Rivals since their first class together at Landscaping Academy fifteen years ago, Mack and Kenny often find themselves in our subdivision working side by side on neighboring homes.
Their days working together go like this: Mack sees Kenny’s 16-foot M22 L’il Giant extension ladder and raises him with his Alta Vista 10N 24-foot telescopic.
It’s spring in the suburbs, and there are Landscape Wars going on every seven houses in my neighborhood. The ploys involved are enough to have Donald Trump send his film crew down here. These two bring out their 20-foot-long, hurricane-strength mulch blowers to show who’s master and commander of shredded bark placement.
There’s covert intelligence gathering operations by the guys who work for Mack and Kenny where information is traded from listening in, taking photos, planting listening devices in the petunias, interviewing neighbors.
Stakes are high with landscaping jobs costing in the tens of thousands of dollars; it is every land architect for himself.
I’ve never employed Mack or Kenny, but I can’t say I don’t enjoy the attention of these hardy men who can talk hydrangea. In the midst of a landscape war in my cul de sac this week, Liam Neeson look-alike Mack strolled over while I was busy raking and spreading my own mulch.
He offered me his company’s card, I thanked him and let him know that his competition had offered me a card already, along with a free estimate.
He leaned against his shovel, and his gaze seared right into me. Ever so close now, he huskily whispered, “Yeah. Kenny’s a good guy. He does what he can with his 74a Bobcat. But, lemme show you somethin’… got it backed up right here in the flatbed … the RoboLift 3000. Take your bushes to heights you never imagined, lady.”
Kenny? Kenny who.