‘in this economy’ and all you’re gonna do is say ‘oh well’?”
“It’s not like we have that many vacancies left anyway?” Pat said flipping thru the book and both of us staring at half-blank pages.
“Sure there are. Look at that and there too; there are lots of openings! ….Heck we’re cancelling guides right and left, my hours are cut because of it, the guides are ticked, we’re losing money if this kid takes em!”
“Well, what are you gonna do?” he said as he always does. ‘What an idiot’ I thought; ‘same reason why my hours were allowed to be taken by the evil mistress-Terry (a former coworker), while he meekly stood by and let her erase me from the schedule’?
“This is UNBELIEVABLE! You don’t care whether we lose the entire account to a punk who underbid us, after we’ve been booking most of the trips and to top it off; he’s having them stay ‘in our lodging’ instead of his own horrendous motel?!”
“You know, it all has a way of working itself out in the end.” He said tilting his little head to the side and the familiar smirk where his crow’s feet and every other wrinkle in his face squeezes itself into a prune of indifference.
“For Heaven’s sakes that’s got to be a $10,000.00 booking?!... So were gonna let the whole McKeon - MAC account get stolen while we stand here and do nothing? …How ridiculous is that!?”
“Oh wait, no they’re not the McKeon’s with the MAC account; that’s ‘McKean’, it’s a different family, spelt with an ‘a’; McKeon is a common name out here in Montana. The MAC account is something else. …He has booked several trips with us and he’s not going anywhere!”
“Oh…?
…huh…sorry, guess I was wrong.”
………………….
And see, right there; ‘perfect example’ of why I should always remain an ‘em-ploy-ee’ and never ever a manager of anything?! Not even a little old fly shop on an Indian Reservation in the middle of nowhere…. As apparently, and I think most around these parts would agree, I’m ‘a complete idiot
!’I’ve quit arguing with people when they call me this, even to my face. The sooner we all grasp this, the better for the continuation of this series of short-stories at least. Hey, ‘you are what you are’- who am I to argue with the masses?
…This is also a perfect example, not like you needed anymore, why I’ve also spent nearly half my life as an ‘unemployed-idiot’?...
………………….
When ambition has struck in the past, it was usually at the worst times. Like on a plantation with total morons and misfits who didn’t give a hoot about anything; ‘there I was completely immersed in trying desperately to make a difference and profit’? Whereas when I was in NYC or LA, and otherwise should have been completely focused on the task of becoming the greatest photographer I’d ever dreamt to be; instead I was often found incarcerated or face down in a sewer with puke in my ears and a bloody nose, though no one in sight-and having ‘clearly been beat-up’ at some point throughout the night
?Now, I’m an employee at a little old fly shop in Montana and have wholeheartedly embraced my worthlessness. When things go wrong, a schedule screw up, someone locked out of their room all night, or the weather causes cancellations, I just shrug my shoulders and go home at the end of the day without a care otherwise? Just like Bubba and Willie did at the plantation, I sleep soundly assured someone else will deal with it; and if they don’t…well that’s fine too.
…………………..
