It's Killing Me...

...that I have to go to work today.  It's shaping up to be one gorgeous day--sunny and mild--and I don't wanna be shut up in a cement block bunker all day with a dodgy computer--and dodgier bosses.  On Monday both Mr. and Mrs. Boss were there trying to fix the internets and a few other computer & POS (Point Of Sale, that means cash register for those of us old enough to remember life without computers [be still my heart]) and there was tension to burn.  I was waiting on the customer of the day (the only one!) who was looking at spearguns.  I take my time with customers, letting them lead (sort of), and employing pauses so that they can sell themselves by eagerly filling that silence. (I learned that from Durwood, thanks, Dear, it works like a charm)  Mr. Boss kept butting in, "helping" me sell the guy, and jumping ahead in my sales plan.  Imagine 2 people trying to sell you, wouldn't you balk?  I would.  Too much pressure.  I held my tongue until after the guy left--with his new pole spear and trident tip, I might add--and then I let Mr. Boss have it.  With both barrels.  Then I stormed out the back door to fume/cry in peace for 10 minutes.  I came back in to hear him hollering at her (?????) and then things went back to (semi)normal.  I did apologize to each of them individually for my outburst and we managed to coexist in there until I left at 6 PM.  At one point I couldn't take their bickering for another minute (it's their sole way of interaction) and went into the back to knit.  It's crazy enough to work in a place where sales are few and far between, but to have them/him be so unprofessional is a real stunner.  I've told them a number of times that they need to stop being so pushy and desperate when they're trying to sell, and never poor-mouth which is one of his favorite tactics, but they don't listen.  Mrs. Boss is better than he his, still unwilling to make a deal to make a sale, but not as desperate-sounding.  At least I've stopped having a stomach ache from not being able to change their behavior and "save the business" like I did the first 2 years they owned it.  At least I can change.  It is good to get paid to surf the web, knit, and listen to stories on my iPod, although sometimes I feel like I'm stealing my paycheck but, hey, someone has to sit there and answer the robo-calls and referee when they're there together.  Less blood flies when I'm there, I guess.  Think of your paycheck, Barbara.  It's all about the money.  Huh, I used to work there for love and now it's just about the money.  Too bad.  I still need to be there for JJ and BLV and ES and KC and... well, the staff and the customers, some of whom have been known to call me at home to ask when I'll be in to avoid having to deal with Mrs. Boss.  That's flattering.  (Life sure is strange, isn't it?  Mine sure is; I hope yours is too.)

May 9--Adolphe Braun, Albumen Silver Print from Glass Negative.  There were too many booms to count on Mama's "Rose of Sharon" bush the year Hack moved into the house down the road.  He said they called him Hack because as a kid he'd always spent his penny on a kind of candy called hack but I never tasted it and he didn't explain.  Hack worked as a foreman on construction jobs all over the tri-county area and drove a dark green pickup with a tool box bolted behind the cab.  That was years before Rubbermaid made one so Hack built his own with iron strap hinges and a hasp so his padlock kept things safe.  In his spare time Hack would be in his workshop building furniture.  He had a feel for wood that let him make things others could only dream of.  He'd let me sit by the stove in his shop and watch, as long as I stayed out of his way.  He let me put cheese out for his pet mouse Herbie.

How I got from a picture of a rosebush to my Grandpa Stephan I do not know, but I'm glad I got to visit with him again in my memory.  Enjoy your day and don't yell at your boss.  I'll try not to too.

--Barbara