There would be hundreds of shoppers today. The rush would begin about eight in the morning. This would coincide with dad asking, “What should I get your mom for Christmas?” Then he would dash off and return just before lunch. He probably waited until Christmas Eve, wishing to experience the adrenaline for himself.
Lunchtime was an absolute zoo. You could barely move in the store. The phone rang non-stop. The conversation was always the same, “What time do you close today? …. Six? Oh my God, I hope I make it”. Hot items included everything from Tru-Turn Hooks, to the Humminbird #LCR-4ID. (Remember those?) Mom would write up dozens of gift certificates.
Foot traffic would lighten up about two in the afternoon. Our voices would be weak from answering product questions. Mom would go home early to start dinner. The next rush would begin about four o’clock. We would run our legs off until closing. To be honest, we enjoyed it all. Our customers knew we cared.
“Big Bob” would bring in pizza. Ron would reappear with a “Warsteiner” six-pack in each hand. Raising our bottles, we would toast the season and our fellowship. The teasing and jokes would begin in earnest. We had a two-beer limit, so the “party” would be short. Then we would head home to our anxious families.
Sixteen years later, we insist on a Warsteiner beer every Christmas Eve. We celebrate the tradition that started in the backroom of our tackle shop.
To our trusted Tim’s Tackle Box friends, thank you for the fond memories.