Posted 2/01/12 (Wed)
Man, I just about missed it. My article, that is. Calving those March calving heifers, poker tournaments, hotshot business, happy hours….church. Well, you see how it is. Thank goodness, Ekalaka let me know!
I think what I need is a boss. I haven’t had many in my life. Oh, Dad bosses a little. Shirley bosses a little. The first sergeant used to boss a little, a long, long time ago. I never really had a job. Well, I had one, but the boss fired me. And I did have a pretty darn good horse named Boss. So I’m not sure if a boss would work around here. I guess maybe I’m unemployable.
And I don’t really enjoy being the boss myself. I never really liked firing people. I just paid them to hang around. Oh, I fired Paul once. But then the next day, while I was lying under a combine, holding a variable speed pulley up with one arm and trying to replace a bearing, Paul crawled under the combine and suggested he stick around till after harvest. Seemed like a heck of an idea. And he stuck around for another 20 years. Oh, I fired him plenty of times, but he always kept coming to work. He was smarter than I and knew he kind of held things together.
So, I guess maybe my genetics are being passed on to the younger generation, Evan and RJ.
I’ve impressed upon them that I am the boss. Well, Bruce Springsteen is actually The Boss. But if Bruce and I aren’t here, Grandma is the boss. Actually, they knew that I was reversing our roles, but they were too polite to mention it. And Evan wanted to know who Springsteen was. Poor kid has led a sheltered life. Sheltered from the classics.
Evan and RJ are five and three years old. Two of my grandkids. I know, you think I’m too young to have grandchildren, but I’m older than I act.
Anyway, their dad was bringing them home from preschool last week. And trust me, we do not drive in oil country without the kids being strapped in car seats, wearing a flak jacket and football helmets. Well, at least in the car seats.
RJ, the three-year-old, visits pretty darn good for a kid and Will hears him say to Evan, “Evan, I hate bosses.”
When Evan didn’t reply, RJ again stated, “I hate bosses. Do you hate bosses, Evan?”
Evan thought it over a bit and stated matter-of-factly, “Actually, I don’t really hate bosses, but I’m not a big fan of them either!”
So, I guess I’m going to mellow out a bit. Maybe not play the boss-role quite so hard. Practice bossing fence posts and rocks and immovable objects. Ones that don’t talk back. I think that in another 20 or 30 years, I could get the hang of it.
I’ve got to quit now and practice my poker. I know you’ll find this hard to believe, but I played in a tournament in Bowman yesterday, and I placed. I know that was good. I don’t do it often, but to let Willard from Rhame beat me! That’s unforgivable, even for a Boss.