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fall 2022
The Secluded Sisters of the Missouri Valley
So this summer, I have been doing the customer service for the Secluded Sisters of the Missouri Valley. I know that the idea sounds a little counter-intuitive, but as long as we want to keep selling community-supported agriculture boxes, we have to take calls from that community. I don’t want to go into all of the chore-wheel math that ended me at the end of your phone call. Just know that sometimes bad things happen to good people.
I have been asked to preface this letter with something positive. And I will: I am very grateful that people buy our CSA boxes. And I am very grateful to the six people who called this summer just to say something nice. Those were great. On very rare occasions, the angry calls have positive side effects. Sometimes I learned something. Sometimes it helped give me a sense of perspective. And sometimes they so completely blindside me that I ended up enjoying myself. One woman called to complain that the ingredients in her box didn’t line up with a soup recipe she found in the paper. Not enough spinach. Too many onions. I asked her, “Why did you think that our box would match up with a recipe you found from someone else?” She just answered, “Well I have to do something with the stuff. I fucking hate vegetables!” How do you argue with that?
But on average, the calls tend to be pretty frustrating. Most callers are under the impression that if they are angry enough, I will give them something to shut them up. And I hate that shit. That’s what toddlers do. Now, if these were actual toddlers calling to complain about there not being enough citrus fruit in their CSA boxes, I wouldn’t mind. I would happily explain to them how hard it is to grow limes in eastern Nebraska and why we grow other things instead. But when it is a man in his fifties who just so happens to keep repeating how much he has been enjoying the beets, I’m a little less inclined to pop on my teaching cap.
I’m trying to be the change I see in the world, so I’ve started giving little gifts to people who call in and act really nice. It is always lovely to end a nice conversation by making someone feel a little special. But on the other hand, I have yet to keep anyone from yelling by pleading, “You know, when people are really nice to me I usually give them some peppers.”
I was complaining about this to my (biological) sister on the phone and she started to get a little snotty with me. She said, “You know, you’re always talking about people working together and collaborating, but when you actually have to deal with The People, you can’t handle it.” For a few days, this idea really bummed me out. Is it possible that my sister might be able to realize something about my worldview that I am too close to see properly?
No, of course not!
Because very few of the people who call in are trying to collaborate with me. Generally, the calls are quite confrontational. As if the caller thinks that we are both trying to fuck each other over, so they have to come in hard and strong to get the upper hand. What a sad way to go about life! I wonder if these people can stop to smell the roses, or if they just start yelling at the roses to provide more nutritional value for a lower overhead cost.
And that’s not a Secluded Sisters of the Missouri Valley problem. That’s the economy, stupid. You just can’t escape capitalism. Not even here. For all of the romance and glamor of communes that end in big explosions or terrifying sex scandals or gluttonous piles of drugs and money and guns, most communes end for the same reason as most small businesses. Rent trouble. Administrative burnout. Simple stuff like that. And when I answer customer service calls, of course they are going to bring a capitalist mindset. They are using the same money with me that they use at the Hy-Vee in Omaha.
There is a separate category of call that has really started to break my heart. This group of people just needs to complain about something and they know I’ll pick up my phone. Someone in town calls once a week to complain about the county roads near the farm. But I don’t make those decisions. You know who does? A politician I didn’t vote for because I knew he would cut spending on things like county roads. One day, I told this guy the right person to call. He took a deep breath and said, “Wouldn’t that be nice.”
A different person called to complain that we were making everything so complicated because we have a website. And I have some sympathy for this idea. Computers cost a lot of money and take a lot of time to get used to. Why should they be a requirement for inclusion in modern society? What’s more, I bet if we took a long and hard look at the world around us, it probably would be a good idea to decentralize the internet in our life. But this woman, who was yelling at me and saying how “pissed” she was, eventually said, “Things used to be so much better. I remember when you could just pick up the phone and call someone rather than have to deal with some damn webpage.” I decided not to mention that she had just picked up the phone and called me. If anything, I’m the change she wants to see in the world. But on the other hand, the people making her life more complicated are inaccessible to her. What else is she supposed to do?
I guess I just keep wondering: If things outside the farm keep seeping in even when we don’t want them to, is the opposite true? Do we have any impact on Omaha? On Freemont? On Wahoo? Or are we just too small? If you hold a lightbulb up right in front of the sun, it will still put out light. But it will be so dim by comparison, that it will look like it is being swallowed by shadows. Plus, you’ll die because you stood too close to the sun. Which is a bummer.
I have been asked to preface this letter with something positive. And I will: I am very grateful that people buy our CSA boxes. And I am very grateful to the six people who called this summer just to say something nice. Those were great. On very rare occasions, the angry calls have positive side effects. Sometimes I learned something. Sometimes it helped give me a sense of perspective. And sometimes they so completely blindside me that I ended up enjoying myself. One woman called to complain that the ingredients in her box didn’t line up with a soup recipe she found in the paper. Not enough spinach. Too many onions. I asked her, “Why did you think that our box would match up with a recipe you found from someone else?” She just answered, “Well I have to do something with the stuff. I fucking hate vegetables!” How do you argue with that?
But on average, the calls tend to be pretty frustrating. Most callers are under the impression that if they are angry enough, I will give them something to shut them up. And I hate that shit. That’s what toddlers do. Now, if these were actual toddlers calling to complain about there not being enough citrus fruit in their CSA boxes, I wouldn’t mind. I would happily explain to them how hard it is to grow limes in eastern Nebraska and why we grow other things instead. But when it is a man in his fifties who just so happens to keep repeating how much he has been enjoying the beets, I’m a little less inclined to pop on my teaching cap.
I’m trying to be the change I see in the world, so I’ve started giving little gifts to people who call in and act really nice. It is always lovely to end a nice conversation by making someone feel a little special. But on the other hand, I have yet to keep anyone from yelling by pleading, “You know, when people are really nice to me I usually give them some peppers.”
I was complaining about this to my (biological) sister on the phone and she started to get a little snotty with me. She said, “You know, you’re always talking about people working together and collaborating, but when you actually have to deal with The People, you can’t handle it.” For a few days, this idea really bummed me out. Is it possible that my sister might be able to realize something about my worldview that I am too close to see properly?
No, of course not!
Because very few of the people who call in are trying to collaborate with me. Generally, the calls are quite confrontational. As if the caller thinks that we are both trying to fuck each other over, so they have to come in hard and strong to get the upper hand. What a sad way to go about life! I wonder if these people can stop to smell the roses, or if they just start yelling at the roses to provide more nutritional value for a lower overhead cost.
And that’s not a Secluded Sisters of the Missouri Valley problem. That’s the economy, stupid. You just can’t escape capitalism. Not even here. For all of the romance and glamor of communes that end in big explosions or terrifying sex scandals or gluttonous piles of drugs and money and guns, most communes end for the same reason as most small businesses. Rent trouble. Administrative burnout. Simple stuff like that. And when I answer customer service calls, of course they are going to bring a capitalist mindset. They are using the same money with me that they use at the Hy-Vee in Omaha.
There is a separate category of call that has really started to break my heart. This group of people just needs to complain about something and they know I’ll pick up my phone. Someone in town calls once a week to complain about the county roads near the farm. But I don’t make those decisions. You know who does? A politician I didn’t vote for because I knew he would cut spending on things like county roads. One day, I told this guy the right person to call. He took a deep breath and said, “Wouldn’t that be nice.”
A different person called to complain that we were making everything so complicated because we have a website. And I have some sympathy for this idea. Computers cost a lot of money and take a lot of time to get used to. Why should they be a requirement for inclusion in modern society? What’s more, I bet if we took a long and hard look at the world around us, it probably would be a good idea to decentralize the internet in our life. But this woman, who was yelling at me and saying how “pissed” she was, eventually said, “Things used to be so much better. I remember when you could just pick up the phone and call someone rather than have to deal with some damn webpage.” I decided not to mention that she had just picked up the phone and called me. If anything, I’m the change she wants to see in the world. But on the other hand, the people making her life more complicated are inaccessible to her. What else is she supposed to do?
I guess I just keep wondering: If things outside the farm keep seeping in even when we don’t want them to, is the opposite true? Do we have any impact on Omaha? On Freemont? On Wahoo? Or are we just too small? If you hold a lightbulb up right in front of the sun, it will still put out light. But it will be so dim by comparison, that it will look like it is being swallowed by shadows. Plus, you’ll die because you stood too close to the sun. Which is a bummer.
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