One December, years ago, my father was out of work. He worked every odd job he could to give us a good Christmas. After working all night helping a neighbor install a new furnace, Dad arrived home just as my 6-year-old brother, Jack and I were sitting down at the kitchen table to have a bowl of cereal.
“Finish your breakfast and get your coats on boys,” Father exclaimed, “We’re going out for a Christmas tree.”
Mom looked over at Dad. “But I thought… Did you make that much last night, Dear?”
“I have a plan,” He said to her with a smile.
So off we went in my father’s rusty pickup heading to the tree lot on the other side of town.
“What’s the plan, Dad?” I asked.
Jack, who was sitting in the middle, raised his eyebrows and said, “We’re going to steal one!”
“No, Jack. You know better then that,” my father said. “We’re not thieves. Stealing is wrong and it’s a sin. What I’m going to do is teach you how to negotiate.”
“What does Nigo, Nigo-y-tate mean?”
Dad laughed. “Negotiate. We are going to talk them down on their price.”
“I don’t get it,” Jack said.
“Me neither, Dad. How much do we have?” I asked.
“We are going to make a plan,” Dad said, ignoring my question. “I am going to look over every tree in the lot very carefully. I’m going to look at each one finding the bare spots. Finding the crooked trunk. See if the tree is too dry. Check to see how fresh it is. We’re gong to look over these trees like we are Christmas tree experts.”
“How’s that going to help us?” I asked at the same time.
“Are we poor?” Jack asked.
“If we were selling trees,” Dad said, “We couldn’t just give them away to the poor. Right?”
“Yeah,” Jack and I agreed.
“We couldn’t just give it away, cause we had to pay for the trees and need to make a profit. Also, we wouldn’t want to offend the people by making them feel like they are poor and need charity. Right?”
Jack and I both nodded.
Dad smiled. “Here is our plan. After I walk all around and talk him down as much as I can on the tree I want, I’ll start scratching my nose. Jack, that’s when you say, “”Common, Dad. Buy this tree, don’t be so cheap.”” Then, Mark, you say, “”Shut up Jack. You know Dad only has ten dollars.”” Then my father laughed. “And that’s how we’ll get a tree for ten dollars.”
The plan my father came up with worked. We got a nice tree that year for ten dollars. Mom, Jack and I decorated it that evening while Dad watched us with a slight grin, and a great gleam in his eye.