I must be having a little patch of "off the zag" or something. My brain is playing the wrong tune, or I am missing the beat. Or my thoughts are 'clouding' my ears!
I've tried to tell myself I am just singing the harmonies. Or hearing the different drum. I don't think I have convinced myself really.
Ordinarily, it doesn't bother me too much if my thinking runs against the grain. I feel I have come up with solutions to some problems, by thinking outside the box, or whatever you wish to call it.
For now, it just seems to be a bit wearying. Like swimming against the tide. Though I am not really.
I am humbled to receive another "You Make Me Smile" Award from Sheoflittlebrain, from One Acre Wood.
I seem to be unable to get the size correct on the side bar, in spite of following all advice, so I will just leave it here for now.
Retreating into the past again, I have decided to post about a small cafe I once owned.
Shall we call it Kenny's Noshery. That wasn't the real name, but something similar, & when I purchased the business, to avoid all the legal messing about, I just continued trading under the same name.
I purchased this business on the assurances of our current accountant, that "You can't go wrong! It is a bargain."
Taught me 2 things. Never totally trust an accountant. Never trust a man saying, "You can't go wrong".
So, here I was up the creek, so to speak. Kenny had given me some vague recipes for the "Specialties of the House" & assured me that the 2 staff would remain to help as long as I would care to employ them.
With the first few days, came the dawning of the reality. The Arcade the shop was in, was not exactly the hot path to the altar of Foodville. Nor was it really handy to businesses. It was a sort of little hidden backwater if honesty prevailed. It was on a pathway to a busy car park, but most of the foot traffic used the alleyway as a short cut. They scurried past.
The two girls who had been staff for Kenny, agreed to spill the beans, when they could see that I was not a mean cow, nor was I about to sack them. They admitted they had been told to fudge the figures, to write false takings in the days notes, to lie about the food quantities.
One girl could see it was not a going concern, & she took another job offer. The second girl D came to work on the 3rd day, hideously beaten up, by her partner. I am talking teeth knocked out, & a very black eye. I told her never mind, take her time to heal, & come back when she was ready. Really I was shocked & sickened to see her damage. Aside from the fact she wouldn't leave the beater, I liked her. She had a wonderful sense of humour, & was popluar with the customers we did have.
My Daughter J came to help me, some days GOM came to help, when he was on a night stint at the "Golden Opportunity." I learnt to make the Lentil Burgers, & the Fruit Smoothies, & various other foods which were freshly prepared each day. I introduced new lines, with some good success. A man came from some distance to buy my chicken sandwiches. He claimed they were the best he had ever tasted, would order for all his staff.
D came back to work, healed up, & swearing that if it happened again, she would leave the beater. She didn't leave him while I still had the shop, but she did eventually.
The shop gradually built a regular clientele. A couple, who worked at the Council, & who were having an affair. He was married, had a son, wouldn't leave till the son was grown. She had never married, but seemed content with the way things were. They often brought a friend. They were nice people, full of fun, & they often brought some wine- though we didn't have a BYO license. They laughed & said, "We are the Council, if you have trouble, just send them to us". They broke the corkscrew, replaced it with a very posh one! Loved having their wine every Friday.
A small timid woman who used to come in, after all the others had left, & always ordered the "Quinch & Salad". I never had the heart to correct her, & tell her it was pronounced "Keesh".
Young Brett, who I have blogged about here, used to come & sometimes help in the shop. Or just call in, to ask if he could come to stay with us for the weekend. Another young lad, who worked locally, came for comfort & company. I suspect he had a small crush on DJ.
The Arcade had a few 'Rules'. There were several different food outlets, & one of the rules was, we could not sell each other's food specialties. Which worked. Until the shop opposite mine, opened a counter to the pavement, & began to sell the same food as mine. When I complained, I was told they had negotiated a new lease. They did not have to abide by the 'Rules' I has signed for.
I had a very good offer, from a man who was very keen to buy the lease from me. He offered a very generous price. Negotiations got under way. Time passed. Then I got told it was not going to proceed, as the leasors had denied the sale. We had it on very good authority, that the Leasors, would not lease to people of their particular Ethnicity. They had a reputation for buying businesses & if they went belly up, they then lit said premises to collect the insurance.
I have no idea it that was the truth of the matter, but the sale was denied.
I eventually sold the shop, to an Italian girl, who was eager to try her specialty food. Her father was providing the money. He had a heart attack & the sale almost fell through. I had joked with D, that I had a bad feeling, & hoped the father didn't come to any harm.
Imagine my horror when I found out about the heart attack. At least we didnt lie about our takings or any other details. They didnt care about such things, as they wished to have a complete change of food style, & decor.
I kept in touch with D for many years. She lived on her own with her two sons, & still had a relationship with her partner. She said they just couldn't live together, but got on really well, living apart.
Phoebe Snow, Inspired Insanity.
I had to edit this to get the link to Brett.