A journal of a day at the farmers' market.
"Rejoice with them that do rejoice, and weep with them that weep."
—Romans 12:15
I arrive and get the day started; mostly the usual—get a cup of Turkish coffee for myself and a bag of beans for the week, buy some biscotti, steal (well, trade for) blueberry muffins, greet all the stallholders I know (which is most of them), give everyone at our stall hugs, check for new product and changed prices. Flirt with customers, take money and give change. It's hardly rocket science, this job. What is rocket science is managing people and one's emotions. It's recognising that someone is out of sorts; Do they need a hug? A shoulder to cry on? Or the flipside, someone who needs someone to celebrate with them. New baby, a graduation, an award. The local robotics team winning a challenge. New boyfriend/girlfriend, just married?. Celebrate! I have written about why I believe the market to be akin to a village; no-one in the village needs to suffer in silence, and should be encouraged to rejoice in their victories. We all need cheering on from time to time; I know that I've got a ton of support from my customers over the years through all my ups and downs.
One of the things about the farmers' market is the way we build relationships with customers. Five minutes at a time, week on week, year on year, and many become valued by us, for a variety of reasons. The couple who always give me a jocular hard time about something bu who always hang about for hugs and an exchange of news. The mother with her perky and engaging little daughter who will wear a princess dress and a cowboy hat. The former Air Force colonel whose son worked as an engineer for Virgin Galactic until their collapse, and is now working for another rocket company; we always talk space stuff. T-Shirt Guy, who wore a different humorous maths or science shirt every week. Not every one has a name attached, but T-Shirt Guy got a name yesterday; Matt. His wife came by to tell me he'd "upped and died". Damnit. We both shed a tear, Matt was well loved by all. He was good-humoured, funny and smart. We'd talk about whatever bit of science or maths was represented that week, he'd buy a thing or two and then move along elsewhere. Well, last week, he moved along for good, and his wife and I hugged and wept some.
Then there's the little guy celebrating his birthday with awesome face paint and a fresh doughnut. I celebrate with the parents, high-five the little lad and wish him many happy returns and explain how summer squash and potatoes grow, all told a win all round. Then there's the local politician back from her husband's celebration of life memorial, the teenaged girl who's won a scholarship to some class Ivy League university, and the daughter of another local farmer who has just had her first child (a real cutie-pie, all blond hair and smiles.)
All this and more; educating people on how to cook or grow various unfamiliar things, advising on how many winter squash plant starts to buy (because DAMN you can get a lot of butternut off one plant). Hearing various news; this couple off to Italy, that one off to Ireland to study and live (I shall miss her smile, and she was always good for a hug if I needed one). Another couple just back from a tour of Europe (Italy, Austria, Hungary, good food and coffee, they said). The guy who owns a business hit by the Crowdstrike debacle; I lent him a Linux USB boot drive so his IT fella can fix things (I had a text from him this morning thanking me and offering me a job and the promise of some cash for Knowing What To Do). There's the little snotnosed girl I knew twenty years ago who was always stuffing her face with a corndog, back from University for the weekend to visit her folks. They grow up so fast! Rejoice, weep, rinse, repeat.
Finish up the day early because it's HOT and the customers have thinned out. Pack up the stuff that will make it until market tomorrow, donate the rest. Pack up the van and it's off for a cold beer (raise your glass for Matt!) and a short drive home to nap.
This morning, back to Volt Coffee for a cortado, share the biscotti and catch up with an old friend; put the finishing touches to this and run some errands in town (buy a carnation for the front garden, get some ink for my fountain pen). Then it will be lunchtime, walk around the greenbelt and a nap.
in other news, I tire of my laptop keyboard, and I'm debating an upgrade to a luggable Bluetooth mechanical keyoard, or [possibly step back in time and find a Model M, a keyboard that not only is a delight to use, but heavy enough to weaponise.
I also need input: I'm also considering another quest: a week when I encourage people to step out of their comfort zones and write in a genre they otherwise wouldn't; so poets might write factuals, or vice versa, factnoders write creative prose…I would appreciate feedback, comments or suggestions.
Posted today, Boomtime, Confusion 56, 3190 YOLD
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