In a quiet suburban corner lived a proud beekeeper, buzzing with excitement at the prospect of sharing fresh honey with the neighborhood kids. Word had spread faster than a swarm on a sugar spill, and our keeper declared, “I’ve got this no need for the full beekeeper’s armor!” He skipped the smoker’s gentle hiss and tossed on a pair of jeans with a hole in the knee.
“What could go wrong?” he chuckled. (Dad joke break: Why do bees have sticky hair? Because they use a honeycomb!) He lifted the honey super like a rent collector demanding his dues. A single sting on his hand barely registered so he packed on another, just to get the full membership experience of the “Sting Club, unlimited plan.” Then, as if on command, the hive erupted in a mighty buzz.
Hundreds of bees poured out, and our keeper realized too late he was more “bee’s knees” than “Bee-vangelist.” Fleeing toward home, he peeled off his makeshift gear only to find his brand-new door lock sealing him out, suitless and defenseless. “I guess my locksmith really nailed the job,” he muttered through a chorus of stings. (Dad joke break: What do you call a bee that can’t make up its mind?
A maybe!) After what felt like an hour of running circles and a face full of stings his young son ambled out. “Dad, are you reenacting a cartoon?” the boy asked. Our keeper paused, breathless and humbled, and realized: he’d rushed, he’d skimped, and he’d forgotten to respect the work and the workers. The following week, he returned to the hive in full regalia, smoker gently hissing, mindset set on “respect mode.” The bees greeted him calmly, and the honey flowed.
The young beekeeper realized rushing through any good work only leads to unexpected stings and locked doors. Slow down, honor the process, and you’ll find the sweetest rewards come to those who suit up and show respect.
By Matthew Willis · From the August 2025 (archive attribution) issue.