A Goat Tale

Ed Gonzales thought he was a funny guy and a major league prankster, but most everyone else thought he was a major pain in the ass. That was about to change. After a distinguished career of being an asshole, the second rule of the car business, “What Goes Around, Comes Around” finally kicked in for Ed.

Big time.

Ed worked at Hayward Ford with a fellow named Art Horsfall. Art liked to bring a bag lunch to work with him each day, a practice that was somewhat unusual for a Car Man. For some reason Ed thought it was amusing to sneak into Art’s office, take a bite out of his sandwich, and put it back in its wrapper. Funny, huh? Ed never tried to cover up his crime. As a matter of fact he was proud of it, acting gleeful when he was able to say, “Gotcha!” to a pissed off Art.

After experiencing Ed’s warped sense of humor a few times, Art decided to do something about it. He lived on a small ranch outside of town, and on that ranch he raised goats. Art got the idea to take a little goat shit and mix it into some tuna salad. He then made a sandwich out of the concoction and took it to work with him.
The stage was set. Art placed the lunch sack where he knew Ed would find it. Ed took the bait, sneaking a couple of bites out of the sandwich after which he carefully returned it to the bag.

Later, after Art was certain Ed had done his dirty deed, he proceeded with the second phase of his plan: public humiliation. There was an alcove on the side of the showroom where the salesmen gathered to drink coffee. Art spotted Ed out there bullshitting with a couple of the guys. Art went over, got a cup of coffee out of the machine, and went over to join them. He waited a couple of minutes then casually asked, “So, Ed. How’d you like the sandwich?

Ed grinned and said, “It was great! Thanks a lot!”

“Did you notice anything different?”

“Notice what?”

“I mixed goat shit in it.”

The result was instant. The salesmen went crazy with laughter. Ed paled and ran into the bathroom, suddenly feeling sick. Word spread throughout the dealership and eventually, up and down Auto Row. Ed Gonzalez was now a part of Car Man history.

Ed was highly upset about this, of course, but there was really nothing he could do about it. No one had forced him to take a bite out of a sandwich that was not his to begin with. Management attempted to quell the torrent of ridicule, but if you know Car Men, it would not, could not, end so easily.

Ed had one eye that wandered. When you spoke to him, you never quite knew which one to look at. “One eye on a helicopter, the other on a submarine”, as someone described it. Ed had a favorite place to watch for customers at the front of the showroom. For months when we would see him there, we would hide out of sight, and call out, “Baa! Baa!” Ed would spin around, his good eye desperately trying to find the culprit. Invariably, he could not and would turn and storm off in a huff.

The teasing eventually eased off, not because we did not still think it was funny, but because Ed seemed to be cured of his smart-ass ways. There were no more stolen bites from sandwiches, and he actually became somewhat human. A couple of years passed. Nothing had been said in a long time. And then…

We were working at a new dealership, Hayward Datsun where my brother, Danny, was the general manager. Some of us had followed him there including the infamous Ed Gonzalez. On the weekends we had a young lady answering the telephones. Her name was Barbara Horsfall, Art Horfall’s lovely teenage daughter. Danny had been talking to her about her father and life out on the ranch when he started thinking, “Wouldn’t it be funny…”

It was at a Saturday morning sales meeting. We had all gathered to listen to the bullshit that is the stuff of all sales meetings, but at the end of this particular meeting, Danny announced, “Ed, we have a special gift for you.” He pointed toward the doorway where we spotted Barbara leading a goat on a leash. She entered the office, and as if on cue, the goat crapped all over the floor!

Ed’s mouth dropped. He stammered something and ran out of the building like he was on fire! No one ever saw him again. Even when his final check was ready, he sent his wife in to get it.

Over the years I have often wondered what happened to Ed Gonzales. We had worked with him on and off for a few years, and it was as if he had fallen off the edge of the earth. I think most of us felt a little bad about the incident. Over time Ed had mellowed to a fairly decent guy, but as Car Men sometimes say, “I guess he just couldn’t take a joke”.

A lot of time has passed, and I have shouldered my fair share of guilt. But when I think back on the goat shit sandwich incident, I cannot help but say in my mind,

“Baa! Baa!”


Talk to you later,


David