In General

Working in a general store isn't that bad, at least that's what I tell myself.

Seriously though, it has been so long since I last stepped foot outside this wretched, dilapidated shop. You know, I really wanted to be a cashier for a lousy shop, but it was all ruined by my father.

"Get your ragged tail up and make somethin' of yourself," he'd yell at me.

"I'm not going to live and work in this dump anymore! You old man! Not to mention, you wouldn't even pay me anyway," I'd scream in return.

He would then storm out and proceed to chop wood with the force of ten men. I had a rather large mouth around my father, but I just couldn't help it. Being in the same place for years on end isn't good for the soul. I was once a very talented and enthusiastic salesman back when the shop opened. I remember that day like no other.

A chilled fall afternoon wind began to make small storms of leaves throughout the field in front of our cottage. We were far from a wealthy family as we did not have enough money for many clothes, quality food, or anything of the such. Living far out from the local town didn't gift us many favors either. My father was an everyday farmer who may have been the poorest caretaker of crops on earth. If it was not for the assistance of little old me, Riley, and my older brother, George, lord knows what we would've done.

The shop opened on a Tuesday, the thirteenth to be exact. The moment my father brought the idea to the dinner table, I jumped up like there was a fire on my buttocks and thanked the lord for the opportunity to be able to finally make something of myself. We began to buy some lumber with the little money we had saved up over the course of a few months, and slowly but surely, we built a smallish shack on the side of the dirt road leading into town. I worked the first day of the opening, along with my George, while my father moved in supplies on the regular.

Our first customer came trotting down the path at rather slow pace. He seemed a bit parched, so I obliged him to come in and buy himself something to drink.

"You there sir! You seemed to be requiring a fine drink on your travels," the salesman quality in me coming into fruition, "We have many a drink in our brand-new general store for the common Joe or a weary traveler like yourself."

He stopped, pondered a minute, and then agreed to my suggestion. He walked in very bright eyed, while scanning the room for something to fill his needs. He spotted a bottle of fine brandy on the shelf and said, "Yep, imma need that right there, yes siree." Happy to lend a helping hand, I reached for the bottle and rang him up for $1.50. He proceeded to rub his grizzled beard and decide that he needed one of the satchels hanging from the coat rack in front of the counter. Adding the total together, I gave him a firm handshake and a "Come back again!" He replied with, "Oh you betcha tail I will."

 It may be safe to say that that was the proudest that I've ever been with myself.

The store continued to catch the eyes of many and grew at a prosperous rate. I counted 23 people in there one day. However, as the old saying goes, what's good never lasts forever. This applied to our shop all too well. It was 1 year and 4 months into the business and our supplies were running drastically low. Sure, we hit some bumps every now and then, but this was on a whole other level. Pa wouldn't use our profits to buy more food or leather or anything of the sort for the shop. He was relishing in his earnings from his newfound money maker, aka me, and was set in stone about being a farmer.

All the money I slaved over to get day in and day out was all wasted on crops and soil and farming equipment. For some odd reason he thought it was in his destiny to create the biggest farm in the county and supply the town with produce for the next 30 years. It was more like half a week. He tried his best to make it work, but he just wasn't educated to the point where he could make it on his own. There was nothing we could do about it either seeing as all we knew to do was dig ditches and put a measly seed in the ground.

It was safe to say that the family business was in a ditch of its own kind, and with my father now a “farmer” and my brother on the brink of leaving this place all behind him, it was up to me to do my best. Of course, the pride that my father held his whole life would stick to him like glue no matter what our financial situation was at the time. He would tell everyone at town how great the shop was doing, while everyone also knew it wasn't.

Another year slowly crept by and the shop ceased to be my pride and glory. It was a crypt of what used to be my passion. Father would try to get me back, but I just wouldn't go. It's amazing to me how glory can change in a moment’s notice, like it did for me. It felt like just yesterday when I was pursuing a possible dream and future investment into my future that would've propelled me into a level of fame; however, my gratification was only material. It only really returns when I picture the people who walked into the store, with that bell chiming, and then me jumping up to help them in need of assistance. Maybe one day in the future, I'll once again retain that same self-gratitude by becoming something of my own and doing what is needed for myself and others.

Because if there’s anything my father taught me, it’s to never give up.