02/05/2026
Turn the Other Cheek
It was late January in Alabama, which means the coldest time of year for us. We were working in rural Pickens County, where there wasn’t even a gas station for 20 miles.
We parked our truck about 100 yards from an older house that has the look of a grandma’s house. First, we decided to see if we could quickly find any property corners before breaking for lunch.
After a few hours searching in the woods, we came out for lunch. One of my two workers had forgotten to pack food, so we’d stopped at a gas station on the way in for him to buy a can of beef stew. He immediately cranked the truck to let the stew warm by the engine, making us laugh.
I noticed an older lady standing on the porch at the house, looking at us. I told my men to go ahead and eat, while I told the lady what we were doing so she wouldn’t worry we were up to no good. I explained to her that we were surveying the property next to hers, and she might see some men walking in the woods wearing orange vests.
I immediately noticed that she seemed a little different than my grandmother. Although they were about the same age—80ish, she talked loudly and seemed a little hot headed. “I know who you’re working for. They’ve been trying to take my land for years. Well, they can’t have it!”
We were working for her grandchildren who had inherited the land around her, and she thought we were there to kick her out of her house. Now, I grew up around my great grandparents who were in their eighties and nineties when I was a young boy, so I’m pretty good at communicating with the older generation.
She started a monolog on how they’ve treated her all these years and now they just want to take her land. I politely listened, even though it was 20 degrees outside and all I could think about was my sandwich and the warm truck. She would randomly throw in cuss words in her rant, then all of the sudden she slapped me across the face and said, “I’m a Christian woman, and I’m not supposed to talk like that. You need to slap me back.”
I’ve knocked on many doors and talked to many mad landowners in my career, but I have to say this was an entirely new experience.
I stood there pondering, Do I slap her back? I felt like that might go against some sort of workplace ethics violation, so I did not. I did, however, sum the conversion up as soon as possible to avoid further injury.
When I made it back to the warm truck, both men were dying laughing. They’d witnessed the entire interaction, including the slap. The guy who had the beef stew said it was just as cold as when he bought it, but he ate it anyway, right out of the can. We didn’t get to eat a good meal that day, but we sure were entertained.
