Cowboy Killers

Last night, I had the pleasure of attempting to sell to the Marlboro Man himself.

You may be reading this, thinking the Marlboro Man is dead. Sure, if you want to weigh yourself down with actual facts you have the upper hand in this debate. Darrell Winfield is dead and has been since 2015.

However, for those of us versed in the immortal words of Babe Ruth in The Sandlot, we know that “legends never die.”

So, when I walked into Darrell’s modular home in rural North Carolina last night, I knew I was sitting next to the Marlboro Man himself.

The immediate embrace of cigarette smoke lingering throughout the house gave it the cozy feel of an overflowing ashtray.

I sat down on his soft, fabric couch enriched by the perfume of years of indoor smoking pleasure and felt my poisonous laundry detergent immediately surrender to the power of those classic Marlboro Reds.

Darrell reached for his pack of Reds from his one-pocket t-shirt and fired-up.

One-pocket t-shirts.

I didn’t realize these were still in circulation. I wondered if Darrell had them special ordered.

Maybe, Marlboro sold their sales data to struggling clothing manufacturers of these forgotten cotton gems who then targeted smokers. The sale was inevitable. Where else could you keep a constant supply of cigarettes readily accessible? It’s just not acceptable to roll them in your sleeve like a greaser anymore.

“I don’t know if you smoke,” said Darrell, “but if you do, I say smoke ’em if you got ‘em.”

A classic line for a classic man. You really are the Marlboro Man, Darrell.

We then spoke at length.

Actually, Darrell spoke. When in the presence of a legend, you want to soak in his cigarette smoke and his worldly knowledge equally.

Shockingly, the Marlboro man lived alone. The bachelor clearly craved some leisurely conversation with someone other than his dog after working all day. And, since it was equally clear to me I was lucky enough to be in the presence of a legend, who would in no way be making a purchase tonight (or ever), I eagerly listened to all his meandering thoughts, not at all worried about the 75-minute drive back to my resting place for the night.

How could I even think of being impatient as, cigarette after chain-smoking cigarette, we covered essential topics:

• Building remote control cars, planes, and helicopters
• The proper way to stream TV over the internet
• The lack of a need for 100MPS internet speed when 35MPS would suffice
• The excellence of Play-station’s Call of Duty due to the sounds of shooting someone in the head
• Jennifer Aniston’s stripper scenes in We’re The Millers
• How to properly execute your duty as a dirt inspector for the DOT (with visual aids)
• A dog show exhibiting all of the tricks his well-trained dog could perform
• The taste-testing of authentic German chocolate given to him by his neighbor
• Being the captain of the first-place billiards team in the Wednesday night league

There were more topics. I am sure of it, but the magical ambience of a smoke-filled room shared with a legend was more than my tiny brain could handle. It was impossible to retain all of this knowledge. Only the finest of information would last.

As Darrell took a break from smoking and talking to engage in his nightly dose of Blue Bunny Cookies N’ Cream ice cream, we wrapped-up the finer details of the job never to be sold.

I pet his dog Lady once more before tearing myself away from this mystical evening and drove away in a state of wonder:  Can dogs get lung cancer?

How We Do Business

“This is not how we like to do business,” said Mr. Stickershock, as his four children ran around screaming, falling, climbing in his lap, and being chased by his wife.

“When we do business we like to get a sitter and sit down and talk about things where we can concentrate.”

Really. Is that how you like to do “business.” Give me a break, pal. You scheduled this appointment. You knew the date and time I would be here.

Your mother in-law left 5-minutes after I arrived.

I hope your “business” isn’t poker because you are terrible at bluffing.

This meeting has been going on for nearly two hours. Your kids have been crazy the entire time. It has not distracted me or you until it came time to put your money on the table.

The second you realized you couldn’t afford it, you were scrambling for a reason why because you weren’t man enough to just say you couldn’t afford it and let our “business” come to an end honestly.

“This is not how we like to do business.”

I gave you a price range when I sat down with you two hours ago. You sat there as though you could afford it.

Two hours later, when the price falls in that range, you are blaming your kids on your inability to make the purchase.

What “business” do you do? The fact you are even using the term “how we do business” about purchasing this item is idiotic. We are not brokering a business transaction. You are a homeowner who was interested in buying an item for his home.

We aren’t starting a corporate relationship here.

Oh, and by the way, no one does “business” like this, with their four kids screaming all around them.

That’s why daycares and business offices exist separately.

Best of luck in all of your future business transactions Mr. Big Time.

Hide & Go Seek

The other day I had an 8:00 a.m. appointment roughly 90-minutes from my hotel.

Now, I usually wake-up around 5:00 a.m. - 5:30 a.m. to get a little workout in before I begin my day. The early wake-up time was no big deal. It’s just starting the day with a 90-minute drive rather than an early morning run, or workout of some sort, which casts a much different shadow on the alarm clock buzzing.

No big deal.

I am a grown man after all. Lots of people have it worse than driving 90-minutes early in the morning every once in a while.

I woke up, got ready, and hit the road.

It was a nice calm morning on the road and an easy drive - all highway and no rush hour traffic. I was heading away from civilization.

This was actually quite relaxing.

When I arrived to the appointment, I gathered my things and headed to the door with a positive attitude and a smile.

The front door was glass. The kind of glass you can see through, but it makes everything appear as though you are looking through a kaleidoscope.

I rang the doorbell and immediately saw a figure approaching the door. It appeared to be a female.

I straightened-up and got ready to greet her with a smile.

The figure hunched-over and stared at me through the glass.

I smiled and waived.

Then, as if she thought she was invisible, she immediately ran from the doorway, shut all the lights to the house, and hid out of sight.

I waited a moment and then called the number listed for the house. Maybe, I am at the wrong house.

Not a chance. I could hear the phone ringing and my voice on the answering machine explaining who I was.

I waited for a few minutes to see how long this game of hide and seek would last.

There was no end in sight.

Whatever relaxation I felt during my 90-minute drive was gone. I confirmed this appointment days ago. I cannot believe this person is literally hiding from me. She could have easily called to cancel the appointment.

I left and went on with my day.

At about 7:00 p.m., as I drove back to my hotel, I answered a call. It was the gentleman who confirmed my 8:00 a.m. appointment with me days ago.

“I am so sorry. I forgot about the appointment this morning.”

I put on my most polite voice while mentally envisioning myself telling this joker what I really wanted to say- a skill I mastered during my days in education, both as a teacher and as an administrator.

“Oh, really, because someone was home. They came to the door, then ran away, shut the lights, and hid. It’s a shame because I drove 90-minutes to see you this morning.”

“Well,” he said in a relatively defensive tone. “These things happen.”

“Yes, sir. I guess they do.”

“Can you come back out tomorrow?”

“No, sir. My schedule is fully booked, but I will be sure the office calls to reschedule you (and I will be sure it is not with me). Have great evening.”

Traveling Gym Fails #1

My career in education, like any career, had it’s perks and it’s hindrances. One perk, was the ability to access a national fitness program, which gave me access to gyms all over the country.

Once I entered the program and started paying for my membership, I was locked-in. It didn’t matter if I continued to be employed by the state and have the same health plan or not.

When I worked in education, even when I moved to Austin, this basically meant I could gym hop all over town. It was great for mixing up my routine and seeing which local gyms I preferred. I researched gyms along my commute and had the option to to escape the horrendous Austin traffic. I would grab a workout and hit the road once it was a little less slammed, or I was a little less apt to lose my mind.

Since I began bouncing back and forth between Austin and the southeast coast, this membership has paid off tenfold. Well more in worth than the cost of my monthly membership.

It gives me access to major gym chains. Once I am linked with one, I have access to all of them. While there are a lot of people who do not like major gym chains, I am not one of them.

I like the general consistency of equipment and options, as well as the size of the gym and number of machines. I am often dropping-in to grab a quick workout. I do not want to be bothered talking to anyone or waiting for my turn on the only leg press machine in the gym.

I have noticed though, just like any chain restaurant or gas station, the difference in ownership or management, can mean a large difference in quality.

Despite my love for these gyms and their conveniences, I have had my share of not-so-precious moments.

As I was preparing these, the list kept growing, so I’m going to break these up into smaller pieces and let you digest one Traveling Gym Fail at a time:

Shower Power

There’s nothing quite like jumping in the shower, rinsing off from your workout, then reaching for the soap dispenser only to see someone else’s short and curly right on the button you need to hit to get your soap.

After the initial near dry heave reaction while simultaneously jerking my hand away from the dispenser like it was going to jump out and bite me, it was time to quickly develop a plan. I need that soap, but I do not want anything to do with the pube covered button.

Gym showers do not always have the best water pressure or the ability to aim the shower head, and this shower stall was no exception to that rule.

After what seemed like 5-minutes of cupping handfuls of water and aiming them at the stubborn little hair, I was finally able to wash him away and get some soap.

Look for these traveling gym fails to continue to make appearances, as I do not see any shortage of material occurring.