My husband and I are farmers and naturally live in a rural area. The central gathering place in small towns (think population 200 or less) is the co-op. Farmers' cooperative: A place where you can buy fertilizer, ag chemicals, bulk fuel, and seed. At the Farm Store, you can find tires, batteries, nuts and bolts, and sprayer fittings, as well as candy bars and cans of pop.
In addition to the merchandise, an area at our Farm Store has been set aside for guys to hang out and drink the free coffee. Sometimes they play dominoes at the tables.
A small town is where everyone knows everyone else and their dog. Neighbors are people who will do your chores if an emergency calls you away from the farm. People notice if you miss church and call to see if everything is okay. They notice if you trade pickup trucks or tractors. Forget about trying to keep any of your business private. Your neighbors know what your wheat and corn yielded or if your cattle are out practically before you find out yourself. They cry with you when hail destroys your crops or tornadoes blow your house away. They are also aware of unusual activity around your place and call to see if strangers had any legit reason to snoop around in your shed. You really can't resent the fact they know your entire life because you know theirs as well.
One day I accompanied my husband to the Farm Store. He disappeared into one of the offices to talk about the price of fertilizer with a salesman. The place was strangely deserted with none of the loafers sitting around the domino tables. No employees were hanging about looking for something to do either. I said hi to my friend behind the counter. I was literally standing in the middle of the store by myself. Due to this odd circumstance, only the clerk witnessed what happened next.
A neighbor (I'll call him Johnnie) came out of one of the other offices and started toward the retail sales counter. When he noticed me, he stopped and made a point to say, "Well, I see you haven't lost any weight, Lisa." I nearly burst out crying. I hadn't gained any lately either.
The clerk, whose mouth had dropped open upon hearing him, ducked behind the counter like it was a sandbagged foxhole. She peeked over the edge so she wouldn't miss the carnage. I refrained from committing any violence, but only because he was also a valued business associate.
About that time my husband finished jawing with the other salesman and walked up to me. Trying to pretend it was a joke I said, "Guess what? Johnnie here noticed I haven't lost any weight."
He looked back and forth between us with a wounded expression. I could tell he felt sorry for me but didn't know what to say in front of the other guy. Johnnie left, and the clerk slowly stood up. She looked as near to tears as I felt.
"I can't believe he said that!" she gasped. I couldn't get my mouth to work, so I shrugged and feigned indifference.
Occasionally, we mentioned the incident and wondered why he made such a rude personal remark. Nearly two years later he and my husband were talking crop business on the phone. I went into the office and sarcastically muttered that he should ask "Johnnie" if he had told any other women they were fat. My remark reminded my husband of the occasion, and he said into the phone, "You know, my wife still has hurt feelings over you telling her she hadn't lost any weight."
There was a long silence while I pantomimed that hubby shouldn't have taken my remark so literally and Johnnie consulted his memory banks. Finally, he said, "That was a compliment."
My husband couldn't even think of a response.
In the most backhanded flattery I've ever received, he continued. "Really, it was. No one likes a skinny cow."
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| Drawing inspired by the Skinny Cow cartoons of Werner Wejp-Olsen. |
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