Home Depot - Tool Rental Christmas

Twas’ the week before Christmas, with bargains galore. Customers were scurrying, expecting to score, Christmas trees, combo kits, and holiday yard decor.

Little did they know, the most fun they would have, was to visit Tool Rental to Pressure Wash their Cat^®.

We start the morning with Penske my friend, Vince pounding the keyboard, it has no end. The website is finicky, let's not pretend. Then the doorbell rings, oh what a racket, a contractor hollers, “Get me an Auger . . . and that dump trailer too.”

A line starts to form, patience is nill’.

“I want a jackhammer, that suits the bill. Rent me a Hilti. Serve me first, or I'll do more than blabber. Your VOC score will fall off the ladder.”

Bob sneaks in and checks the repairs. Get them done early, and no angry errors.

With Jeff and Ricky all dressed in red, Joe customer enters with a cap on his head.

“I have a repair,” the customer said. “It's Christmas lights, all green and in red. They don't blink, they seem to be dead.”

Bob jumps from his den, "ruhgh, ruhgh, ruhgh," growls Bob as he says, “We can’t repair electrical, . . . don’t be a bonehead.”

Our business is steady, thank God we have Eddie, a true gentleman, he’s always pressed and ready.

We can't forget Joey, there’s scaffolding due in. He loves to unload it, then go for a swim.

While Patrick sweeps the hall, he remembers a call. Hello? Tool Rental - we have the right gizmos for all.

Merry Christmas!

Comments

When Fear Becomes the Default

In this special episode, When Fear Becomes the Default. Early Sunday morning, I was cycling past a small veterans’ pocket park in San Marcos. The air was still, the streets nearly empty. On one corner stood a young woman, alone, holding a hand-painted sign that read: “Be ANGRY. ICE agents are murdering people.” I pedaled past, but the words stayed with me. I knew the context—the footage and headlines from Minneapolis the day before, already ricocheting through the country and hardening opinions. Even in the quiet of the ride, the noise followed. Two miles later, I stopped at a red light. A black car with dark windows pulled up inches from my bike. My heart jumped. My first instinct wasn’t neighbor —it was threat . I found myself bracing, scanning, and wondering if the person inside was angry, armed, or looking for trouble. Then the door opened. A well-dressed young woman stepped out, walked to the trunk, and pulled out a sign that read “Open House.” She turned, smiled brightly, and sa...

The Language of Home: Building a Sanctuary

This episode is for anyone trying to find their footing in a new place—whether it’s a new city, a new job, or a new country. The light in Florence, Italy, has a way of making everything feel like a Renaissance painting—the golden hue on the stone, the steady rhythm of the Arno River, and the feeling that you are walking through a history much larger than yourself. I was there to give a presentation to a class of Gemology students. I was prepared to discuss color grading and refractive indices, but not to be outed as a language tutor . Feeling very much like a guest in a storied land, a hand shot up enthusiastically. "You’re the guy on the podcasts," the young woman said, her eyes bright with recognition. "You’re the one teaching us English." I laughed nervously. If you know my flat Midwestern accent, you know the irony here. I am hardly an Oxford professor. But later, as I wandered the cobblestone streets beneath the shadow of the Duomo, the humor faded into a powe...

Practiced Hands: The 50-Year Warranty

What Doc Burch Taught Me About Staying Active. We talk a lot about "life hacks" these days, but most of them don’t have a very long shelf life. Usually, they’re forgotten by the next app update. But back in 1972, I received a piece of advice that came with a 50-year warranty. It’s the reason I’m still on my bike today, still chasing a golf ball around Carlsbad, and still—mostly—in one piece. The Kick That Changed Everything It started with a literal kick in the pants. A kid at school in Cuba, Illinois, was joking around and caught me just right. By the next morning, my lower back was screaming. My mom didn’t reach for the Tylenol; she reached for her car keys. "Let’s go see Doc Burch," she said. "He’ll fix you right up." Harry E. Burch, D.C., was a fixture in Lewistown. He’d graduated from Palmer College in ’59 and had been our family’s go-to for years. He was a man of practiced hands and steady eyes. After a quick exam and an X-ray, the mood in the room s...

On the Fly–Taking Flight

In this special 500th episode, On the Fly is moving to a new home. Here’s why—and what’s staying the same. For a very long time (since April 2012), On the Fly has lived on Blogger . Blogger has been a reliable host—dependable, quiet, and never complaining when I arrived late with another half-baked idea, a guitar riff, or a story that needed a little air. It faithfully archived my thoughts, my music, and more than a decade of curiosity. But the internet has changed. It’s louder now. Flashier. More insistent. Every thought is nudged to perform. Every sentence wants to be optimized, monetized, or interrupted by something that really wants your attention right this second. I’ve been craving the opposite. So today, On the Fly is moving to Substack . If you’ve been with me for a while, you know my quiet obsession: the A rt of Seeing . I’m interested in the moments we rush past—the Aversion Trap, the discipline hidden inside a guitarist’s daily practice, t...

On The Fly

Search This Blog