This is the ninth part of a 12 part series covering my time spent with a Kansas Whitetail outfitter during his entire bow season.
Mr. X is the absolute worst hunting client I have ever imagined, but I did not imagine him, I lived him. He was the worst nightmare of humanity. I could never adequately articulate how terrible of a person and hunter he was.
Mr. X rolled into camp during what was supposed to be the peak of the rut. On his very first hunt, I was tasked with taking him to his stand for the morning. Before we arrived at the location, I gave him a briefing that went something like this, “Mr. X, what we are going to do is park at such and such spot, turn on our red lights and I will walk you to the stand. This stand is hard to find even with the trail markings; I will get you there fast and quietly.” Mr. X’s reply went something like this, “No, you will take me to the trail and point me in the right direction, and then I will let you know when you need to come get me.”
I rolled my eyes and quietly exhaled, and gave him the benefit of the doubt. Maybe he was just being funny, or maybe I misjudged him, but as I would learn soon enough, he was just a big giant bodily orifice. One evening while hunting an open area that was baited, I informed Mr. X that since the deer will definitely be at the bait, I will mimic the local farmer and drive in to get you at dark. Mr. X said this, “No, I will get down and walk out when I want to, and then I will let you know where and when to pick me up.” I replied, “Sorry, but it is our policy for hunters to stay in their stands until shooting light is over, so I will pick you up at dark, thanks.”
Mr. X did not reply in text, and gee what do you know? When I went to pick him up at dark, he was already long gone from the stand.
This sort of back and forth went on all week and Mr. X did not get a deer. I am glad he didn’t get a deer, too. Have a good life, Mr. X.
Oh yeah, I forgot to add that Mr. X drove an 80 thousand dollar truck and the local restaurant enjoyed telling everyone how he never once left a tip for the many meals that he seemed to enjoy there. One more thing, whenever Mr. X had to give someone money, he would drop it on the ground to make them pick it up in some sort of sick head game.
