Rushing Yards

There's this plumber who regularly comes into the old barn, I'll call him Cloyce just to give him a name, who is a nice guy who generally doesn't rush us. Generally.

He brought in a machine last Wednesday for a relatively major repair. I told him to allow about a week. "That's fine, Cosgriff, no rush at all," he said as he left the Shop. "After Thanksgiving is fine even, I ain't going to rush you."

Cloyce came in last Thursday around One O'clock. "I was just passing by, Cosgriff, so I thought I'd stop in. I ain't going to rush you."

He called Friday morning. "How's it look? I ain't rushing you, only touching base." I advised him that it would be Tuesday.

Monday morning he stopped by. "Just in the neighborhood, Cosgriff. I ain't rushing ya." 

I reminded him about Tuesday and he was on his way. As soon as the door hit Cloyce on the way out me brother Phil groused, "I'd hate to see what it's like for him to rush us."

He picked up his machine yesterday, arriving at the Shop within a half hour of my call (and paying cash), so there's that. Still, yes, I do wonder what his idea of rushing us would be.