Chapter 7: Customer Appreciation Day

Chapter 7: Customer Appreciation Day

The email arrived on a grey Thursday morning, landing in Art’s inbox with an uncharacteristically festive subject line. It was from Tractor Supply Co., but instead of the usual bland receipt, the header was a riot of bold, yellow text and clip-art fireworks.

Subject: IT’S HERE! Our Annual Customer Appreciation Weekend! EARN DOUBLE POINTS!

Art stopped typing his work report mid-sentence. He leaned forward, the glow of the monitor reflecting in his glasses. A slow, predatory smile crept across his face. He read the details. For 72 hours, from Friday to Sunday, every dollar spent would earn not one, but two loyalty points. A promotional bonanza designed to juice sales figures and reward the faithful.

To Art, it was a trumpet blast signaling the final battle.

This was the endgame. A sudden, massive influx of points would be Jedidiah’s only hope. His opponent, cornered and confused after the failed password siege, would see this as a gift from God. A chance to brute-force his way to victory with a single, decisive purchase, overwhelming the phantom gorilla and his bizarre stablemates with a tidal wave of loyalty. Jedidiah would think he was finally outsmarting the ghost in his machine.

Art’s smile widened. Oh, this was going to be beautiful. This wasn't just a prank anymore; it was a high-stakes, real-time strategy game against an opponent who didn't even know he was playing. The double points offer was the ultimate resource boost, dropped into the map for both players to contest. Jedidiah would be gathering his forces for one final push. Art just had to prepare his defenses for the inevitable onslaught.

---

In Tennessee, the screen of Cody’s phone was a beacon of hope in the gloom of Jedidiah’s kitchen. After the humiliating defeat of the security questions—a story Cody had unfortunately, and hilariously, recounted to his mother—Jedidiah had sunk into a state of grim, resentful silence. The zoo in his account had won. The troll, as Cody called it, was invincible.

But now, Cody was waving his phone like a victory flag.

“Uncle Jed, you gotta see this!” he said, sliding the phone across the oak table. “It’s their Customer Appreciation Weekend. Double points on everything.”

Jedidiah picked up the phone, squinting at the tiny, bright text. His lips moved as he slowly read the announcement. A flicker of something long-dormant ignited in his chest: the stubborn, unyielding spark of a man who refused to be beaten. He’d been outmaneuvered in the digital world, a world of passwords and gorillas he couldn’t comprehend. But this… this brought the fight back to his turf. The physical world. The world of bulk purchases and real, hard currency.

“Double points…” Jedidiah murmured, the gears of a plan beginning to grind in his head.

“Yeah!” Cody said, leaning forward excitedly. “You could buy a bunch of stuff you’re gonna need anyway—feed, oil, whatever—and get enough points to finally get your discount. Like, way more than enough. You could probably get like, fifty bucks off.”

Fifty bucks. It was a fortune compared to his original goal. But it was more than that. The troll could delete his points, invent narcoleptic alpacas, and lock him out with insane riddles. But the troll couldn’t stop him from walking into a store and buying things. This was a loophole in the madness. A way to punch back.

“I ain’t gonna get fifty bucks off,” Jedidiah said, his voice low and determined. He was looking past Cody, out the window towards the barn. “I’m gonna get it all.”

He had been putting it off for years, but the long fence on the back forty was on its last legs. Rusted, sagging, and more of a suggestion than a barrier. Replacing it would be a massive job. It would also be a massive purchase. Spools of high-tensile wire, thousands of insulators, new steel t-posts, a new post-driver, bags of concrete… The list formed in his mind, a beautiful, expensive tapestry of defiance. It would cost a small fortune, but it was an investment he needed to make eventually. Doing it now, on this weekend, would generate a cataclysmic number of points. Enough to bypass any digital chicanery. Enough to win.

“Cody,” Jedidiah said, standing up, his chair scraping against the floorboards. “Get your coat. We’re going to the barn. I need you to help me make a list.”

The rest of the afternoon was a whirlwind of focused, physical preparation. Jedidiah, with a purpose he hadn’t felt in weeks, strode through his barn and workshop, taking inventory. He hooked up his flatbed trailer to his F-150, the rusty hitch groaning in protest. He threw open the doors to his feed shed, calculating how many bags of Producer’s Pride he could stockpile without it going stale. Buster, sensing the shift in his owner’s energy from defeated malaise to resolute action, trotted happily at his heels, occasionally nudging his hand with his nose.

Jedidiah loaded empty gas cans onto the trailer for the farm’s diesel tank. He measured the remaining length on a spool of baling twine. He counted his dwindling supply of oil filters. Each item added to the list on Cody’s phone was another bullet in his chamber, another soldier for his army. The truck and trailer, by sunset, stood ready—a war chariot waiting for the dawn. This wasn’t just a shopping trip. It was a crusade.

---

Across the Atlantic, Art’s preparation was a mirror image: silent, digital, and precise. He cleaned his desk, leaving only his keyboard, his mouse, and a large, steaming mug of dark roast coffee. He closed all extraneous programs, dedicating his system’s full processing power to a single browser window. On his main 4K monitor, he had the Tractor Supply website open, logged into Jedidiah’s account. He admired his handiwork one last time: the menagerie of Nigel, Bartholomew, and Esmeralda standing guard on the profile page; the impossible security questions locking the gates.

On his secondary monitor, he had a simple text file open. It contained a single, repeating line of text: Voucher: One (1) 3lb Bag of Purr-fect Catch Cat Treats, Salmon Flavor - 200 points.

He’d done the calculations. Based on Jedidiah’s past spending habits, amplified by a potential major project, he could be looking at a purchase of one, maybe two thousand dollars. On a double points weekend, that would translate to a biblical flood of 4,000 points or more. Enough for a $40 discount, with change to spare.

Art’s plan was simple. The moment that purchase registered—the moment that mountain of points hit the account—he would begin the Great Redemption. He wouldn't just buy a few vouchers. He would, with the fastest clicking his gamer-honed reflexes could manage, convert every single point, down to the last one, into a voucher for salmon-flavored cat treats. He would turn Jedidiah’s grand financial victory into an avalanche of feline snacks.

He flexed his fingers, cracking his knuckles. He adjusted his glasses. He took a sip of coffee. Outside his Manchester window, the city hummed with Friday evening traffic. Inside, all was quiet. He was a sniper in a digital bell tower, his scope trained on a single account, waiting for the target to appear.

Jedidiah Stone, his truck and trailer rumbling down a dark Tennessee county road towards the beckoning lights of the Tractor Supply Co., gripped his steering wheel, his heart filled with a farmer’s stubborn hope.

Art Pendelton, bathed in the cool blue light of his monitor an ocean away, rested his finger on his mouse, his heart filled with the gleeful malice of a god about to play a trick on a mortal.

The final battle for account [email protected] was about to begin.