MYSTERY OF THE TEXAS TWOSTEP

CHAPTER SIXTY FIVE:

GOLD MINE

Written by Rick Archer 

At Cowboy on Monday, February 18, Jerry had explained why he thought a visit to TGIS was in my best interest.  Intrigued by Jerry's tip, on the following Sunday, February 24, I decided to see this TGIS place for myself.

Jerry was absolutely correct.  I stared dumbfounded at the giant TGIS group.  At first glance TGIS appeared to be the dance teacher equivalent of a gold mine.  Feeling awestruck, I trembled with the same fever that overcomes an old prospector when he discovers his first gold nugget. 

Unfortunately I was so certain I was going to get shot down, I was too afraid to speak to someone.  It was the return of my ancient fear of approaching strangers.  The memory of Katie popped into my head.  Katie was 'the girl who got away'.  My fear of rejection had prevented me from asking her out.  It had taken over a year to get that terrible mistake out of my system.  In fact, I had never really forgiven myself.  Five years later, I still criticized myself for my failure.  The pain of letting such a special woman go without lifting a finger was so great, I vowed not to make that mistake again.  That is when I screamed at myself to do something.

This cannot wait!   I had to make my pitch today.  If I hesitated and let some other dance instructor beat me to the spot, I would never forgive myself.  And so, despite a panic attack of nerves, I steeled myself to see this through.  As I waited for the service to end, I picked up a TGIS brochure.  It said Linda Shuler was the current leader.  I had no idea who Ms. Shuler was, but I would force myself to speak to her.  No procrastination!! 

After the service was over, I asked someone to point Ms. Shuler out to me.  The man pointed out a woman holding court 20 feet away.  Surrounded by a dozen people asking her questions, I studied her from afar.  Linda Shuler was an attractive lady, 40-something, tall with dark brown hair cut short.  My first impression was that she was very poised.  Feeling nervous, I did not want other people to listen, so I decided to wait.  I felt very out of place.  The average age in the room was 55 years old and I was 30.  I was almost certain Linda Shuler would take one look at me and decide I was too young to be able to relate to this group. 

It took a good fifteen minutes before Ms. Shuler finally turned to me.  Hoping to get her full attention, I had deliberately let everyone else go ahead of me.  Now that it was just the two of us, I introduced myself and gave a minute-long pitch about my offer to teach Western classes.  I pointed out that Urban Cowboy had stirred up a lot of interest in Western dancing and that her membership might enjoy going out dancing together.  Normally I say more when trying to sell an idea.  However, my instinct suggested I hush up and see what her initial reaction was.  Linda Shuler stood there looking at me for ten seconds without any expression.  Then she smiled.

"Hey, sounds like fun!  Come back next and bring me a flyer with details of your class.  I will approve it then." 

That was all Linda said.  She abruptly turned and walked off.  As I watched Linda Shuler leave, I stood there frozen doing my best Greek statue impression.  I was in total shock.  Oh my God, Linda said yes! 

This was an incredible moment.  The entire transaction had taken maybe 75 seconds.  It involved 60 seconds of presentation on my part, ten seconds... if that much... of decision on her part and five seconds to give permission.  Linda Shuler had not asked a single question.  She simply took everything I said at face value, told me what to do, then left. 

Good grief.  Here was a woman I had never met in my life.  Linda Shuler had never heard of me.  No one had introduced us nor had anyone put in a good word for me ahead of time.  Nor did she ask a single question.  I was a total stranger, yet it had only taken her ten seconds to give me this chance.  How was this possible?  I did not know there was that much trust in strangers still left in this world.    In fact, this was so easy, it scared me.  For a lucky break of this magnitude, wasn't I supposed to offer my first-born child?  I wondered if Linda Shuler was serious or if she had just said that to get rid of me so she could go have lunch with her friends.  Well, there was only one way to find out.  I vowed to make that flyer and come back next Sunday. 

I returned to TGIS with my flyer the following  week.  The date was Sunday, March 2.  As I stood in line for my turn to see Linda Shuler, yet again I found myself trembling.  Fortunately, to my vast relief, I discovered that Linda was good for her word.  After a brief scan of the flyer, Linda took out a pen and initialed the page.  Then she grabbed a nearby TGIS brochure.  She pointed out the logo, then handed the brochure to me. 

"You need to cut out the TGIS Logo from this leaflet and paste it onto your dance flyer.  The combination of the TGIS Logo plus my signature will let the members know your flyer has my authorization.  I see you plan to hold your classes in March.  I don't think that is a good idea.  TGIS is a volunteer organization.  We do not have the resources to publicize your upcoming class, so you will need to do it yourself.  For that reason, I recommend you use the entire month of March to promote your class, then start the first week in April."

"What do you suggest I do?"

"You should visit TGIS every Sunday in March.  Find one of the empty tables in the hall and sit there.  Make copies of your flyer and distribute them each Sunday before and after service.  Good luck." 

And with that, Linda moved on to the next person.  Our second conversation was almost as brief as our first.  It was over in 90 seconds.  The magnitude of the moment overwhelmed me.  Through her 'Simple Act of Kindness'... insignificant to Linda, but incredibly important to me... I believed she had handed me a golden opportunity. 

This was the last time I would ever see Linda Shuler.  The sum total of our contact was less than three minutes, but she would become immortal in my memory nonetheless.