Let Me Tell You a Story...

"Life itself is the most wonderful fairy tale of all."
       —Hans Christian Andersen

Do you know someone who is a good storyteller? Someone who can paint a picture with words or punctuate the point with that perfect metaphor; someone who embellishes the story just enough - but not too much; someone who uses attention getting introductions; someone who includes details to develop the plot, characters and setting so you feel like you know just who or what he/she is talking about? Let me introduce you to such a storyteller.

I have a Ford store in Winner, SD. I live 50 miles away in Chamberlain, SD. I don't read the Winner Advocate (local weekly newspaper) like I should. Recently, I was in the store and saw the latest edition sitting on the counter. As I took time to look through it, I saw a column written by someone I know quite well - an employee, Kirk Bainter, the F&I manager in my Ford store.

I read the column and enjoyed the story very much. I inquired about how long he'd been writing these and where I could read past columns. I learned that he had written a dozen of these stories on a wide-ranging variety of topics. They appear in the paper on a bi-weekly basis and some of these were available on the Advocate's website, but that not all were.

I asked Kirk for copies of his other stories. As I read them, I found they reminded me of events and characters from my youth. I really enjoyed reading them.

I encouraged Kirk to share them on a blog - to start his own. So he has created "Story Time with Kirk" which is simply a collection of the stories he has written for the Winner Advocate.

Kirk is somewhat of a character. I think his stories illustrate that quite well. But if you want quick, concrete evidence of that, this video proclaims that very loudly.

He has granted me permission to post one of his stores here.

She Screamed for Ice Cream

by Kirk Bainter

One bad decision can lead to another and amplify it's impact exponentially when done with my kind of precision. This can make certain situations more memorable than others. Take for instance my recent trip to the convenience store to pick up my fresh made pizza order. I arrived long before the pizza was done, as this is my normal mode of operation. I was patiently standing by for any sign of the delicious bacon-cheeseburger pizza that would begin to peek out of the 503-degree conveyor oven. I believe I was the only customer in the store at the time.

Fate changes with every heartbeat, blink or decision we make like the wind changes speed and direction for reasons most of us don't understand. I wasn't thinking about fate or repercussions or anything but pizza when the young father and his two children came into the store that night. I noticed the father of the two precious youngsters head directly to the men's room, leaving the two kids somewhat unattended. 

The boy was about seven or eight years old. He went directly to the gum/baseball card area and was quickly entranced within it's power. The little girl was five. She had to be five. There is a certain look all five-year-olds have. It is unmistakable, undeniable and inarguable. She was five. Probably bored from riding in a car for some time, the little girl was peering upward and focusing on nothing in particular when she turned to walk up the same aisle as me. I was facing the goodie machines. You know, the soda fountain, freezy machine, coffee pots and oh yes, the ice cream machine.

She strolled along the aisle carefree and humming an unpublished concerto. But, all that changed as she neared me. She looked to her right and instantly radar locked on the ice-cream machine. I wondered for a moment what the attraction was. As I looked closer at the machine, the answer became quite clear. A smile came to me as I noticed there was a two to three inch ice cream stalactite hanging from the dispenser nozzle. 

With little hesitation she reached out to obtain the small hanging treat. At the precise moment her index finger made contact with the ice cream, the compressor that runs the cooling system of the machine kicked on with a violent roar. 

She reacted with a quick tensing and small jump back. Thinking she may be responsible for breaking something or setting off some type of ice-cream machine theft alarm, she snapped her head to the left, looked directly at me with eyes wide and jaw dropped. I could have looked away and left well enough alone, but no....not me. I looked at her, then at the machine, then back at her and said in an authoritative and accusing tone, "What did you do?"

See, I think I'm a really funny guy. That was supposed to be a really funny thing. I simply failed to consider my audience. The next few seconds were those kind where you wish you had a rewind button to hit.  First, there was a small inward breath, then a large lung filling gasp followed by a second of silence. A moment like that can seem to last a long time when you know the next thing that happens will be very, very bad.

At first I thought the sound I heard was an ambulance siren at full screech. Unfortunately, it was not. During mid-scream, I became aware that I was alone in an aisle with a young girl screaming her head off within five feet of me. I also knew it probably wouldn't look good to any amateur child protection advocates that may have just stumbled into the store. 

Not knowing what to do, I simply ran. Not perhaps the best quick decision I've made in my life. As it turns out, there just isn't any law against being stupid or being a jerk to a little kid. I'd like to see it stay that way for the next "funny thing" I decide to do.


Kirk's stories appear bi-weekly in the newspaper. If you need a bit of this light-hearted commentary occasionally, you can subscribe to the Advocate or you can visit "Story Time with Kirk Bainter" .