PIGS or PIGS?
Ellis Parker Butler, was an American author, born in Iowa, 1869, died in Massachusetts, 1937.
He was a prolific author, with over 30 books and more than 2,000 stories and essays to his name.
He was actually a full time banker. Where he found the time to pen so many books, essays and short stories is anybody’s guess?
Pure talent and a vivid imagination I would suggest.
He was a founding member of the Authors League of America.
Perhaps his most famous short story was, PIGS is PIGS, written in 1905, an amusing dig at the world of ‘pig headed’ bureaucrats.
Last piece of information concerns the State of Iowa, where Ellis was born, and in my humble opinion, the inspiration for that short story;
There are seven times as many pigs at any one time in that State as there are human beings.
What follows is my tribute to Ellis Parker Butler as I take the liberty of reshaping that wonderful story and move the setting from a railway terminal somewhere in the USA to the Western Islands of Scotland.
(Forgive me Ellis)
Pigs or Pigs?
Location;
Tarbert ferry terminal - back in the day
Tarbert, Isle of Harris - Ferry Terminal of Inter Island Ferries (West Division)
Characters ;
Murdo ‘Tolsta’ MacIver - Ferry Company Agent (25 years service at the Tarbert Ferry Terminal)
Shaunie ‘the net’ MacLeman - Customer
Morag Morrison Macleod - Terminal Manager (only arrived in that post four months before)
Plot;
Shaunie ‘The Net’ Macleman at Tarbert ferry terminal to uplift a pair of Peruvian Guinea pigs contained in two wooden fish boxes nailed together, making a serviceable cage - he and Murdo ‘Tolsta’ MacIver, the agent, are having a ‘ding dong’ disagreement about the cost.
Opens;
MURDO (shaking with rage), ‘ No I will not accept £40 The cost to you, Shaunie Macleman, as you know fine well, is a round £60, not a penny more, not a penny less, as plain as day.’
Shaunie (waving a printed leaflet under Murdo’s nose) ‘Can you not read you ignorant Lewisman, it is in here, your own document, as plain as the nose on your face, in Gaelic and English; Pets, domestic, Uig to Tarbert, properly boxed and packaged, £20 each. When I was at school two multiplied by 20 came to 40. There you have it in black and white; £40’. (stepping back, shrugging his shoulders, smirk on his face)
A regular farm pig - sus domesticus
Murdo (now really raging - drawing himself to his full height) ‘ Call me an ignorant Lewisman and you a Hearach, you have got some nerve. The rules is the rules and I am not breaking them for you Shaunie MacLeman. It will be £60 or you will be collecting no pigs from me this day.’
Shaunie (not backing down and himself now bristling, stares for a few moments at Murdo, then in a slow, low voice dripping with sarcasm or is it menace) ‘ PETS - P E T S - £20 each, there are two of them, not four, not five or any other number, just two, properly boxed by my brother Archie ‘Salmon’ Macleman, master ship’s carpenter from Avoch on the Black Isle. You will never see a better made box for pigs’.
Murdo (reaching under the desk, pulls out the tariff ‘bible’, licks his thumb and flicks through the pages, stopping at one and after a moment or two of reflection, looking up at Shaunie and throwing him a triumphant look) ‘Here’s it is, Page 47, under the general heading Tariffs and Tariff disputes. When there is any doubt regarding which of the rates applies, the Agent will charge the larger.The consignee, that will be you, so you better listen, may file a claim for the overcharge. But in this case I would not waste my time, pets they may be, domestic they may be, but pigs they are and the tariff for pigs, Uig to Tarbert be thirty pounds each an’ by my mathematical knowledge, twice thirty comes to sixty.’
Shaunie (shaking his head and his voice rising) ‘Smùrach, stuff and nonsense. You ignorant man, that tariff is for pigs, common pigs, farmed pigs, even domesticated pigs, NOT Guinea Pigs!’
Murdo ( not giving one inch ) ‘Pigs is Pigs, Guinea Pigs, Peruvian Pigs, Abyssinian Pigs or American Pigs, is all the same to the Inter Island Ferries (West Division) and to me, Murdo ‘Tolsta’ MacIver, Ferry Company Agent. The nationality of the pigs makes no difference to the rate, Shaunie ‘the net’ MacLeman! I am here to tend to the companies business and not hold conversations with pigs in seventeen languages to discover be they Chinese, or Russian by birth and nativity. No sir, not me’!
Shaunie (raging inside paused a moment then throws up his arms and shouts) ‘OK, but you have not heard the last of this. Your Chairman will be informed! It is a violation of my human rights, a wickedness. Can you no see it? No, I have offered you £40, the correct tariff, you refuse it! Well, you can keep the pigs until you are ready to see sense and accept my honest and correct offer, Murdo, you stubborn man. It is sheep you should be dealing with! But mark my words, if one hair of these pigs is harmed, you better have a good legal representative’!
(With that he turns, stalks out and slams the door shut. Once home on his island croft he pens a letter of complaint to Sir Hector MacMaster, Director and Chairman of Inter Island Ferries, George Street, Edinburgh, applies a stamp and consigns it to the nearest Lamp Letter Box, all within the hour. )
Meanwhile, back at the ferry terminal, Tarbert.
Murdo carefully lifts the fish box crate containing the innocent, lettuce munching, Peruvian Guinea pigs from the counter and carefully places it in a corner. He is calm and feels the contentment that comes to a loyal servant who has done his duty and done it well.
MORAG (having heard the raised voices and keen to know what it was all about communicates though her open office door). ‘Murdo, what was all that about?’
MURDO (a tad defensively) ‘Hi boss, it was just Shaunie ‘the net’ MacLeman refusing to pay for the two pigs that were delivered here for him this morning.’
MORAG ‘What was his problem?’
MURDO ‘Och, just typical Shaunie, he claimed I was overcharging him.’
MORAG ‘What made him think that?’
MURDO ‘It’s just his nature ma’am, born awkward.’
MORAG ‘Yes, I get that. What was the consignment and what did you charge him?’
MURDO ‘It was two pigs in a wooden container, over from Uig. The tariff for transporting pigs from Uig to Tarbert is thirty pound a pig. Two pigs equals sixty pounds. That is what I charged him.’
MORAG ‘I still don’t understand the problem. Why did he think you overcharged. The tariff is quite clear on the leaflet is it not?’
MURDO ‘He disputes that and says it is only twenty pound a pig. So he says he will pay forty pounds, the correct amount in his opinion.’
MORAG ‘But if the tariff is clear on the leaflet, I am still struggling to understand the nature of his refusal to pay. He uses our services a lot does he not and always has paid with no quibble. There must be more to it than that.’
MURDO ‘No ma’am, he is just being difficult.’
MORAG ‘No, if he is going to complain it will land on my desk and I will have to answer for it. So, in words of one syllable, explain where he is at odds with your calculation.’
MURDO ‘The cost in the - .’
MORAG ‘Whoa! I know what it states in the tariff leaflet. No, it has to be something else. What are you leaving out?’
MURDO ‘He is claiming the pigs he is picking up are not pigs as defined in the tariff book.’
MORAG ‘What kind of pigs is he talking about?’
MURDO ‘Peruvian Guinea pigs. He says they are house pets and not pigs as defined in the leaflet.’
peruvian guinea pigs - two off - male and female
MORAG ‘Are you sure about the stance you have taken?’
MURDO ‘Yes ma’am, I have been doing this job for more than twenty years, man and boy, I know what a pig looks like.’
MORAG ‘OK, I am not sure about this, I just hope he doesn’t complain, turns up tomorrow to collect them and pays what you ask. What have you done with them?’
MURDO ‘I put them back in the shed. Shaunie will back down, I know him. He will turn up tomorrow and get them.’
MORAG ‘Well, look after them and let me know if he does collect them. Make sure they get enough food and water and let me know when he collects them.’
A MONTH PASSES
MORAG ‘Murdo, come into the office a minute. I have just been contacted by the Chief Executive in Edinburgh. He tells me a letter of complaint from a Shaunie MacLeman was received last week by the Chairman, Sir Hector. He has told the Chief Executive to get it sorted out. So he has instructed me to get back to him with a full report. Have missed anything out?’
MURDO ‘No ma’am, I have told you all I know.’
MORAG ‘If you have no more to add I will press on with the enquiry. Right in the middle of the English school holidays, this is all I need. I assume the pigs are still healthy and getting fed and watered.’
MURDO ‘Yes ma’am.’
TWO MONTHS LATER
MORAG ‘Murdo, will you come into my office? This complaint is getting like War and Peace. I went out to visit mr Macleman. He tells me that he has been getting the run around. His letter of complaint was returned and he was told that on receipt of his complaint letter, they had spoken to you Murdo and you told them he had refused to receive the consignment or pay the charges and in these circumstances, he in fact had no claim against the Claims Department as they only dealt with service complaints and disputes, tariffs and overcharge issues on the other hand have to be addressed with the Tariff Department and he should write to them. Mr Macleman told me he did indeed re address his complaint to the Tariffs Department. He has yet to get a response. Why did you not tell me that they, Claims Department had been in touch with you? I will now have to contact them.’
MURDO ‘Sorry ma’am, it slipped my mind, it is so busy here and you are away a lot. I must have forgotten’.
MORAG ‘And you think I am not busy’?
MURDO ‘No I didn’t mean to like that. Oh’ I should have told you something else.’
MORAG ‘Well, what would that be?’
MURDO ‘I got a letter from the Tariff Department.’
MORAG (now sounding mightily irritated but trying to keep that in check) Oh you did, did you. And what would that be about. I hope it was not about our new pets. Well, was it?’
MURDO ‘Erm, actually it was. I probably should have said.’
MORAG ‘Did you reply to the letter, or were you going to let me see it? Or was that one of the many times I was away and, heaven forbid, you forgot?’
MURDO ‘I did reply.’
MORAG ‘Did you now, did you!? What did it say and what pearls of wisdom did you respond with?’
MURDO ‘Mr Morgan, head of Tariffs asked me why I refused to apply domestic pet rates? Then he asked let him know what the condition of the consignment was on receipt of his letter?’
MORAG (now really irritated) Did he now? Well, now that you have taken MY job over, what did you say to Mr Morgan, Head of the Tariff Department. I can hardly wait.
MURDO ‘He was asking about the condition of the pigs. He didn’t explain why. Was he setting a trap? Was he suggesting I call out a pig doctor to check their pulses, I mean, I am not a Vet. I knew there had been two when they came off the ferry, and then I counted eight and I knew they were eating like cairt horses, cause they were getting to be some size and I guessed they were healthy enough. So I wrote back to Mr Morgan and told him that as far as I understood, pigs is pigs and because they is pigs, I will charge what pigs cost and what the rule book says and stop harassing me because I knows the rules as well as him. As to health, I informed him they were well and hoped he was also. I added that I had paid five pounds for cabbages and asked if I should add that to the bill?
MORAG ‘Did he respond to your letter?’
MURDO ‘He did.’
MORAG ‘Well what did he say and where is that letter?’
MURDO ‘ He agreed with my reasoning,’ that pigs is pigs and that Rule 57, General Instruction to Agents, clearly states that agents shall collect from the consignee, in addition to the proper fare for transport, all costs of provender. He then gave his authority for me to collect same from consignee.
MORAG ‘Well, did you?’
MURDO ‘ Well this is where it gets a bit tricky. I tried, of course I tried. I took all the pigs, eight of them, a mammy a daddy and six wee squealers across on the Rib to Shaunie at his island croft on Scalpay. But when I told him he would have to pay for their feed as well as the transport he slammed the door on me and refused to pay. So I had to bring them back.
MORAG ‘Is that it?’
MURDO ‘No when I told Mr Morgan what happened he told me to wait until he got more information.’
MORAG ‘And did he get back to you then?’
MURDO ‘Yes.’
MORAG ‘When’?
MURDO ‘Yesterday’.
MORAG ‘So what are we doing?’
MURDO ‘Mr Morgan said he had spoken to a zoologist and had been told that a Guinea Pig is more like a rabbit, sorry, I meant to say, a Peruvian Guinea Pig, and, certainly the way they keep filling my cages up, I have to agree, and he added, Mr Morgan that is, they are more a domestic pet than a real pig.’
MORAG ‘So what are you saying?’
MURDO ‘I have to treat the creatures as domestic pets and charge Shaunie that rate.’
MORAG ‘Do you mean after all this, mr MacLeman was right all the time?’
MURDO ‘Yes ma’am. But wait till he gets the bill for cabbages.’
MORAG ‘What cabbages?’
MURDO ‘The cabbages I have been buying to feed the blighters. All a hundred and ten of them.’
MORAG ‘How many?’
MURDO ‘One hundred and ten.’
MORAG ‘That is a lot of cabbages!’
MURDO ‘No, not cabbages, PIGS,’
MORAG A hundred and ten Pigs, are you kidding me. Where are they?’
MURDO ‘Everywhere!’
MORAG (Now Furious)
‘Right, get them loaded and get them out of here and over to Shaunie ‘the net’, or mr Macleman or whatever his bloody name is and don’t come back until it’s done. And don’t charge him anything, just get rid of them.
Then come right in here to see me, I have some things to say to you and you might not like what you hear. How dare you go behind my back. You are an agent not a manager. Get out.’
(It is now nearly four months since the complaint.)
MURDO loads the crates onto two rigid inflatable boats, that will be RIBs to you and me, and heads out to Shaunie’s island croft. Once there the crates are taken from the boats and wheeled over to Shaunie’s place.
In the middle of unloading them at Shaunie’s a neighbouring crofter ambles along and asks if he can help. No problem says Murdo, ‘we’ve nearly finished. I thought Shaunie would have come out by now.’
‘You’ll be lucky’ said the crofter, ‘Shaunie moved out.’
‘Moved, what do you mean.’asked Murdo.
‘Gone,’ said the crofter, ‘take a look round the front of the croft.’
Puzzled, Murdo goes to the front. Nailed to a post in the garden was a sign, SOLD
MURDO ‘What does that mean?’ he asked the crofter.
CROFTER ‘Ach, did you no ken. Shaunie headed to the mainland, a couple o’ weeks ago, England somewhere I think? ‘He didn’ae say.’
Pigs, more bother than they are worth. What do you think Hector? Aye they are Betty, aye they are.
FOOTNOTE; no animals, agricultural, domestic or simply pets were harmed during this tale.
