Chapter 14
FOURTEEN
The ball bounces off the wall as I throw it, and Winston leaps to catch it midair with a tail wag that almost sends a lamp crashing to the floor.
“My god,” I mutter, lurching forward just in time to grab it, then push it farther back on the side table out of the danger zone.
Winston just wags his tail even harder as he plops the ball on my lap, then sits in front of me with his eyes locked on it like it might grow legs and run away.
I toss it again, then lean back against the couch as he makes a dramatic effort to run across the slippery floor to grab it. Then he takes it to his bed in the corner of the living room and starts aggressively chewing it.
“Well, what’s the point of that?” I ask, watching as he bites it so hard it cracks, and he looks extremely proud of himself.
I sigh and lean my head back, letting my eyes drift out the window to the white clouds slowly moving across the blue sky over the city skyline.
It’s almost noon on a Wednesday. And I’m home, in my sweatpants, talking to my dog.
But… it beats working for a soulless conglomerate that sees nothing but dollar signs where I see people trying to do right by their land, their families, and the communities their farms hold together.
The second they told me my role would be absorbed into Regional Yield Strategy, and I’d be expected to apply their blanket efficiency targets across every operation, without accounting for real-world farm or transport-specific conditions, I quit. Right there, on the spot.
And it felt pretty fucking good to tell them where to shove it.
In not so many words…
But now, I live in one of the most expensive cities in the country… without a job, a plan, or even a decent fallback.
It was hard enough to find a company like VerTerra in the first place.
One that actually valued sustainability, gave a fuck about data integrity, and let me build something from the ground up.
I started with them right out of school, and I spent years shaping my role into what it was.
I turned it into a high-level multi-farm support role, and I was making a difference with tools real people could actually use.
But now VerTerra belongs to SynGrow Global, and so does half the ag-tech industry in Canada. And they’ll probably own the other half soon.
Winston shakes his head side to side as rubber pieces go flying, and I turn to look at the mess he’s created.
“Why do we even get them if you just destroy them all after two throws?”
But all he does is smile.
At least he’s happy.
I reach for my phone beside me and check the time. Finally, it’s noon.
I tap on Dad’s name and lift the phone to my ear. It rings only once before he picks up.
“Hey, Levi,” he says.
I hear the sound of gravel crunching, followed by the creak like he’s walking up wooden steps.
“Hey,” I say. “Where are you?”
“Just getting home. Took lunch a little early and went for a walk.”
The familiar sound of the front door opening and closing comes through the phone, and I smile. Dad works from home, and once spring hits, he goes on a walk every day for lunch.
“Where’d you go today?”
“Just up the road. Talked to Scott for a bit, then looped around to the beach.”
I nod slowly as my chest tightens and I shift my gaze back to the clouds drifting over the buildings. “How’s he doing?”
“Pretty good,” Dad says. “One of their larger fields has been giving them trouble, so they’re in a push to optimize the rest of the farm. Sounds like a ton of work.”
I blow out a breath. “Yeah. It is.”
I just supported a large dairy farm with that last year, after they lost half their herd to a bacterial outbreak.
We had to overhaul how they tracked everything, from feed schedules to supplier timelines, so they could get their records in order and qualify for emergency funding.
I ended up building a lot of new systems for them from scratch to optimize every inch of that farm I could, and it was a solid few months of full-time work. But it’s my favourite type of work.
“Where are they at with it all?” I ask, picking at a non-existent fluff on my sweatpants.
“I’m not sure. We didn’t get into many specifics.” He chuckles. “Maybe he should call you.”
I huff out a breath of laughter. “Well, I am unemployed now.”
Dad sighs. “No leads?”
“None that I feel comfortable with,” I say, watching as Winston gets up to locate another tennis ball. But he won’t be able to, because I have them all locked away, so my floors aren’t littered in tiny rubber pieces before the day is done.
“Well…” Dad says slowly, and I hear the coffee machine brewing in the background. “Maybe it’s time to take a break. Take a couple months off and travel. Or… come visit your family for the summer.”
I smile. “Sounds boring.”
He snorts. “Watch your mouth.”
Winston appears before me, dropping a chewed-up, slobbery piece of tennis ball on my lap. Gross.
“Yeah,” I say, picking it up and tossing it onto his bed so he chases it, “I can come visit.”
“Well, don’t sound too excited,” Dad says, and I can hear the smile in his voice.
I laugh. “I am excited. Sorry, I’m just… feeling frustrated.”
“I get it,” he says. “Well, I think it will be good for you to get back here for a bit. Surround yourself with the peaceful quiet and the reason you got into this line of work in the first place.”
“Yeah…” I nod slowly. “That actually sounds nice.”
“I know it does. And make sure you tell your mother it was my idea.”
A wide smile breaks free. “Not a chance.”
“Little shit.”
I laugh. And I can’t ignore how good that feels.
“Alright, well, I have to get back to work,” Dad says. “Let us know when you’re coming.”
“I will,” I say. “Talk to you soon.”
“Have a good one.”
“You too.”
I end the call and sink back into the couch, looking out the window at the tall buildings surrounding me. Steel, glass, brick, concrete… and the sound of traffic from several stories below drift through my open window.
My eyes close, and almost immediately, it all blurs together.
The sound of the traffic turns into breeze rustling trees, and the honking and yelling from people on the sidewalks fade into the cries of seagulls. The soft fabric of the couch beneath my fingertips feels like warm, red sand… and I smile.
When I open my eyes, they land on my laptop sitting on the coffee table with multiple job sites still open.
I reach for it and pull it onto my lap. I’ve been looking in all the major cities, like Toronto, Calgary, Edmonton, Ottawa… but maybe it’s time to think smaller.
I click on the location drop-down and scroll through the provinces, trying a few mid-sized towns in Ontario, Alberta, and Manitoba. But it’s the same listings I’ve seen a dozen times. Compliance roles buried in red tape, analyst jobs reporting to VPs I’ll never meet. None of it is what I want.
As I click on the location drop-down menu again, I pause as I hover over Prince Edward Island. Then I click it.
A few results load, but they’re what I expected. Equipment sales, field service techs, seasonal contract work… the usual. But just as I’m about to close the tab, a title catches my eye.
Agricultural Operations Support Specialist.
I click on it, and let my eyes roam over the ad.
It’s a position with Island Farm Services, based in Summerside. I remember hearing about them when I first became interested in how farms manage their data. They provide support for farms across PEI in reporting, data integration, compliance, optimization…
Shit. This actually looks… ideal.
Farms contract the company for targeted support in various areas, which means I could be doing exactly what I want to be doing. I’d be working with them. I’d be supporting the people that really matter, and in the place where it all started for me…
Hm. Maybe it’s time for more than just a visit home.