Friday, July 31, 2009

No, actually. But you can kiss my ass.

Can I pick your brain.

If there are 5 words I hate more than those I don't know what they are, except for maybe, 'The speculum may feel cold' or, 'Hi, this is Revenue Canada' or, 'It's not you, it's me'.

Funny how it only takes a few words to set the tone of the day. This very morning, the first five words out of Jack's mouth – before his crusty eyes were fully open – were, 'Can you take me golfing.'

I quickly followed with, "Go back to bed, asshole".

It's been a long summer, plagued by too much rain and not enough work. I don't do boredom well, so let's skip August and bring on September. Even Jack's lawn mowing enterprise has been derailed by Mother Nature. Yesterday, with threatening thunderclouds, I drove him to one of his jobs. While he got busy on the front lawn, I wandered around the back to move hockey nets and the occasional pile of dog shit out of his path. I peeked in the shed for a whipper snipper and eyed their lawn mower, so I cranked it up and started on the back.

I always mowed lawns as a kid. My hatred for small children pretty much ruled out babysitting and camp counseling, so mowing lawns was a dream job by comparison. I even worked in the local graveyard for several years, so consider myself to be somewhat of a lawn mowing aficionado. And I take pride in my work.

As I was happily working my way around the back yard, it dawned on me that Jack was making about $80 bucks an hour. Well, not continuously, but at $20 bucks a lawn, with an average of 15 minutes per cut, that's pretty good money. Plus, there's no tax man, it's cash in hand, no one ever asks for a deal, and people are generally very appreciative. Never once has someone called him to say, "Jack old boy, I have a very important meeting this afternoon and I was wondering if you could you drop everything, come over and walk around in circles in my back yard, pushing that machine with a whirling blade, keeping in mind, I have no intention of paying you, but I need to look good, plus everyone will see what an amazing job you have done for me and want to hire you, so you can thank me later".

Jack does mow a few pro-bono lawns out of the goodness of his heart (I make him), but no one ever calls him to say, "Jack, I hear you are the best lawn mower in town, and I was wondering if you could put aside all your paying jobs and come right over now, and mow your heart out for this incredibly good cause. Think of the exposure. You can thank me later".

So, I know it's late in the season, but I am going in to the lawn mowing business. Fuck Jack, he leaves slivers of grass uncut, and besides, I'll do it $5 bucks cheaper. And, the first five callers get a free hand job, because after all, it's how you market yourself, and I'm a genius with the hedge clippers.

You can thank me later.

For a free estimate call Kiss My Grass at 422-0712. If Jack answers, hang up.