Sunday, June 23, 2014

It appears it is going to be a hot summer.

A week or so the ladies were gathered in the lobby of the post office and discussing the lady cook at the Co-Op snack bar quitting because, she evidentially said “He’s never around when you need him and he takes days off whenever he wants and he sure won’t let us do that.”

Well. Quit the lady did.

Yesterday I was told that the manager of the Co-Op had moved on down the road. I’m not sure how deep the rot had spread, but storage fees for milo had gone up to a nickel a bushel.

Over the tenure of the manager, personnel have increased by quite a few, products for non-farm related things have increased; inventory has increased. The only way to fire the manager (if he was fired) is for the board to force him out or he resign.

I do know that many were not happy with him turning the place into a government feeling institution. Maybe the board did force him. He tried,  I know, to equal in performance the man he replaced, but it is difficult to out perform a man that served for thirty-five years and who took a company from rags to profit.

Even if the old man hung, on for an extra year tutoring the chosen younger man. Still, I wish him well if he saw another position  and went for it. Not everyone is personally suited to small town employment.

Dog broke the cable on his lead last night. Actually, he pulled the four inch hook from the pole I had it screwed into. He dragged a thirty foot lead around until it hung up in a cracked sidewalk before he started calling me.

That woke me up and I retrieved him about two a.m. all worked up. It was a long night for me. It took him about five hours t settle down and let me sleep.


From the reaches,

Ten Whiskey

About tenwhiskey

User tenwhiskey is also the author of this blog. He currently lives in small town Kansas in a semi-retired condition. His kids are married and gone (thank you). An empty nester. Divorced. Very happy with life as it is. Ten Mile maintains a personal blog here, writing of events as they appear to him; commentary, and opinions abound. He deviates into fiction as the mood strikes and creates flash fiction stories and short stories. He will not warn the reader when he drifts from fact to fiction. He feels adults are, generally, smart enough to figure out which is which. He does, however, attempt to make his fiction sound as true to life as possible. You have been warned. He, as time permits, writes and occasionally sells writing. More often than not he gives it away to various non-paying publishers of Ether Magazines, forums or for entertainment on a wall for in need of a hand friends. He likes candy, pies and a certain amount of strife. In the matter of strife - in his yourth on the farm, he became embroiled in a slinging fight. The fight involved lath as a launcher, fresh cow patties as ammo and it was a six way free for all. A little mud only adds (Umm?) a certain taste to life.
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