Worth the Wait
Est. Read Time: 5 Mins.
5 dollars.
This is how much money, a man who we will call Wesley, wanted to pay on his invoice. Not for a custom-patch, ID Collar, or DFD™, but for a major marquee product. One of our most expensive.
He was going to pay for a custom-fit Aerial Insertion Vest, that costs $1,849.00 USD, in micro installments until it was paid in full and the self-adjusting sizing kit could be shipped out. I offered him just about every other product under the sun, but nothing could persuade him from altering his goal. Living on disability in the USA, he explained that he wanted the absolute best for his service dog, even if it potentially took him years to get it.
About once a month, Wesley would call and we would chat. He’d let me know how much he was putting down for a payment. Some days it was $200, others $25. The payments fluctuated wildly and were dependent on different factors within his own life. Different bills, different requirements. When it was a small payment, he would say with hesitation in his voice, “It’s only going to be ___ this time”, and we would go ahead and charge the card as requested, no matter how little the amount.
You may be thinking to yourself, why does this man care? Why doesn’t he just buy something less expensive? Why doesn’t he explain his situation and ask for it for free?
In an instant, I’m transported to my childhood bedroom. From floor to ceiling, my room is painted a light shade of blue. A heavily oversized rough wooden bookshelf carries my prized possessions of action figures and assorted board games. A small window, just large enough for egress from the basement lets in the orange evening sun. My polar bear shaped table lamp is flicked on, illuminating a large, laminated poster of semi-pro hockey team logos. In my hands lays an open worn-out book, the pages crinkled and creased from being read and reread over the years.
Where the Red Fern Grows - One of the greatest dog books ever written.
When I was in the 5th Grade, my Dad insisted we read, Where the Red Fern Grows together. He explained to me, before starting the book, that the story was a classic, and that the lessons learned within the pages would be something that I would be able to hold onto for the rest of my life.
At the time, I thought this was absolute nonsense.
Books? Give me a break. I didn’t believe a single word that was coming out of my old man’s mouth. What kind of knowledge could I possibly gain from a disheveled paper back novel that would bring about any value?
The book centers around the relationship of the main protagonist, 10-year-old Billy Colman, and his Redbone Hunting Dogs, Old Dan and Little Ann. The book is astonishingly simply yet eloquently written, with highs and lows scattered perfectly throughout the novel. Like any story about dogs, Where the Red Fern Grows highlights how a bond is created between human and animal, and through a series of events, this bond becomes unbreakable, even until the bitter end. It’s an emotional experience and truly a must-read for any k9 handler.
But one part that always stood out for me was not anything to do with the dogs themselves. It was the struggle that Billy endured to get them in the first place.
“Wow, he saved his money for 2 years?”, I said to my dad incredulously, “He must have really wanted those dogs.”
Billy’s family is loving, but barely making ends-meet when Billy sees an ad in a magazine for Redbone Hunting Dogs that cost $25 each. His family could not afford to spend the total of $50 on their shoe-string budget in the 1920’s, so instead Billy spent the next 2 years saving up pennies, nickels, and dimes from selling crawfish and berries to the locals around his family’s farm. He saved every single cent that he could, dropping it into an old baking soda tin for safe keeping. The familiar *ting* of metal hitting metal meant he was one step closer to achieving his dream.
I thought about my own life at that moment. Growing up, neither my brother or I were given a fixed allowance or were paid for helping with major yardwork around the house. Instead, we each had minor jobs that garnered a few dollars here and there for our efforts.
One of my first and favorite jobs was to make coffee, on-demand, for my parents. I earned $1 for a fresh pot. I’m sure this kickstarted my love for java…is there anything better than opening a fresh tin of dark roast coffee on a Saturday morning and filling the kitchen with the toasted aroma of crushed beans? Like Billy Colman, I stored my earnings in an empty blue coffee tin under my bed for safe keeping.
Some quick math for you: $50 in 1920 is worth about $665 today.
1 pot of coffee a day x 365 days, minus the days when the ‘rents don’t drink coffee = roughly 2 years for me to get 2 dogs. My mind was now spinning.
“How come Billy didn’t just get 1 dog? Why go through the trouble of waiting so long to get 2?”
“Well”, my father paused a moment to ponder the question, “It gave him purpose. He was able to focus on a goal and give meaning to his life.”
“Yeah, but 2 years?”
My dad let out a dad huff. You know, the one when kids are being annoying, saying why? over and over. I didn’t normally ask an over abundance of questions, but for some reason it just seemed like a lot to ask a 10 year old boy to save his money for 2 whole years.
We sat there for a moment in silence, my hollow words still hanging in the air, when I pipe up again.
“I still don’t get it. Why didn’t he just get 1 dog?”
My dad then turns to me and looks me square in the eye.
“Because that was not what he wanted. Why should he settle for less?”
I come back to reality and realize that I’m still on the phone.
“It’s only going to be 5 dollars this time”, Wesley says on the other end of the line.
At this point, an overwhelming sense of respect for this man washes over me. Buying 1 dog was hard enough for Billy Colman and buying 2 was even more challenging. He worked longer and harder than anyone else to get what he desired, and in the end, the moment of success was that much more satisfying because of the hard work he put in to get there. Where most people would’ve given up and lost interest in their goal because it wasn’t achieved fast enough, Billy refused to quit. Wesley was setting out to do the exact same thing and there was nothing we could do to stop him.
Do I think he’s ever going to pay off his invoice in full? I bet you one thousand eight hundred forty-nine dollars that he will.
For this is not the first vest Wesley has purchased from us this way.
It’s his second.