Let Me Taste Your Wares

 Gaboo recalls an autumn experience for this thanksgiving season…

 

Part-time job picking apples for one of my old man’s bar buddies. The guy owned a stitch on a hillside and procured himself a decent crop.

A country drive, and Mr Apples is showing me the trees. Says “pick down this row,” and demonstrates how to twist off apples with a little snap. Keep the stem and leave the leaves. Easy.

Hi ho, traipse the garden, stuff my gut and be like Luke Ladderwalker. I work and work, pick and pick, bag, dump, bag, pick, pluck, dump and eat apples for six hours. By two, I filled nearly three quarters of a bin and went to find the farmer. I’d finish next day and make a few bucks.

Good day to be a working man.

Mr Apples was leaning next to a beater red tractor and talking with this old dude who’d been plucking five rows over. They’re having chat and he, my boss, asks, “How many bins you pick?”

“Nearly a full one. I’ll finish it tomorrow.” I’m figuring that’s an awesome production quota.

The two guys laugh. “Chuck here, he picked nine bins,” says Apples.

Holy shit. Nine bins? I’m an idiot.

“You wanna work here?” Apples asks.

“Uh, yeah, sure. I can do better.” The whole situation was still gelling—I’d have to pick my ass off to keep up.

Solemn ride home in the truck.

Next day, I go at it. Pick, pick pick. Pluck, pluck, pluck. By eleven I topped my earlier bin and was a good way into a second. I’m doing o-kay.

The farmer stops by.

“Chuck is a little sick, I’m going to give him a ride home. You alright?”

“No problems.”

Chuck’s sick. Bonus, a chance to take on the old guy fair, but I couldn’t pick seven bins in four hours. I couldn’t imagine how Chuck did it. He was a phenom.

Then I got bright. I shook a branch and a half dozen apples bounced off the ground. Pick, pick, pick. Pluck, pluck, pluck. This is a genius moment. In five minutes, I was shaking the shit out of the next tree and moving on to a third. Bins began filling at an impressive pace.

When the farmer walked up, I was looking pretty casual.

“How many bins you do?”

“Six.”

Apples starts looking over the works, inspecting with his eagle apple eye. “Show me how you pick these.”

So, I did. Started shaking the shit out the tree in front of him—and harvesting my bounty.

Man, that guy screamed and yelled. What an ass.

Solemn ride home. No more apples for me.

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One Response to “Let Me Taste Your Wares”
  1. adminnow says:

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