In my 37 years, I have learned only one real truth in life . . . certain men are crazy about their yards and grass. My boss, Dr. Williams, happens to be one of those fellas. I catered a fancy party at The Williams’ house one Christmas. I was manning the punchbowl, trying to look invisible, while 5 male grass extremists discussed suing their mowing company for introducing crabgrass into their yards from a “contaminated neighbor.” Remember the “Sally’s Got Cooties” game from grade school? The upper-class version of this game is “Dr. Highland Has Crabgrass.” It’s the game played at all the elite parties.
Before I started working from home full-time, I worked in a business park. One of our business neighbors was “The Weed Man.” (I always found the business title funny, and I think it’s a small miracle that college students weren’t camped outside his door 24/7).
Dr. Williams would announce, “Give me the key; I’m going to the mailbox.” He’d then disappear for hours. If we needed him, we knew where to find him. He would go & sit with The Weed Man everyday, and they’d talk about the evils of creeping Charlie, dandelions, and knotweed. My friend & former co-worker, Shermetta, had just purchased a new home fairly close to the office, and Dr. Williams was worried about her weeds (in much the same way that a preacher worries about your soul). I can’t be positive, but I believe it kept him awake at night.
Well, one weekend, The Weed Man showed up at Shermetta’s house. He offered to kill her weeds for a small fee. The problem – instead of having a yard filled with green weeds, Shermetta ended up with ½ of her yard being dead and brown. The wheels of time have turned and her weeds have since grown back, her yard is once again fully green, and the Earth can continue spinning. But, I remain convinced to this very day that that wasn’t a normal door-to-door sales call. I believe Dr. Williams sent The Weed Man to stalk Shermetta. He might be in the bushes right now . . . lurking with his sprayer.
