7-11 My Lucky Day

7/11
It was my lucky day -  the first day of the next part of my life.

The company I worked for for 30 years had closed its doors.  I had stayed on for a few weeks to set up the liquidation site waukeshaheating.com, but that's all done now, too.

I had never been unemployed for more than a week, so I had to be very strict with myself.  There would be no unscheduled moments of the day.

Fernanda at 4pm

By 6 am I'm reporting to my workplace -  but first, Coffee! The only place open at that time of the day is McDonald's - Steve and Mary are both sleeping in, so their places are closed - I know how much Steve needs his beauty sleep... But coffee at McDonald's  - it's not such bad coffee, and it's only $1.00 there, even for a large. And the kids behind the counter are too sleepy even to give you the stupid look.  So, with my coffee and my briefcase in hand, I head to my office - it's actually my wife's office, at the shopping center, but she doesn't get there until two in the afternoon, so don't tell her, OK?   And there, I spend the first four hours of each and every day checking job listings, filling out applications, and updating the resume.

About 90 hours of work

For those of you who haven't looked for a job lately, the shaky clipboard application on a folding chair in front of the personnel office window is a thing of the past.  Online applications are the way it's done now, checked by robots as they are submitted, so that everything is filled out properly. Good thing  about the on-line applications - at big places where there are multiple openings, you can apply for multiple jobs at different times, and be ignored by six or seven people at once, or maybe they even have robots to ignore you, to save them the trouble.

There are robots which read your resumes that you upload as *.pdf files, and the robots sometimes fill out much of the application for you.  They're not to good at getting the information in the right blanks, though, so check their work thoroughly!  I've imagined myself working at lots of places already, and trying to get those places to imagine me there as well.  There was a nasty scam where they created a really attractive job description, and as soon as they had your informatioin, your mailbox fills up with online college recruiters.

Morning View

My web page clients were happy.  I finished everything in-house the first week I was off.  Check out weeimagine.com and joyceskylightcourt.com.

And,  betting against myself, I'm beginning to market retirement facilities for daytime music jobs, something I've never been able to offer,  before.  I enjoy playing piano for skilled-care centers, and the residents appreciate my musical tastes more than most other audiences.

So, that's mainly what I've been doing.  Applications and then catching up on stuff around the house later in the day.  I've applied about 10 gallons of Thompson's water seal and nine gallons of paint, 1000 lbs of scalloped paver edge, 10 lbs of Liquid Nails, and 12 lbs of Alex,  in the past two weeks.

I've never been out of work for so long, and I feel funny about being places I never used to be during the daytime, afraid someone will ask "Got the day off?"  But nobody really cares; I should get used to it, and enjoy some of it.  Weekends are different, too.  What are we resting up from?  That's why I've got to be so strict with myself about keeping the hours, and keeping the hours productive. And I'm steering clear of Facebook and Twitter for now, because it's so easy to turn minutes into hours there.  I desperately don't want to become one of those unkempt slugs sitting around Steve's place all day, looking coolly down their noses at someone who comes into the joint with paint on his shirt. They love humanity, but hate people.

So, here I am treading the fine line between sanity and self-respect. I'm writing this because it's raining when I was planning on painting, so the time was an unexpected gift from God.  Thanks!

Thanks for listening and contributing. I'd love to hear from you.

Things I Didn't Say, Today

Sunday morning.  It promised to be less than 100 degrees today, but I was taking no chances based on past fallacious forecasts.  I got up at 5 am, and I was determined to get the outdoor work done before it got hot out.  My wife was still sleeping, so I had to get out on the wrong side of bed.

I arrived at the job site.  The Beautiful Pagoda needed to be treated with Thompson's Water Seal.  It looks innocent enough from a distance, but once you arrive at the top, you can see that on top of the beams between the pillars holding the whole thing together, a row of joists (there are ten) supports a row of 20-foot long pieces of 2 x 2 treated lumber - 37 individual pieces.  And it all was very dry, thirsting for the 5-Year Protection of Thompson's Water Seal.  Believe me, we've got so much goddam wood that I hold Mr. Thompson personally to that Five-Year thing, and will not re-apply the Water Seal a minute before that five year period has expired.  

Best to start at the top, so that everything drips downward.  The gravity here in Wisconsin is simply overwhelming this year.  I think it's something to do with El Nino.  The 2 x 2 was adequate to support my more-than adequate weight.  But the gravity was very intense on my knees, so I decided to negotiate the job sitting down.  I perched cross-legged on top of the 2x2s, painted three rows, then hopped along to the left, and when I reached the other end of the 20-foot piece, I moved backward, and hopped back to the right.  All in all, just like a little typewriter. Ding!  I must have negotiated about twelve miles on my dupa.  Usually when I work with treated lumber I end up with a nasty sliver, usually under my fingernail.  Well, this time, I got the sliver, but not in the finger.

So, when the fat sow across the street gets out on her front porch and starts pointing and laughing at me, in a mean, cigarette-tainted voice, I was simply not in the mood for levity.  I did not scream to her "I'm closer to heaven up here on the Monkey Bars than you'll ever be, and I've got more than three teeth, too! And I don't sound like a tubercular hyena when I laugh!  ..."


And, when I had finished the job and was heading across KK Avenue to get a coffee at Steve's (10:30 am, my first coffee of the day), the one thing I was hoping not to hear was a lecture on Street Safety.  And yet, some fat ass with a white moustache and an annoying womanish whinny of a voice started to lecture me on waiting for the "walk" light.  I felt fully capable of being able to discern something as large as an automobile, and I didn't tell him that "I don't need the advice of some sissy-voiced walrus who can't cross the street without help from the government.  Look both ways before crossing, you nitwit!".  


And things got worse.  There were people standing around the order desk at Steve's, I presumed that they were waiting for their orders.  I stood by the pastry counter, where you're supposed to stand, to get waited on when your turn comes.  And some little goateed 3g texter, standing on the other side of the register -  got waited on before me with all his #$%# chai with extra espresso shots prepared a certain fussy way, with a sprig of free-range basil, no doubt.  I just wanted a black coffee, and I wanted it now. I didn't tell him "Don't you know, you poor ignorant fool, that the line forms over here?"  Instead, I got behind him, where the rest of the line seemed to be forming, for today.


In front of me was a little girly-boy, he looked kinda like I did in the days when I got beat up a lot, and his mommy.  Mommy told him that he liked the Belgian waffles -- he just wanted to use the bathroom.  He headed for the restroom, and of course it was locked - as any idiot knows, the key for the restroom is kept at the checkout counter.  He returned and found out about the key, while his mother was ordering the Organic Belgian Waffles.  I waited patiently - the Belgian Waffle Experience playing out in slow motion, standing between me and my coffee.


All the while, some dimwit was explaining to someone else in line that he had "taken it to channel 6 and channel 12, and so, they'd have to listen to his side now, in view of his having the media in the palm of his hand.  I had heard this word-for-word screed so many times in my Customer Service days, and was definitely NOT in the mood to hear it repeated again.  No matter what species the insect  chewing at his rectum, I did not care to hear about it.  Not today.  I had been up six hours without coffee, my head was still spinning from the dazzle of the sunlight, and my sliver was hurting.... and, luckily, just as I was about to lose it altogether, my turn in line had arrived.  


Coffee in hand, I fled back to the job site, and enjoyed a new start to my day sitting in the shade on a half-empty can of Thompson's Water Seal.

Notes from the Wasteland

It happened suddenly, not gradually.  Within a span of two weeks my entire work-life experience was demolished. My employer for the last thirty years announced that the business was ending operations, the fixtures and assets would be sold, and that was that!   Outside, a WalMart had purchased the entire block, with the exception of our building and the gas station on the corner.  Here's how demolition sounds from inside the building:  Bang! Boom! Shake! Shudder!  For comparison, here is how excavation sounds:   Bang! Boom! Shake! Shudder!  And construction:   Bang! Boom! Shake! Shudder!   DO YOU KNOW, there are machines designed to do nothing but shake the ground?  Just to make the dirt settle to meet code! It was like being aboard the Enterprise when the shields take a hit. Get me outa here, Scotty! Those dinosaur-size machines even tore up the road in front of our place.  No sidewalk!  How am I going to get to the gas station for a Bratwurst?

And there were the Hardhat Guys pacing around continuously all with uniform yellow vests and hard hats.  They all walk at the same relentless marching speed.  I half-expected to hear them chanting "Oh WEE Oh! Wee OHH, Whoa."

And so, all the things near and dear to us, my beat up old 1970s Modular Yellow Desk where I spent thirty years rendering exemplary and astonishing service in the Sales Office. For Sale!

And the old clock that ground our lives to bits:

Industrial photography can be fun:

And then there was the web site I created, and we all worked on it to list everything that we could possibly sell.  Check it out:  http://www.waukeshaheating.com

Using Microsoft Excel, I found a way to convert the parts department database directly to HTML tables that could be listed on web pages by just cutting and pasting.

And I invented an Excel table that wrote batch files that created HTML pages en masse:

Altogether, because this is "old-school" HTML structure, we created over 1100 HTML files on the site.  It's a Low-Tech masterpiece.  Pure raw power, and no frills. Altogether, according to the backup records, there are now 4200 files created for the liquidation project.

And then there was the marketing.  We're selling ourselves by postcard, by drive-by banners, Craig's List, Ebay.

I was inspired by the way one Ebay user advertised his pallet racks: 

... but I couldn't get Jane (not her name) to pose for the photo.  A few times, we almost sold her accidentally.  "Jane, get out of that pickup truck this instant.  You have to stay and work on the inventory!"

And so, what's next?  We're almost done listing and sifting, and are steadily selling everything, but soon the time will come....

One good thing - last time I checked, the future was still all there!

 

Happy Independence Day!

Thanks for listening and contributing. I'd love to hear from you.

That Day

Quote from "How to Learn English - A Reader for Foreigners", c.1911 Macmillan Co, New York.

"My sleeping room was very pleasant.  In one corner was an iron bed.  It was painted white.  In another corner was a bureau.  On one side of the room was a washstand.  There were two chairs in the room.  One of the chairs was a rocking-chair.  There was also a closet in the room.  I hung my clothes in the closet.  There was no carpet on the floor.  There were three rugs on the floor.  The room had three large windows.  There were pretty curtains at the windows.  The windows were open at the top.  There was plenty of fresh air in the room. I slept very well."  

This remarkable book came to me on that Tuesday.  In April 2012.  A day of new beginnings.  People always came to America to start over.  Clueless government officials try to force our lives into the crowded backward urban designs they found so charming on their latest European vacations and fact-finding junkets. (Next time you hear a government planner use the word "sustainable", ask yourself what impact the accompanying "sustainable" suggestion will have on private property rights.  You may be surprised.)

As the plans are laid upon the populace, with or without the consent of the governed, one thing they ignore::  With few exceptions, there came a day in the lives of our forefathers when they looked around their smothering tiny European lives and said: "Enough of this!  I'm going to America, where I can breathe free!" People came to America to live their lives in a place where they were free to realize their own dreams, to earn their living, and keep their earnings. (for the most part.)

Stacy (co-worker, not her name) on That Day gave me the book.  She found it in her mother's house. Her mother is making a new start of it in an old folk's home.  Jane, (nope, not her name either- i'm working with complete strangers!) another co-worker was moving her father to a retirement home, and she was organizing all of his things to close down the family house.  The Liquidation Life. A time of new beginnings.

And since that Tuesday, early in April, 2012, I have embarked upon a liquidation project of my own.  I reported to the Day Job, on That Day

There was a short company meeting.  One owner was retiring, and the other owner had sold the business.  That would mean the end of my 30-year employment.   I was invited to stay on as a liquidator until the job was done.  I accepted, and have increased my work hours back to 40 or more (I had been part time).  It's like having all the free drink tickets you want in the Executive Lounge of the Titanic.  "Another cognac, Monseur?  Oh, pay no attention to ze rumbling, it is only ice water"

So, that's where I am now. The Lord of Liquidation. One day we sold six trucks.  SIX TRUCKS!  Sold the gasoline from the underground tanks.  Selling parts back to distributors, at a slight discount.  We sold the company web site, which I've been working on since the year Al Gore invented the World Wide Web, sold to the ones who bought the business.  I created a bare-bones old-school HTML liquidation web site (which rocks!)   I created Excel tables, which create HTML tables from the product data, and Excel pages which create DOS batch files that generate HTML files.  The new web-site contains over 1000 HTML files, and today we launched our first wave of publicity, and got a satisfying response.  In short, everything I've learned in the last 30 years is being poured into this final effort.  I've not even started the job hunt - I should, I've had only one interview, but it feels so good to be working at capacity.  I should spend time working on a show I'm performing the last Saturday in June.  I should spend more time on my own web site clients' projects.  I should be spending more time promoting our vacant rental properties.  And what about all the loyal Excelsior readers?  I miss you all, and I missed Darlene's birthday last week.  Sorry, Darlene - Happy Birthday!

But, right now, there is no time.  I suppose The Time will all arrive at once..... Sooner or later, somebody is going to buy Item 125, at which I spent 30 sorta happy years. So, this year, Independence Day will have a special significance.

The Silence

Our train left Union Station in Chicago on time, 8:10 p.m. on Sunday night.  The Amtrak Hiawatha bringing its weary cargo to Milwaukee.  We had been to a trade show.  The usual assortment of shoppers, backpacking overnight visitors from all walks of life filled the train cars to about half-capacity.  


The unseasonably warm weather had turned much cooler, it was clear.  As we cleared the train yards and industrial zones of Chicago, we could see that the moon was out, and some bright planet I should know the name of was very bright, within a few degrees of the moon.  By the light of the overhead fluorescents, and the mini-spot reading lamps over the seats, I went over the purchases of the day with my wife - she runs a women's apparel shop in Milwaukee, and we had just finished the stocking orders for Fall.


And then the lights went out.  All the lights in the entire train, except for a two dim battery-operated emergency lights in each car. There was an unexpected sudden breathless silence. The train kept rolling, but all we could hear was the rolling of the wheels on the track.  No engine - thankfully the horn still worked, as we approached the Sturtevant station - one of the scheduled stops.  And then the train stopped.  The air was not filled with gasps of panic.  There was no frantic buzz of texting, and outgoing cell phone calls from jaded travelers pretending to be indignant about the inconvenience that railroad menials had caused them.  The passengers just sat still in the dark, silent, sealed car.  Very still.  It was so very quiet in that car, A whispered conversation from the other end of the car could be clearly understood.   Without the engine and fans going, it was an experience I can only compare with walking up the stairs of an escalator that isn't moving. 


After what seemed an eternity, a cell phone broke the silence - a hip-hop song fragment, and someone began speaking on it, in Spanish.  Under this cover, everybody else with a cell phone started calling someone.   It always seems that people with cell phones never speak to the people they are with, only to people who are elsewhere.   Shortly after the resumption of breathing, a PA announcement - (the PA must be on the same emergency power as the horn), explaining that there were plans to resume our trip as soon as the engine could be restarted.  And, a smelly half-hour later, the rail service resumed, the lights and fans came on, the engine started and the train resumed its route.  


Altogether, we were about 45 minutes late in arriving at Milwaukee.  I'll always remember that silence.  For a brief, uncertain moment, everybody in that car was faced with the possibility, and it remained only a possibility, that they might be expected to participate in personal social interaction.  Think about what you would say if the lights go out. 

Thanks for listening and contributing. I'd love to hear from you.

News from Milwaukee, March 1993

extracted from a letter I wrote dated March 27, 1993

YIKES! IT'S BEEN OVER TWO WEEKS!  There's been a lot going on around here. Right after I got back from the Convention, I contracted a good case of Flu #1, the “I can't remember swallowing that axe” variety. So that took a week, and when our hero woke up, he found that everyone else in Milwaukee was in the bathroom. Can you say “Cryptosporidium?”

You've probably heard all about it on the news. I think it was kind an adventure that helps you appreciate “Life in the Big City”.  Something out of Batman. “While Gotham City's water supply is being held hostage by Crypto-man, the Joker's henchmen are hijacking truckloads of bottled water...”

The grocery stores were like disaster relief setups by the military; people calling to find out when the next water shipment would come in. Grocery stores wouldn't even unpack the pallets of bottled water, as they came in; the cases were just dumped in the aisles and emptied within the hour. I cooked my own, although, the water wasn't really affecting me that much. Oh, sure, there was at times a certain, ahem, urgency, but certainly not the cramps, fever, etc. that was keeping everybody home.

A fistfight broke out in a Bay View pharmacy over the last bottle of Pepto Bismol on the shelf. Chippewa Springs of Chippewa Falls donated a truckload of bottled water to Second Harvesters, and Second Harvesters turned over 1000 cases to the Milwaukee Aids Project, for the exclusive use of AIDS patients.  Miller Brewery, in a brilliant public relations move, started turning out bottled water. Miller's water, because of purity standards, is more pure than anything the city could ever spew out. OK, everybody, it's Miller Time.

I tried to do a little research, but, in the reference section of my library, all the encyclopedia volumes containing “Cr” had been removed from the shelves. I didn't check into that, I got distracted by something else, but I was hoping to see a picture of the little bugger. Perhaps the appearance of the Cryptosporidium protozoan was so hideous, that people would have rioted in the streets, had they but seen its face. “Commissioner — to the Bat Phone!!!...”

This city must really look wacky, to an outsider. Just since I've lived here, we've had Lawrencia Bembenek's Weekly Made-for-TV Drama,  Michael McGee and his Poisoned Bratwurst, and speaking of home cooking, it's time now for Jeffrey Dahmer's Kitchen, mmm.. smells good, Jeff. Must be today's guest, Konerak Sinthasimphone...just a few things Jeff picked up at the Grand Avenue. Kinda makes you a little hesitant to point a finger at the Branch Davidians in Wacko, Texas.

extracted from a letter I wrote dated March 27, 1993

Thanks for listening and contributing. I'd love to hear from you.

without a net

"My ass hurts!"  -------------------------- "WHAT?"

A week after I began my 29th year of service to my present employer (known on Excelsior as 'the Day Job'), we had an all-employee meeting at which they announced that in three weeks there would no longer be company-provided health insurance. I've always been pro-business, but this is a little different from a typical cynical comparison of my salary to a living wage. It is contrary to the original agreement I made in 1984.  There were no guarantees of wages beyond the starting salary, but there was an agreement that health insurance was included as a term of employment.

Through the years, I've availed myself little of the insurance - I've always prided myself on my exemplary health.  It's been over three years since I last saw a doctor, in fact the last doctor I visited has since retired.  Yet, still, the phrase "without a net" keeps going through my head.

Due to my already reduced hours, the job won't support any of the "alternative" plans presented by the exiting insurance carrier.  And I'm not going to divert any of my other income or assets to fund this.  So, my plan is to replace the day-job, rather than to deploy some expensive health-insurance patch job.  Until then, well,

"Through the air on the flying trapeze, his mind hummed. Amusing it was, astoundingly funny. A trapeze to God, or to nothing, a flying trapeze to some sort of eternity; he prayed objectively for strength to make the flight with grace." - William Saroyan 

Thanks for listening and contributing. I'd love to hear from you.