Dear Readers,
I am proud to present my very first guest post by none other than my BFF Royce, partner in crime for many adventures. (That’s him on the right below.) He fancies himself a writer too, and I think you’ll agree that he’s got talent. It took his wife Sarah (that’s her next to him) and me more than a week of badgering to get this out of him. It was worth the wait. Enjoy!
Beth
Dear (former) leaf blower,
I retired you yesterday. Several weeks ago, you decided you had worked enough and quit, right in the middle of a job. You just stopped. No two-weeks notice, no “thanks for the opportunity, boss” chat. Nothing. I tried to convince you to stick around: fresh gas, clean air filter, extended time off. Yesterday, when I needed you most, with the yard on the line, you failed me yet again. Gave up with hardly a gasp, no effort whatsoever.
You really only have one purpose for your entire existence, you know: You blow air. That’s it. You were conceived for no other reason than to blow shit around. It’s why I chose you out of all of the others that day not so long ago. You presented so well in your glossy, eye-catching box splashed with pleasing colors and images of manicured lawns and sidewalks. You made me want you and the impossibly well-kept yard you obviously had no role in creating.
Charlatan, I say!
In the hours since your departure, it’s become painfully obvious to me that your time here was too easy, too much like a vacation. Your work days were short and scattered throughout any given season, with as much as three months off for winter break. Summer was admittedly the busiest time of year but even then you were called in two, three times a month, at most. I treated you well enough, I think. Granted, I didn’t bathe you weekly in warm, soapy water but you were treated with due care and respect. Arguably better than most, I would venture.
Rest assured I will not be making that mistake, again.
And no, I will not be a reference for you.
Regards,
Royce