Oil & Ink

Chapter 11: Hank Tucker

Hank Tucker was born and raised in Wander, South Dakota. He didn't consider himself to be a man about town, but after being here for so long, he felt like he ran into someone he knew no matter where he went.

That's one reason why he was surprised to see a note from Sara — one of his employees — on his desk about someone coming in looking for him. Anyone in town knew Hank only came in early on Tuesday mornings to accept shipments and make the next schedule.

The note didn't say what this person was looking for, so Hank figured whoever it was — likely someone from out of town — would get ahold of him somehow. Hank heard from some of the other business owners in town that a man was making his way from spot to spot, offering to purchase places. He wasn't aware of the details, but if this was the guy mentioned in the note, Hank would find out soon enough.

It was 7 am, and the shipment usually came around 9. He always used this time to make the schedule. He had a computer, of course, but the schedule was just done on paper and lived on a clipboard by the backdoor. It was a system that worked for him and therefore, it didn't need to be messed with.

Hank bought the building for Tucker's a little more than 30 years ago. His family owned a general store in another part of town for decades. Hank grew up helping his dad run the place. Sometimes he worked the register, some days he did inventory. Although the rules of a truck stop would be different than the general store, Hank was confident he could make it work.

At the time, Tucker's was the sole stop right off the exit. Dina's was there, if drivers were willing to venture back a few miles. But there was no Stuckey's; nothing else. On one hand, it meant anyone who stopped went to Tucker's. On the other hand, Tucker's wasn't a name people often stopped for.

About 10 years after Tucker's opened, the Stuckey's was built. That changed business in good ways and bad, but Tucker's had survived. Some years were better than others, of course, but Hank had the business down pat. He knew what customers wanted and when to place the orders to keep the shelves full.

Stuckey's had the brand name and the pecan log, but Tucker's had local charm and a tattoo shop. The placement of Tucker's had put them in an area to be zoned for tattooing — something Hank didn't even know about until he was approached by an artist in the early years. It seemed sort of weird, but the artist did good work and paid his booth rent, so Hank never thought much else of it.

Over the years, he had artists come and go, but someone else always filled the corner shop and it gave Tucker's an edge that Hank couldn't have planned. Hank met Charlie a few weeks after he was hired — Hank left it up to his manager to make the hiring decisions — and he seemed like a nice guy. All Hank really knew was that he paid his booth rent and he saw pictures of the different tattoos he did. It seemed like he did pretty good business.

In general, Hank had no complaints about his business. It kept him busy enough but left him time to work on his farm and see his family. It funded his hobby — working on old bikes — and created a life for him, his wife, and their two children.

When Hank purchased the building, he wasn't thinking too much about the future — aside from just hoping the purchase would be a smart one — but once he got married, he hoped Tucker's would remain a family business. His son, his firstborn, had been helping run the shop for the last few years, and it was always assumed he would take it over when Hank was ready to retire.

Hank heard the jingle of the front door. It was a sound he'd all but drowned out over the years. He knew the cashier would great whomever was there, and Hank would knock out this schedule. It was the busy season, so he was starting to double on his staff's schedules.