Congratulations Cooper!

People scoffed when you first opened your store.

“Is there really a big market for someone who just makes barrels nowadays?” they’ll ask politely, as you work a single stave to get the curve just right.

“FUCK YOU!” you’ll shout back at them, branding an axehandle threateningly.

“It just seems like factories deal with this sort of thing more appropriately. And have the ability to deal with the necessary volume better, you know?” they’ll say, walking backwards slowly towards the door.

“I DON’T NEED THIS!” you’ll scream, hurling a container of pitch at them and letting out a wordless shout that drives them out of the door.

Then you’ll turn back to your work, crafting barrels piece by piece. After two days of solid work you’ll have completed the barrel you were working on at the start of this story. It will be a good barrel, good enough for dried goods, not quite well sealed enough for liquids. You’ll smile at your handiwork before taking in just how big and empty your store is. Was the abstract they at the beginning of this story right? Is it possible that you’ve alienated your customer base by making a business so remarkably anachronistic that it really hasn’t existed in first world nations in nearly a century?

As you ponder these deep, business shattering thoughts a portly man in a suit will burst in. He’ll be an eccentric billionaire who wishes the world was more like it used to be, when people could own slaves, and he’ll immediately be taken with your operation.

“How much for that barrel?” he’ll say.

“A farthing!” you’ll shout, slightly less angrily than before but still sort of generally angry.

“I’ll take it!” he’ll shout back, excited at the idea of being angry for no good reason.

“Okay!” you’ll shout back at him, as he writes you a check for two million dollars with “A Farthing” written in the notes field. Thus will begin your only actual relationship with a client, and the only true friendship you will ever know in life.

Congratulations Cooper!