It's time for another youth service project story. This one began with Brother Hack; my ward's reluctant yet faithful scoutmaster that never wanted the calling. Hack had discovered while reviewing the troop records that I and another boy had become way too comfortable in the rank of First Class. I think I had been "stuck" at there for almost a year and it suited me fine given that Brother Hack had lukewarm enthusiasm for a program that didn't matter to him. Nevertheless, the pushy YM prez, Brother Blowhard, attempted to get Hack to run a tighter ship.

So we were volunteered for a scouting service project at the church farm on a Saturday. I packed some fruit and granola bars for a snack. Nobody was at the farm when my mom dropped me off. About 20 minutes later, two more scouts arrived, but Brother Hack was nowhere in sight. We waited in the equipment shed because it was raining pretty steady in the foothills. We signed ourselves in on the official stake farm clipboard. Even though it was nearing the end of April, only 4 other members had done any work at the farm.

The church owned a pear tree farm and we were sent to cut off "suckers" that were growing on the trunk of the trees. So we waited 'til 9 to see if Hack would show up or if the steady drenching rain would let up. So we began the misery of walking in the rain through the rows and snipping the small shooters on an occasional tree.

About half way through the orchard, the official farm manager rode up on a quad bike. He asked us nicely, "What are y'all doing out here on a rainy day?" After we told him our plight, he said "How come nobody tells me when people are coming out to the farm." He told us to climb into the trailer so we could go back to the shed in order to get out of the rain.

Once at the shed, we again wrote our names for the farm manager. To say that he was annoyed that we were at the farm alone and unsupervised was big understatement. Of course, we gladly divulged everything that we knew about "Brother Bob Hack." Yes, we wanted the manager to look him up in the church stake directory and give him an earful!

About an hour later, the farm manager came back to the shed from his private residency on the farm to let us know that Hack wouldn't be coming until after 1 pm. He did not want us to do any more work in the rain. We were told to not touch anything while waiting inside of the shed. We spent the next 3 hours telling stories, making jokes and pretending to have tractor races while sitting in the driver seats.

Finally, Hack showed up. I could tell that he was annoyed. One boy remembered that he had left his jacket on the workbench just as Hack began to back up the car. He reluctantly stopped. "You had five hours to organize your stuff." Hack barked. "Now that I am here you act carelessly. You're supposed to be prepared young man!" We all stayed quiet as we slowly bumped along the gravel lined road. All of a sudden, the car sedan screeched to a stop. Hack was staring at something for quite some. Then he backed up and fixed his gaze toward a certain row. I figured out that he must have spotted branches piled in the center of the rows so the bucket tractor could scoop them up. I was right.

"I thought you boys came out to do an honest day's worth of service. Just look over there." Hack turned his head so he could stare into our eyes. I was looking down at my wet sneakers while trying to forget that my feet were cold. Hack became angry with me. "Messy! I'm talking to you. Look at me when I'm talking to you. I want to know what's going on those cuttings."

I didn't respond, but one of the other boys did. "Sir, we followed the farm manager's instructions. We did work today. We got wet and we're hungry. We want to go home." Hack was still pissed. "This is the Lord's farm. We don't leave it any old way. Get out there now and do some work!" exclaimed Hack.

One scout said with a smirk, "Do we place these cuttings in your trunk or do you want them on your hood?" That really pushed Hack's button. Now he was riled up. He got out of his car and began yelling at all of us. All this commotion caused the farm manager to ride out on his quad bike. The manager was mortified that we scouts had disrupted his neat piles of trimmings. He yelled at us first to stop moving the cuttings. And Hack yelled back at us to continue and pay no attention to the farm worker.

So the farm manager and Hack engaged in an unrighteous shouting match. He called Hack everything from a fool to a blatant idiot. Hack of course called the manager a worthless clod and a know-nothing stooge. The farm manager had the last word and made it known that he was calling to the stake president. Sure enough, Hack was summoned by the stake executive secretary the following Sunday during the opening exercises of priesthood. Hack was eventually released as scoutmaster.

PS After Hack further reviewed our record in an effort to get us "advanced" to the Star rank, he blew another gasket! Neither of us had earned the necessary merit badges. That's when we got the no wonder you're such an underserving group of brats speech.

Not enough Hack; see this scouting story.
http://exmormon.org/phorum/read.php?2,176299,1940771#msg-1940771

Your Brother Hack tales aren't quite as polished as Don Bagley's prose but they are very enjoyable.

Please give us more tales, they are great!

Thank you for the compliment. I will try to share more of my experiences. Most of my more experiences were abnormal or unusual when compared with the normal Mormon experience.

What a world class prick and child abuser. Someone should have sicced the department of social services or specifically child protective services. He should have gone to jail.