The Banker in the White Loafers
A visiting banker arrives at my Hico dairy in spotless white loafers and learns that my muddy lane has opinions about city footwear.
A young man from the regional office drove out to my place one morning in a car so clean you could have eaten off the hood. He stepped out wearing a pressed blue suit and a pair of white leather loafers that looked like they had never seen a Tuesday. I did not have the heart to tell him about the lane.
Now my lane in Hico runs about four hundred yards from the county road to the milk barn, and it is a lovely walk in dry weather. That week it had rained two inches, then stopped, then threatened, and the clay had the consistency of fresh bread dough. He took six steps and his left loafer stayed behind. I am not exaggerating. The shoe stood by itself in the mud while he continued on in his sock.
I offered him a pair of my wife's old rubber boots, which he accepted with great dignity. They were a size too big and a shade too yellow, but they got him to the barn. There he met Clementine, a Jersey with a habit of licking whatever is handed to her, and she took a great interest in his tie. He held perfectly still while she finished, like a man waiting for a photograph.
We conducted the whole site visit that way, him in yellow boots and a slightly damp tie, asking sensible questions about cow numbers and feed costs, and writing the answers on a clipboard I lent him because his tablet had gone quiet in the humidity. At the end he said it was the most thorough visit he had ever done. I told him it was the only one where the lane did half the inspecting.
He mailed the boots back clean, with a thank you note, and the loafer arrived by courier two weeks later, stiff as a board. It hangs in my office now next to a calendar from the feed store. If you need to plan a barn visit that is a little less dramatic, the National Weather Service will tell you whether to wear the good shoes, and stories like this one live at farm.FM.
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