around his waist as we head off in search of the marine store.
Nothing goes the way I anticipate once we arrive at the boat place. First, Terry Kent, the salesperson, isn’t the gentle, older man I’d pictured in my head. Instead, he’s a pimply turd of a teenager dripping with attitude and a false sense of empowerment because he knows he has me between a rock and a hard place. I want a refund on the purchase, but according to Terry, it isn’t an option. Adding insult to injury, I’m threatened with additional charges if the boat isn’t removed from their property by the close of the business day. I plead, argue, and fight to no avail. Asking to speak to the manager is a joke because Terry IS the manager. Asking to speak to the owner is even worse because Terry’s dad owns the joint. Defeated, I ask to see my boat.
Terry tosses down the cell phone he’s been paying attention to instead of me, and begins an attitude-laden walk outside a double door that leads into a lot full of boats. He’s practically sprinting, but I drag my feet as he impatiently stops and stands next to a brand new bass boat. Fletcher reaches him before I do, and I don’t know what exactly is said, but he’s much nicer when I finally catch up.
“ This is the boat my grandfather bought?” I ask with disbelief. “How much?”
“I’m supposed to say that the cost doesn’t matter, it’s taken care of,” Terry says in absolute monotone.
“Fletcher?” I say, nodding him aside, “How much do you think a boat like this runs?”
“At least twenty-five grand.”
I close my eyes and sigh. “That’s more than I thought.” I amplify my voice, “How did he pay for this?” I ask Terry.
“It was a cash sale. No returns.”
“Yeah, I know. You made that perfectly clear while inside, Terry.” My tone drips with disdain. “How am I going to get this home?” I ask Fletcher.
“We’ll go to my place and pick up my truck. Then we’ll come here, get the boat, and bring it to Ben’s camp. He’s got plenty of room out there to store it.”
“I’m really not used to this. I always do things on my own, but I honestly see no way for me to handle this one by myself.”
“Hey, don’t get all weird about this. It’s not that big of a deal.”
“It is to me,” I argue.
“It is to you only .”
I give a half smile before telling Terry that we’d be back shortly for the boat. He couldn’t care less, and he hurriedly makes his way back into the air conditioned show room.
Back on Fletcher’s bike we go, and suddenly I’m a little nervous and excited because this will be my first time seeing where Fletcher lives. We leave the congestion of the city and end up at a really nice apartment complex nestled deep down a tree-laden path. He stops in front of the garage door of one of the townhouses closest to the road, and once the door is fully opened, he parks the bike next to a huge black pickup truck.
“I didn’t know this complex existed. These are so nice and quiet compared to where I’m at.”
“Yeah, ideally, I’d have my own place in the middle of nowhere, but this does okay.”
I hand him the helmet I’d been wearing, and he puts it on the seat of his bike. “Nice truck,” I say, running my hand down the side of the spotless vehicle.
“Thanks. I guess it’s pretty obvious that I don’t use it all that often. This is pretty much where it stays.”
“I’m sorry you have to break it out for me.”
“I’m not. Did you want something from inside before we go? A drink? Snack?”
Curiosity gets the best of me, so I ask for some water just so I can check out his place. The first thing I notice is how impressively neat the townhouse is. Everything has a place, and there’s not so much as a magazine thrown on the floor or haphazardly tossed onto the coffee table. The second thing I notice is that everything is pretty generic. Neutral
Nothing goes the way I anticipate once we arrive at the boat place. First, Terry Kent, the salesperson, isn’t the gentle, older man I’d pictured in my head. Instead, he’s a pimply turd of a teenager dripping with attitude and a false sense of empowerment because he knows he has me between a rock and a hard place. I want a refund on the purchase, but according to Terry, it isn’t an option. Adding insult to injury, I’m threatened with additional charges if the boat isn’t removed from their property by the close of the business day. I plead, argue, and fight to no avail. Asking to speak to the manager is a joke because Terry IS the manager. Asking to speak to the owner is even worse because Terry’s dad owns the joint. Defeated, I ask to see my boat.
Terry tosses down the cell phone he’s been paying attention to instead of me, and begins an attitude-laden walk outside a double door that leads into a lot full of boats. He’s practically sprinting, but I drag my feet as he impatiently stops and stands next to a brand new bass boat. Fletcher reaches him before I do, and I don’t know what exactly is said, but he’s much nicer when I finally catch up.
“ This is the boat my grandfather bought?” I ask with disbelief. “How much?”
“I’m supposed to say that the cost doesn’t matter, it’s taken care of,” Terry says in absolute monotone.
“Fletcher?” I say, nodding him aside, “How much do you think a boat like this runs?”
“At least twenty-five grand.”
I close my eyes and sigh. “That’s more than I thought.” I amplify my voice, “How did he pay for this?” I ask Terry.
“It was a cash sale. No returns.”
“Yeah, I know. You made that perfectly clear while inside, Terry.” My tone drips with disdain. “How am I going to get this home?” I ask Fletcher.
“We’ll go to my place and pick up my truck. Then we’ll come here, get the boat, and bring it to Ben’s camp. He’s got plenty of room out there to store it.”
“I’m really not used to this. I always do things on my own, but I honestly see no way for me to handle this one by myself.”
“Hey, don’t get all weird about this. It’s not that big of a deal.”
“It is to me,” I argue.
“It is to you only .”
I give a half smile before telling Terry that we’d be back shortly for the boat. He couldn’t care less, and he hurriedly makes his way back into the air conditioned show room.
Back on Fletcher’s bike we go, and suddenly I’m a little nervous and excited because this will be my first time seeing where Fletcher lives. We leave the congestion of the city and end up at a really nice apartment complex nestled deep down a tree-laden path. He stops in front of the garage door of one of the townhouses closest to the road, and once the door is fully opened, he parks the bike next to a huge black pickup truck.
“I didn’t know this complex existed. These are so nice and quiet compared to where I’m at.”
“Yeah, ideally, I’d have my own place in the middle of nowhere, but this does okay.”
I hand him the helmet I’d been wearing, and he puts it on the seat of his bike. “Nice truck,” I say, running my hand down the side of the spotless vehicle.
“Thanks. I guess it’s pretty obvious that I don’t use it all that often. This is pretty much where it stays.”
“I’m sorry you have to break it out for me.”
“I’m not. Did you want something from inside before we go? A drink? Snack?”
Curiosity gets the best of me, so I ask for some water just so I can check out his place. The first thing I notice is how impressively neat the townhouse is. Everything has a place, and there’s not so much as a magazine thrown on the floor or haphazardly tossed onto the coffee table. The second thing I notice is that everything is pretty generic. Neutral
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