A Virginia Numbers Man

 

They say it is simply charming to live “where everybody knows your name.”

My nearby little town of Lexington, Virginia is like that, with one big difference.  There is a place in town where names don’t count – only numbers – membership numbers.  It’s the Rockbridge Farmers’ Co-op!

We have been gassing up the car at our local Farmer’s Cooperative for years and I actually forgot how to do-it- myself since the Co-Op insists on full service.  Now (being  spoiled  and pampered) I simply pull up to a pump and well –  wait.  Who could ask for anything more?

And along comes JOBIE, efficiently taking care of things while I wait and daydream, and when all is done, he hands me the receipt.  The bill then comes to Bill but to me, the gasoline is always free!

How is that remarkable?

 JOBIE KNOWS MY NUMBER.

IT’S A FIVE DIGIT MEMBERSHIP NUMBER.

AND JOBIE KNOWS IT BY HEART

                                           (ALONG WITH THOUSANDS OF OTHER NUMBERS)!

                                           and 

                                       JOBIE NEVER FORGETS!

 Is there something about my face?  Is that how he does it?

Does he recognize the peculiar dents and scratches on my car? 

Is it the license plate?  Naw.  That’s another set of numbers.

I  asked him how he recalls membership numbers out of the thousands of cars and people who come through.  And he simply shrugs and says, “Don’t know…. Just do.”

I am amazed!  I have been amazed for all these years and always hatching diabolical plans to mess him up.

Like when Bill and I go away on vacation I figure Jobie will forget the number.  “Out of sight, out of mind” doesn’t work though.  We can be away for weeks, maybe years.  He never forgets.

Lately I have been challenging him by saying, “I’ll bet someone else is getting my gas bill!”  And he just smiles.  But the truth is he never makes a mistake!

There is real hidden talent in this country and I have told Jobie he should look around for a television show to feature his rare gift.  He allowed me to take his picture but I don’t know what  t.v. show to send it to.  Perhaps you, in cyberspace, will recognize pure genius and suggest a way to put this talent to good use.

I am proud to introduce you to an impressive young fellow –  Jobie – a Virginia Numbers Man.

 

 

 

 

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Click Once to Cancel

We were at a restaurant.

We aimed our cell phone cameras.

We clicked at the same time

and cancelled ourselves out.

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Tale of Terror in a Horse Pasture

It was reported that a naked woman, bleeding from the shoulders, was seen running in terror through my neighbor’s pasture – a horror story for sure.  The report was called in to our local sheriff and I don’t know what action was taken, but rumor has it the real story was somewhat different.

As you may have noticed, part of the fun of living in the country is in observing people with idiosyncrasies?  You have to be slightly strange to live in our neighborhood and of course my husband and I are the only normal persons residing here.

One of our very sweet neighbors has a crow’s nest (different from crow’s feet), which is a viewing area at the top of her house that allows her to see far off into distant horse pastures.  Things from a distance look closer than they are.  Isn’t that the message on the rear view mirrors of your car?  Well, Louise (name changed to protect the innocent) saw what she saw.  And what she saw was a terrified naked woman bleeding from the shoulders and running for her life.  And that is what she reported to the sheriff.

Later it was learned that a horsewoman named Jan (name also changed), clad in tan riding breeches and a tan blouse with red designs on the shoulders, had lost her horse.  She dismounted for some reason and the horse got “spooked” and took off.  Jan ran after him to keep sight of his approximate direction. She knew when he calmed down, he would respond to her whistle.

So, picture this:  a naked woman (actually clad in tan riding clothes), running for her life (really running across the pasture after her horse), bleeding from her shoulders (actually red designs on the shoulders of her blouse).  Add imagination and the distance to a crow’s nest and you have “Terror in a Horse Pasture,” an apt name for a prize winning, fictional thriller.

And later, “All was well,” said Jan with a grin, “I got my horse back in good time. And I suppose from a distance, you might think I was bleeding and maybe naked too.”

Well, it makes for fine dinner conversation among us normal folks in the country.

Country Tip for City Dudes:

Things are never what they seem.

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