The business where I work is closing today. Going out of Business. It is making me sad and I didn't think it would. The business has been a "dead man walking" for about two years. I have survived two previous employee cuts. Sometimes, in the last years, I have feared being let go and sometimes I would have welcomed it. The owners and the employees have not behaved as professional people should and on occasion I have been embarrassed to be associated with them. But I am not a quitter and have/had essential skills to make the business work as it should. I thought I would welcome a lay-off so I could draw unemployment benefits from Barak. Now I am torn between that and finding a different job and beginning my FOURTH life. I have been a career banker, a Business owner and a professional, certified franchised car salesman.
My present job landed in my lap at a time when I was unemployed, recovering from major surgery and broke from not working for four months. Our family income had dwindled to about six hundred dollars for a family of four. Our young son probably suffered the most, as he was a senior and had to do without a lot of things a senior boy ought to have. Both experienced the need to rely on the charity of strangers and I think they are better off for it today.
When I could finally get around after surgery, I took a temp. job delivering phonebooks to businesses. The dealership offered me this job as THE salesman at a satellite location. I sold one car the first month. The owner called me toward the end of the month (3:00 pm. on a Friday) and said "lock up the store and come downtown, I want to talk to you." When I got there he said he was closing the satellite store but would like me to work in the main store. Of course I was surprised that he wasn't telling me I got the trophy for shortest selling career in history. It has been eleven years since then. I have worked most of those years with a tyrannical sales manager, A misdirected owner who is in jail now, prima donna mechanics, pill popping, powder snorting, joint smoking owners sons, and bamboozled new partner/owners. I have enjoyed the successes of the business in its heyday, and survived three corporate ownership changes.
I have not owned a car in eleven years, paid for insurance on one, paid for maintenance, bought tires, or paid for collision damage. Until recently I always got to drive late model demonstrators with the thought of checking them out for damage. While not having a car of my own, The dealership has been a source for several cars for my wife and children. By my count our family has bought 15 decent used cars for family use. We will be in for culture shock when we have to buy cars on the open market.
There are many memorable stories and incidents I could share but they are probably only of interest to me. The business has been like a cancer victim for the past two years or so, and the end was expected, but still I'm sorry and don't know why.
Monday, August 31, 2009
Thursday, August 6, 2009
THREE DAYS OF PEACE AND MUSIC !
August 15th begins the three day, 40th anniversary of an event that changed or at least marked the lives of thousands of young people. A muddy cow pasture in rural Woodstock New York hosted almost a half million kids of the "drugs, sex and rock n roll" generation.
I married my first wife in February 1969 before the "Summer of Love". We finished the spring semester at the University of Colorado in Boulder which was then a hotbed of radical thinking. In May we moved back to Colorado Springs to embark on our lives as pretend adults. I searched for and found a job in July.
Sandy, my new wife, had friends who were true hippies. Her closest friend, Terri Lee Burton invited us to join her and a friend and ride with them to Woodstock in a red VW micro mini-van named "Panama Red" It sounded like a real happening, but with a brand new job, I didn't dare ask for a week off to go to a concert on the other side of the country. They went, we stayed, and missed a chance to be wet, miserable, tired and probably stoned for three days.
A few musings about those times. Panama red was the name of the bus but it was also the name of a specific strain of reasonably good marijuana (so I am told) Others were Acapulco gold,& Maui wowie. All those names and others were secretly patented by major tobacco companies for the time that MaryJane became legal, if ever.
Sandy and I considered ourselves to be week end, or fringe Hippies. We wore tie died shirts, peasant blouses, bell bottom pants. We rode bikes with little babies in back packs, and hand made bell bottom snap trousers for him.
In my old age, and in the vein of the title of this blog, I tell people who ask, that "yes, I was at Woodstock in 1969" With a good understanding of the history of the event, I can convince most folks that even though conditions were miserable, it was worth it to see the music Icons like Hendricks, Joplin, Airplane, Country Joe, Arlo and all the others.
So on the fifteenth of this month, find some mud to squirm around in, wear the same clothes for three days, carry a cooler full of beer for two or three miles, and think of your parents who are about to receive their first social security checks. Also try to think of an entertainment event in recent times that will be remembered as significant forty years from now.
I married my first wife in February 1969 before the "Summer of Love". We finished the spring semester at the University of Colorado in Boulder which was then a hotbed of radical thinking. In May we moved back to Colorado Springs to embark on our lives as pretend adults. I searched for and found a job in July.
Sandy, my new wife, had friends who were true hippies. Her closest friend, Terri Lee Burton invited us to join her and a friend and ride with them to Woodstock in a red VW micro mini-van named "Panama Red" It sounded like a real happening, but with a brand new job, I didn't dare ask for a week off to go to a concert on the other side of the country. They went, we stayed, and missed a chance to be wet, miserable, tired and probably stoned for three days.
A few musings about those times. Panama red was the name of the bus but it was also the name of a specific strain of reasonably good marijuana (so I am told) Others were Acapulco gold,& Maui wowie. All those names and others were secretly patented by major tobacco companies for the time that MaryJane became legal, if ever.
Sandy and I considered ourselves to be week end, or fringe Hippies. We wore tie died shirts, peasant blouses, bell bottom pants. We rode bikes with little babies in back packs, and hand made bell bottom snap trousers for him.
In my old age, and in the vein of the title of this blog, I tell people who ask, that "yes, I was at Woodstock in 1969" With a good understanding of the history of the event, I can convince most folks that even though conditions were miserable, it was worth it to see the music Icons like Hendricks, Joplin, Airplane, Country Joe, Arlo and all the others.
So on the fifteenth of this month, find some mud to squirm around in, wear the same clothes for three days, carry a cooler full of beer for two or three miles, and think of your parents who are about to receive their first social security checks. Also try to think of an entertainment event in recent times that will be remembered as significant forty years from now.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
