THE TOWN THAT WORK BUILT

THE TOWN THAT WORK BUILT

The Midwestern hamlet of Montvale is situated far off any beaten path.  The fact that the community exists at all is something of an oddity.  Its name is also peculiar as there are no mountains or valleys for hundreds of miles.  Michael Clark, a young man from St. Louis, Missouri, was roaming around the United States as a lark before settling in on what he hoped would be a career in banking.  He drove his little Mazda Miata convertible without the benefit of GPS and with only a cellphone to tether him to his family and friends. 

After making several turns off the interstate just to see what lay down the country roads, he found himself on the outskirts of Montvale.  It seemed like a pleasant little place and probably worth spending an hour or two.  As he drove into town, an old gentleman flagged him down.  “Sorry sir, no vehicles are allowed downtown.”

Michael suddenly noticed that there were no cars, no trucks, no bicycles, or any vehicles at all on the main drag through town.  While he found this somewhat unusual, he asked the man, “Is there a place I can park?  I’d like to spend a little time here and perhaps get something to eat.”

“I guess you can park over there.  No one’s every asked me before.  We don’t really get visitors here.”

“Thanks.”   Michael parked his car.  He left the top down as he didn’t sense any prospect of theft.  He walked to where he had encountered the old man but found that he had gone.  “I guess I’ll walk into town and see what’s cookin’,” Michael thought to himself.

The small downtown area was only two blocks long and the one cross street seemed to lead to residential areas.  Michael found a small diner, so he went in.    He sat at a counter and looked around.  The few people in the diner seemed to be enjoying their lunches but he noticed that no one seemed to be talking.

“Can I get something for you?” the lone waitress behind the counter asked.

Michael glanced at the menu.  “I think I’ll have your blue plate special. And I’d like water and coffee.”

“Okay, it’ll be right up,” the waitress remarked,  She seemed pleasant enough.

“This seems to be a nice little town.”

“Yes it is,” the waitress replied.

“What do people do for a living around here?”

“Oh, this and that,” was her curt but polite reply.  She walked over to clear some dishes from a table.

Michael ate his lunch and found it to be very tasty.  He enjoyed a wonderful piece of apple pie with coffee.  “This has been a wonderful meal.  My compliments to the chef.”

“I’ll let him know,” the waitress replied.  “Would you like your check?”

“Yes, thank you.”

Michael glanced at the check and noticed the by the letters “BPS” was the number 30 and by the letters “COF” was the number 5.   “What do these numbers mean?   Surely my bill is more than 35 cents.”

“Oh, we don’t take money here.  No place in town takes money.  Everyone works to pay their bill.  Your bill comes to 35 minutes of work.”

“That’s odd.  I’ve never seen that before.  What work do I do?”

“Oh, there’s lots of things you can do.  You can wash dishes, mop the floor, clean the bathrooms.  What’s your pleasure?”

“Well, I guess I can wash some dishes.”

“Come on back to the kitchen.”

Michael wiped his mouth and hands and followed the waitress into the kitchen.  She gave him some gloves and an apron and pointed to the sink what had a stack of dishes and silverware sitting by it.  “Knock yourself out.  I’ll let you know when you’ve completed your 35 minutes.”

As he washed the dishes he looked over to the cook.  “The blue plate special was wonderful.”

“Glad you enjoyed it,” the cook responded cheerfully.

“Have you lived here long?”

“All my life.”

“This seems like a nice village.”

“It’s a great little place.  Everyone here loves it.”

Michael noticed that there were several compost bins off to the side and that nothing was wasted.”

“I see you are all into recycling and composting.”

“Always have been.  Waste not, want not.”

“This place is pretty isolated. Does it ever get boring?”

“Oh no, not that we notice anyway.  There’s always lots of work to do.”

The waitress came back.  “Well, you’ve paid for your lunch. Looks like you’ve done a good job here.”

“I had lots of practice growing up.”

As they walked back into the dining room Michael commented, “This idea of paying for things through work seems like a good idea, but what if you don’t have time?”

“Oh,” the waitress replied, “people build up tabs. Sometimes there’ll be several hours of work on a tab and people will just knock it out once a week or so.  It’s never a problem.”

“Thanks for the great lunch.  I think I’ll look around a while and then head on out.”

“It was our pleasure. Enjoy your stay.”

Michael left the diner and proceeded down the street.  The saw a little drugstore and decided to pop in to take a look.  It had a very old-fashioned feel about it.  He found some mints and went up to the clerk to pay.  “How much do I owe?”

“We don’t take money.  The mints will be five minutes of work.”

“Just like the diner.  So what do I do?”

“You can do a little stocking if you like.” The clerk was very friendly and pleasant.  He gave Michael a box of candy to fill up some candy bins.  “Here are some gloves to wear while you’re stocking.”

“Thanks.”  After a few minutes the clerk came over and asked, “All done?”

“Yes, I guess so.”

“Well, you still have a minute to go so why don’t you tale this rag and clean that counter.  Here are some more gloves.”  The clerk took back the stocking gloves and handed Michael some cleaning gloves.

It took only a minute for Michael to clean the counter.

“That’s it.  You did a great job.”

“Thanks.  So everyone works off their bills?”

“Yep,” the clerk responded cheerfully.

“I’m a budding banker, so I’d like sort of like to visit a bank.  Is there on in town?”

“No,” the clerk smiled, “we don’t need one.”

“Well, you certainly have to pay for some things don’t you?  How do you pay for the things you stock in your store?”

“Everything’s made right here.”

Michael looked at the mints he had “purchased” and noticed that he didn’t recognize the brand.  He then looked around and didn’t see a single brand he recognized.  “Wow, this is incredible.  Everything’s made right here?”

“That’s right.  You’ll have to forgive me, but I’ve got some work to do.  Bills to pay, you know.”

Michael picked up on the fact that everyone in Montvale used a barter system.  No one worked for a paycheck.  He wondered how they managed to avoid paying social security and Medicare taxes and pay fees to government agencies.  He surmised that as far as the government was concerned, Montvale didn’t exist.

He left the drugstore and continued to explore the village.  He noticed that everyone -- men, women, and children – was busy working at something.  They all seemed quite content.  He stopped an older lady on the street to ask her about the hamlet.  “This is the most unusual town I’ve ever been to. There is no money.  No one seems to work for a paycheck.  Everyone is busy and everyone seems very happy. It seems too good to be true.  How does the town do it”

“Young man,” the lady gently but firmly replied, “I’ve live here all my life and can’t imagine any other place I’d rather be.”

“Are you married?  Did you have children?”

“My husband died a long time ago.  I had three children and one still lives here.”

“I’m so sorry about your husband.  So, two of your children left Montvale.”

“No.  They died.”

“That’s so tragic.  I’m sorry.”

“Thank you for your sympathy young man.  They didn’t like to work, so they died.”

“How’s that again?”

“In Montvale, you work or you die.  Have a nice day.”  The old woman walked away.

Michael started to have an uneasy feeling about the little village.  He decided he’d better head on out. As he walked toward his car, the old man he had encountered when he arrived came up to him. 

“Are you ready to settle up?” the old man asked in a very friendly tone

“What do you mean?  I worked off my meal and I worked off my mints.  What else do I owe?”

“You spent forty-five minutes talking to people while you were here.  That means that together they spent that amount of time talking to you.  You owe the town 45 minutes of work.”

“I’m sorry, but that’s ridiculous.  Talking to people isn’t like buying something.  It’s just talking.”

“Did you get something from talking to them?” the old man asked.

“Of course, it was very pleasant.  They were all very nice and friendly.  It made me feel good.”

“Well,” the old man grinned, “then it was worth something to you.”

“Okay, what do I need to do?”  Michael was irritated but tried to hide his budding anger.

“Why don’t you clean up part of the cemetery?  You can do other things, but the cemetery is right here. And, let’s see, we’ve been talking about two minutes so that adds two minutes to your bill.”

“Wait a minute, you came up to me.  You started our conversation.  I got nothing from it but the realization that I had to work to pay for just talking to people.”

“That was something, wasn’t it?”

“I suppose.  I’d better get to work before I owe more.”

“Well, there’s a rake right over there.  See you in 48 minutes.”

Michael thought it was 47 minutes, but didn’t want to add any more to his bill, so he kept quiet, got the rake, and started working.  As he raked he noticed the grave markers.  He was shocked to see so many graves where the deceased had died at an early age, many just teenagers.  As he raked, his anger at the town, and especially the old man, grew to a boiling point.  “This is stupid!  There’s no one here.  My car is right here.  I can take off and just forget about this place.”  He put the rake back where he had found it and walked toward his car.  He knew he had only been raking only about 15 minutes but he didn’t care. 

As he walked out of the cemetery toward his car, he noticed a grave marker.  On it was inscribed the name “Michael Clark.”  His birth year was there, along with the year of his death – the current year. Michael ran to his car, hopped in, and raced off toward the road.  His car hit a tree.

From a distance, the old man stood silently and bowed his head.  Then he smiled, put on some gloves, and went back to work.