There are good surprises, like going to the grocery store with just enough money in your pocket to buy ground chuck, only to discover T-Bones are on sale. Then there are bad surprises, like coming home from work to find both your mother-in-law and her eggplant casserole parked at your kitchen table.
Surprise hating kids of all ages will shimmy and shake every present under the tree to remove the mystery from Christmas morning. While others will not even touch their gift for fear the weight or feel will spoil their yuletide magic.
To surprise or not to surprise. It can be a polarizing subject on matters such as sonograms and the gender of a baby.
Me? My stance is firm. Both feet are planted in the soil of it’s better to be surprised camp.
But I’m not stupid. I realize there are exceptions. Twenty five people jumping out at a 90 year old woman is never a good idea, even if it is her birthday.
Now I’m still a good many years shy of 90, but if I’m truthful I’ve had my share of life threatening surprises … like my employment at Pearl’s Feed and Seed. I went to work at the dusty Texas feedstore at the tender age of 16. My boss was, and is, the most morally bankrupt man I’d ever met, but I didn’t know that when quite surprisingly, I landed the job that changed my life..
Here is a scene from my recently published book THE FEEDSTORE CHRONICLES which explains how I came to claim a job I never set out to have.
There we were, talking to Doyle, when Hunter opened his mouth
and said, “Are you hiring? I need a job, and it would be bad-ass
to work here.”
I don’t know what overcame me. Maybe it was the sun streaking
through the fly-specked window. Or the dust motes floating lazily
around Doyle’s head. Heck, maybe it was just the fact I didn’t
really like Hunter Tomkins, but for whatever reason, a compulsion
hit me. “Doyle already promised to hire me,” I blurted. As if
willing him to go along with my lie, I stared Doyle straight in the
eye. “Didn’t you?”
The corner of Doyle’s lip curled upward in a smile. Winking at
me, he said, “Yes, I did. Travis starts Saturday morning at seven thirty.”
Doyle later confessed he hadn’t really needed to hire more help,
but he’d been impressed by the way I’d cock-blocked Hunter.
He also told me my arrival had royally pissed off Jerry, his lone
employee before I hit the scene. I soon found out, Doyle enjoyed
few things more than annoying those foolish enough to call him
Here is the blurb from the back of the book.
If The Feedstore Chronicles brand of comedic mischief and morally ambiguous hijinks, sounds like something you, or someone you know would enjoy order a copy or ten for all those on your Christmas list. And if they happen to be surprise-hating, package shakers fill the box with marbles. That will show ‘em.