I just want to express my discontent of the tax laws in the United States. I have a day job which puts me in the 25 to 28% tax bracket. I am not complaining so much about that. As a matter of fact, I was able to figure file my wife's and my taxes until... I started an online website and advertising hobby that actually turned out to start earning a little money.
At first it seemed great. All the programs that I was running would pay me tax free! I was very aware that since the transactions were all online and electronic, they were easily traceable. So I wanted to keep it honest and I knew I would eventually owe some tax on the money. I put like 80% of it in the bank since it was all gravy money anyway. At the end of the year, I decided to have an accountant (who was a friend of my dad's) figure out how much I actually owed. I was informed right off the bat that all the money I made on the side was subject to a "self proprietor" tax, which was 14% over and above my normal tax bracket. This made a total of 42% of the money I made on line went straight to federal tax. With State and local taxes, it came to almost 50% out the door. I wrote checks totaling $13,000. It really can make one second guess whether taking the time to build up a business online is really worth it.
Mr accountant guy said that I could save the 14% self proprietor tax if only I would incorporate. At that time it would amount to about $1500 a year. He said it would only cost about $300 and he hooked me up with an attorney to do the deed. That seemed easy enough, so I reported back to the accountant that I was now incorporated. He said that he would now have to file quarterly forms and I would have to prepay federal and state taxes and turn in my paperwork to him every 3 months. I met with him after the first quarter and sat down with him to discuss my progress. All seemed well, but the guy billed me $500 dollars! I called and asked him if that was going to be the case every quarter, and he said yes. I reminded him that it was his idea that I incorporate to save $1500, but now he was going to charge me $2000 a year? I think he got kind of pissed and put one of his cronies I'll call Walurus-Boy on my case.
I figured that was about how it was going to be, welcome to the real world. I worked on building the online business up so maybe it would be worth my while to pay Walrus-Boy $2000. To add fuel to the fire, the following year I opened an Ameritrade account on a stock tip from a guy I worked with to buy Sirius Satellite Radio stock. (this was 2004)I bought and sold the stock like 30 times during the year starting at $2.70 and finally selling out completely at around $7.00. I made close to $20,000 profit, but realized what a worry-wart I was becoming, sometimes buying and selling the stock a couple times a day. A couple times I called my wife from work to maybe pull the trigger on a trade. It was just too consuming and taking away from my new online business, so I closed the account and didn't even check the SIRI stock price for a couple months. I was happy to just be $20,000 in the black. Or so I thought...
For the next year's tax preparation, I turned in all the paperwork for 2004. I had kept track of how much money I had made from stock trading, but I guess I did not keep track of the exact date of every trade. I did keep track of the amounts but I guess that was not good enough. I was also informed when you don't hold a stock for a year before you sell it, you are subject to capital gains tax. Which when added to my regular tax bracket, amounted to around 50% again. Is this a great country or what? For 2004, I ended up writing a check for $10,000. Only this time I received 2 bills from Walrus-Boy for $500 each. When I called to talk to them about it, they wouldn't return my calls. Finally some woman from the firm called. I had no idea who she was and she was not familiar with my case. Both the owner and now Walrus-Boy were too busy to take my call. I called my attorney (yes the one recommended by the accountant) and explained to him what was going on. He agreed with me, that the accounting firm was trying to fire me like the chicken shits they are. He said to pay the 1 (one) bill for $500 and write "paid in full" on the check. If they cash it then we are even, but my days with them are done. They did cash the check and I never heard from them again. Now I had to find a new accountant that charges a reasonable fee.
I have been with my current accountant (great guy) and he charges me $200 a quarter, and $200 at the end of the year for our personal taxes. My online internet business has stayed the same income level. It grosses around $30,000 and yes, no matter how you work the numbers, about half goes to taxes. For me to take money out of the corporation, I can pay myself a payroll check of $2000 every quarter and take a dividend of $1000. With the payroll check of $2000, my company has to pay $56 to the IRS, another $563 to the IRS and another $109 to my state. The $2000 I pay myself now becomes personal taxable income, and my accountant generates a w-2. There is also the state department of workforce development (unemployment tax), and even my township taxes me on my office equipment inventory.
The bottom line is that the whole damn thing is just way too complicated to run a business. I can see why people say to hell with it, the system is set up for businesses to fail. I run the business out of my house, and half of everything I earn I do not get to keep. I wonder how businesses that rent retail space even make it, especially in today's economy. They may make enough to come out even, not the business owner's dream we grew up with.
If someone was to ask me now, would I recommend they start their own business, I would have to say no, to hell with it....
Sunday, February 1, 2009
Tuesday, January 27, 2009
Crappy Jobs part 5...
Hopefully I can wrap this up and bring you up to the present day in my crappy jobs. The R. L. Polk job was seasonal, so when we canvassed the entire area, I donned my backpack and crashed the student union job placement notebook again. One of the jobs I got was at the Valspar paint factory. I was hired as a lab assistant, it sounds great but I swept floors and fetched chemicals for the lab technicians. They gave me a metal bucket with a big jumper cable clamp on it. (the clamp was to ground the bucket to the spigot to prevent sparks and fire) I had to go down to the basement and get chemicals (from a spaghetti network of piping) that had names like FH-2, AD-8 etc. I had no idea what they were, but they gave me a hell of a buzz. As a matter of a fact all the employees there walked around like they inhaled way too much of the chemicals. The scary part was it was a very old building and the big paint vats were accessed from big holes in the floor. One wrong step and you could be part of the next batch of eggshell ceiling paint. I lasted about 3 months when the next student union job called.
It was the big boss at the county highway department. They had a part time temporary job open at one of their satellite garages cleaning up at the grounds for the summer. I started June of 1986 for $4.78 an hour with no benefits. I was still playing guitar in bars for whiskey and food (and a few dollars) so a government job seemed like a good idea. Plus I know how the government works, part time today could be full time tomorrow. The supervisor at the east garage was Don Shoudel. On the outside, he was a 300 pound mean son-of-a-bitch, but once you got to know him, he was one of the nicest guys you would ever meet. He would give you the shirt off his back and really helped me out when it got close to laying me off. I developed a strategy to lengthen my employment status. On Thursday afternoon of Friday morning, I would completely tear everything out of an area of the garage to give it a thorough cleaning. Of course, there would not be enough time to complete the job as needed by the end of the week and I would have to come back monday to finish it up. I would then coast until Thursday or Friday and start the process all over again. I did do a good job cleaning and Don made a few phone calls and they kept me on; part time still, but at least I still had a job.
I worked part time at the east garage until November of 1987 when a full time position came up. I became an official government full-time employee with benefits! WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! I traded the 76 pacer for 78 Ford Granada and rolled the biggest fattie I could hold in my grubby little hands. It had been a long time (since the bowling alley manager job in Garland) since I had health insurance, vacation days and the job security a 26 year old needs. The rest is history. I have been at the highway department for 21 years. I now hold (with pride I may say) the crappiest job ever. Plowing snow sucks, I take that back, it is actually fun for about the first hour, then it sucks. But like I said at the beginning, (whoda thunk it would take 5 posts to get this far?) in today's economy, we should be happy to have any job. I write this post with a pending snow storm and a scheduled mandatory overtime posting for us to come in at 4 am.
We made it, thanks for stopping in...
It was the big boss at the county highway department. They had a part time temporary job open at one of their satellite garages cleaning up at the grounds for the summer. I started June of 1986 for $4.78 an hour with no benefits. I was still playing guitar in bars for whiskey and food (and a few dollars) so a government job seemed like a good idea. Plus I know how the government works, part time today could be full time tomorrow. The supervisor at the east garage was Don Shoudel. On the outside, he was a 300 pound mean son-of-a-bitch, but once you got to know him, he was one of the nicest guys you would ever meet. He would give you the shirt off his back and really helped me out when it got close to laying me off. I developed a strategy to lengthen my employment status. On Thursday afternoon of Friday morning, I would completely tear everything out of an area of the garage to give it a thorough cleaning. Of course, there would not be enough time to complete the job as needed by the end of the week and I would have to come back monday to finish it up. I would then coast until Thursday or Friday and start the process all over again. I did do a good job cleaning and Don made a few phone calls and they kept me on; part time still, but at least I still had a job.
I worked part time at the east garage until November of 1987 when a full time position came up. I became an official government full-time employee with benefits! WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! I traded the 76 pacer for 78 Ford Granada and rolled the biggest fattie I could hold in my grubby little hands. It had been a long time (since the bowling alley manager job in Garland) since I had health insurance, vacation days and the job security a 26 year old needs. The rest is history. I have been at the highway department for 21 years. I now hold (with pride I may say) the crappiest job ever. Plowing snow sucks, I take that back, it is actually fun for about the first hour, then it sucks. But like I said at the beginning, (whoda thunk it would take 5 posts to get this far?) in today's economy, we should be happy to have any job. I write this post with a pending snow storm and a scheduled mandatory overtime posting for us to come in at 4 am.
We made it, thanks for stopping in...
Monday, January 26, 2009
Crappy Jobs part 4...
Now that I have you crying crocodile tears that I didn't get the glass lab job, I have to tell you of one job I had between my two years of college (that I forgot about). For a summer job, I was referred to Classic Company of Fort Wayne. Their big thing at that time was making trophies and concert t-shirts. One of their sidelines was to sand and refinish bowling lanes. I was told just to show up one Monday morning so I did. When I got there, the boss guy said where is your suitcase? No one ever told me that I was going to be staying overnight anywhere, but I needed the money and decided to go. Before the two old boss guys took off in a Cadillac, they asked me if I ever drove a box truck. They gave me a map and me and this other kid ground the gears until we finally made it to the out-of-town bowling alley. The worst part of the job was washing my socks and underwear in the sink every night. Were gone for generally 1 whole week at a time, and they would rent 1 motel room with 2 double beds for the both of us. The 2 old guys would be out like a light and snore like sailors. Whoever the other helper kid was would sleep on the bed with me. We were some stinky tired grunts. We would work from dawn to dark then move on. Sucked, but the best money I had ever made.
Ok, we are caught up now. I didn't get the glass lab job in Texas and I basically had told all my old employers to kiss my ass so I was screwed. I had very little money and NO job. My next decision was mostly a matter of timing. My friend Pat who went to college with me, happened to be living in Terrel Texas, about 30 miles from Garland. He was moving back to Fort Wayne and already had an apartment. He said I could stay with him and his roommate and I agreed. I crammed everything I could in my 1972 Nova and told everyone goodbye. I called Pat and told him I was ready to go. Pat then told me he had changed his mind and he wasn't going. He said I could still live with his roommate if I could pay half the rent. I had no money or job and had never met his roommate, so I declined that offer with a sigh. I was already on the road in my mind, so I called my parents (yes my parents) and asked if I could stay there for a while. They said ok, and I headed out.
I arrived at my parents house and unloaded all my junk. I had to swallow my pride and listen to my dad tell me how he knew that bowling lanes management wasn't a good idea and that smoking pot would ruin the world and he knew I would not amount to anything. After we got over that hurdle, he was pretty cool. We finished the attic over the garage and turned it into a pretty cool bedroom. I sold my 72 nova and bought a 76 AMC Pacer wagon and started the job hunt.
Pat from the paragraph before did give me 1 helpful hint for which I will forever be in his debt. He said to dress up like a college student and go to the Indiana University (of Fort Wayne) Student Union building and look at the jobs. He said just go in and go to the job room (he explained where it was) and just sit down and act you like you belong there. Take a paper and pencil and just copy the jobs out of the book. They did ask me if I have filled out my class schedule, and I told them I would and they gave me a paper (3 different times). I copied down a whole bunch of jobs and went home and started calling.
I actually found a job right away, though not the most desirable, it was a great start. It was with the R. L. Polk City and Suburban Directory. My job was to go door to door and verify the residents and get whatever information like who all lived there and where they worked etc. The company actually gave you a sheet for every street with all the information on it already, but they intentionally put one wrong one on every page so I couldn't just mark them all correct. I would earn about 10 cents for every verification and like 20 cents for every house that they had no information for. They figured in a minimum amount you could make an hour so I would kick ass for about 4 hours a day and turn in 8 hours. They didn't mind too much, because I was the only guy that would go to the neighborhoods that weren't in the best part of town. I didn't mind too much because in those neighborhoods, pretty much everyone everyone was home during the day and I could get information pretty easy.
One day I pulled to the corner of Pontiac st. and Alexander st. and was getting my paperwork ready when a big dog put his paws on my car window. He looked pretty friendly, so I rolled the window down a little to see what he would do. He turned out to be really friendly so I got out and petted him and started off down the street. The dog followed me to every house and waited while I did my business, then I would lean down and pet him and he would follow me to the next house. It went like this all the way down the block and halfway back on the other side. I went to this particular house and had to go through an open front porch to get to the front door. The residents were not home, so it is customary to leave them our paperwork tucked in the door. I shut the paper in the door, stepped out to pet my buddy but when I leaned down, the bastard jumped up and bit me on the cheek. When I finally found a brick to beat the dog's head in, he took off running. I can only assume I finally found his house. I believe I had to go get a tetanus shot.
Another funny thing happened one day when I was canvassing a fairly nice neighborhood. It is a good habit to ask a potentially nosey neighbor about the neighbor you are getting ready to visit next in case nobody is home. I did this on this one house that was completely blank on my sheet. The lady I was talking to was more than willing to give me everything I would ever want to know about her neighbor. I jotted everything down, thanked her and headed next door. It turns out that the guy was home, but when he found out who I was he was not too happy. He cussed me a bit, told me to get lost, and that he would never give me any damn information. I said ok, you have a good day "Mr. Johnson" and proceeded to leave. He came out of the house and asked me how the hell did I know who he was. He was a bit excited for a bit, but he knew I had him so he mellowed out and calmed down. He explained to me that he was an ex-detective or prosecutor or something and it was to his best interest to not have his information public. I told him he might want to be a bit more friendly next time and have a talk with his gabby neighbor. He actually turned out to be a pretty nice guy and I tore up his information. I could have used that 20 cents though.
To be continued...
Ok, we are caught up now. I didn't get the glass lab job in Texas and I basically had told all my old employers to kiss my ass so I was screwed. I had very little money and NO job. My next decision was mostly a matter of timing. My friend Pat who went to college with me, happened to be living in Terrel Texas, about 30 miles from Garland. He was moving back to Fort Wayne and already had an apartment. He said I could stay with him and his roommate and I agreed. I crammed everything I could in my 1972 Nova and told everyone goodbye. I called Pat and told him I was ready to go. Pat then told me he had changed his mind and he wasn't going. He said I could still live with his roommate if I could pay half the rent. I had no money or job and had never met his roommate, so I declined that offer with a sigh. I was already on the road in my mind, so I called my parents (yes my parents) and asked if I could stay there for a while. They said ok, and I headed out.
I arrived at my parents house and unloaded all my junk. I had to swallow my pride and listen to my dad tell me how he knew that bowling lanes management wasn't a good idea and that smoking pot would ruin the world and he knew I would not amount to anything. After we got over that hurdle, he was pretty cool. We finished the attic over the garage and turned it into a pretty cool bedroom. I sold my 72 nova and bought a 76 AMC Pacer wagon and started the job hunt.
Pat from the paragraph before did give me 1 helpful hint for which I will forever be in his debt. He said to dress up like a college student and go to the Indiana University (of Fort Wayne) Student Union building and look at the jobs. He said just go in and go to the job room (he explained where it was) and just sit down and act you like you belong there. Take a paper and pencil and just copy the jobs out of the book. They did ask me if I have filled out my class schedule, and I told them I would and they gave me a paper (3 different times). I copied down a whole bunch of jobs and went home and started calling.
I actually found a job right away, though not the most desirable, it was a great start. It was with the R. L. Polk City and Suburban Directory. My job was to go door to door and verify the residents and get whatever information like who all lived there and where they worked etc. The company actually gave you a sheet for every street with all the information on it already, but they intentionally put one wrong one on every page so I couldn't just mark them all correct. I would earn about 10 cents for every verification and like 20 cents for every house that they had no information for. They figured in a minimum amount you could make an hour so I would kick ass for about 4 hours a day and turn in 8 hours. They didn't mind too much, because I was the only guy that would go to the neighborhoods that weren't in the best part of town. I didn't mind too much because in those neighborhoods, pretty much everyone everyone was home during the day and I could get information pretty easy.
One day I pulled to the corner of Pontiac st. and Alexander st. and was getting my paperwork ready when a big dog put his paws on my car window. He looked pretty friendly, so I rolled the window down a little to see what he would do. He turned out to be really friendly so I got out and petted him and started off down the street. The dog followed me to every house and waited while I did my business, then I would lean down and pet him and he would follow me to the next house. It went like this all the way down the block and halfway back on the other side. I went to this particular house and had to go through an open front porch to get to the front door. The residents were not home, so it is customary to leave them our paperwork tucked in the door. I shut the paper in the door, stepped out to pet my buddy but when I leaned down, the bastard jumped up and bit me on the cheek. When I finally found a brick to beat the dog's head in, he took off running. I can only assume I finally found his house. I believe I had to go get a tetanus shot.
Another funny thing happened one day when I was canvassing a fairly nice neighborhood. It is a good habit to ask a potentially nosey neighbor about the neighbor you are getting ready to visit next in case nobody is home. I did this on this one house that was completely blank on my sheet. The lady I was talking to was more than willing to give me everything I would ever want to know about her neighbor. I jotted everything down, thanked her and headed next door. It turns out that the guy was home, but when he found out who I was he was not too happy. He cussed me a bit, told me to get lost, and that he would never give me any damn information. I said ok, you have a good day "Mr. Johnson" and proceeded to leave. He came out of the house and asked me how the hell did I know who he was. He was a bit excited for a bit, but he knew I had him so he mellowed out and calmed down. He explained to me that he was an ex-detective or prosecutor or something and it was to his best interest to not have his information public. I told him he might want to be a bit more friendly next time and have a talk with his gabby neighbor. He actually turned out to be a pretty nice guy and I tore up his information. I could have used that 20 cents though.
To be continued...
Sunday, January 25, 2009
Crappy Jobs part 3...
Well here we are at St. Regis Paper Company in Garland Texas. Things were great for a while. I was enjoying the evenings and weekends off and learning the true spirit of Texas from the inside. I have to admit, there is a feeling you get when you are a Texas resident. It is hard to describe, but the pride you feel to be a part of the whole Texas thing. I made some really good friends and lost a lot of the edge I was burdened with for the last few months. I joined a band and things were looking up. My brother Jerry and Tim Hendricks (a friend of ours we met from the Brunswick experience) moved down to Garland and we were having some freakin' parties to remember. We rented a house that took 4 of us to pay the rent but it was pretty cool.
Wouldn't you know, I got bumped to 2nd shift; 2 pm to 10 pm. The work was the same, I do have a couple funny ass memories, like the time with my supervisor Clovis Stevens. Clovis was ok, but like a good company man, he would smile rarely and watch us out of the corner of his eye. One day I was sitting outside at the picnic table eating lunch at work and I looked at the nearest tree and there was like a hundred of those discarded cicada (locust) shells stuck to it. I remember In Indiana, we would find 1 or 2 of the bug shells stuck to a tree, but on this Texas tree was busload. I collected about 50 and put them in a sack and took them back into the building. Clovis was not back from lunch yet, so I opened his top middle desk drawer and lined up the 50 cicada shells like a little bug army. I closed the drawer real careful and snuck back to my machine. A couple hours later, I heard Clovis let out a blood-curdling scream. I am sure he knew I did it but no one would fess up.
Getting off at 10pm though, it was party time! We would party till 3 or 4 in the morning, then I would sleep till around noon. I would get up and get ready for work and leave the house by 1:30. So it seems all I was doing was working and partying. It was great, but looking at the big picture, I could tell I was getting nowhere. Rent and partying kept me from saving any money and after a year of this, it just seemed like a dead end.
Inside the factory was about the most boring thing ever. I was running a box stitching machine that stapled the boxes together in the corner. Once I set up the machine, I could run the same size and style of box through the machine for 2 to 3 days. I would just stand behind the stack and fold the 2 flaps in and push it into the stitcher. Repeat this like 50 thousand times. There was clock within eyeshot and time went frustratingly slow. I would look at the clock and "oh shit, it is only 3 minutes later than the last time I looked at the clock. I was 20 and burnt out again, I started looking for a different job.
The first job I actually had a chance at was Highland Appliance. It was a big electronics store and it just seemed exciting and I am sure time would go much quicker than factory work. I made it past the interview and they sent me to a lie detector test downtown Dallas. I found my way there and was invited in by a 300 pound ex-marine looking guy. No joking, just sit down and get to the matter at hand. He strapped me in and for the next hour gave me the third degree. I knew I was screwed when he asked me if I ever stole from an employer. Working at Sambo's restaurant, I ate my share of overcooked steaks (does that count?), and working at Brunswick bowling alley, I bowled thousands of games after we locked the doors. Not to mention working for Bud and Marvin, I drilled my own bowling balls and chalked it up to promotion. Needless to say, I cannot add Highland Appliance to my resume.
Here is where it gets interesting. I found a company that made optical glass and lenses for telescopes and binoculars. They had a new government contract to make a bunch of stuff for the Army. The place was amazingly clean. Everybody had on white lab coats and were smiling. The hr guy led me all around and introduced me to everyone. He said I would be working in the test lab smash testing glass! This was a dream come true and he could start asap. I told him I needed to give 2 weeks notice at the box factory. We set a date for me to start, but he said they are very strict for the probationary period. I was not allowed to be absent or late for the first 90 days. I put in my notice at the box factory on my 2 year anniversary (to the day). I got my vacation check and said good riddance. I spent the next 2 weeks just partying my ass off.
The day finally came when I was to start the new job. I don't know if you are familiar with the thunderstorms in Texas, but when it rains, it freakin' rains. And as luck would have it the power must have went out for a couple hours and my alarm clock did not go off. I would have been 15 - 20 minutes late (if I was allowed to come in). I called and pleaded my case, but the hr guy reminded me of the strict probationary period and said there was nothing he could do and he was sorry.
There was nothing he could do and he was sorry.
To be continued...
Wouldn't you know, I got bumped to 2nd shift; 2 pm to 10 pm. The work was the same, I do have a couple funny ass memories, like the time with my supervisor Clovis Stevens. Clovis was ok, but like a good company man, he would smile rarely and watch us out of the corner of his eye. One day I was sitting outside at the picnic table eating lunch at work and I looked at the nearest tree and there was like a hundred of those discarded cicada (locust) shells stuck to it. I remember In Indiana, we would find 1 or 2 of the bug shells stuck to a tree, but on this Texas tree was busload. I collected about 50 and put them in a sack and took them back into the building. Clovis was not back from lunch yet, so I opened his top middle desk drawer and lined up the 50 cicada shells like a little bug army. I closed the drawer real careful and snuck back to my machine. A couple hours later, I heard Clovis let out a blood-curdling scream. I am sure he knew I did it but no one would fess up.
Getting off at 10pm though, it was party time! We would party till 3 or 4 in the morning, then I would sleep till around noon. I would get up and get ready for work and leave the house by 1:30. So it seems all I was doing was working and partying. It was great, but looking at the big picture, I could tell I was getting nowhere. Rent and partying kept me from saving any money and after a year of this, it just seemed like a dead end.
Inside the factory was about the most boring thing ever. I was running a box stitching machine that stapled the boxes together in the corner. Once I set up the machine, I could run the same size and style of box through the machine for 2 to 3 days. I would just stand behind the stack and fold the 2 flaps in and push it into the stitcher. Repeat this like 50 thousand times. There was clock within eyeshot and time went frustratingly slow. I would look at the clock and "oh shit, it is only 3 minutes later than the last time I looked at the clock. I was 20 and burnt out again, I started looking for a different job.
The first job I actually had a chance at was Highland Appliance. It was a big electronics store and it just seemed exciting and I am sure time would go much quicker than factory work. I made it past the interview and they sent me to a lie detector test downtown Dallas. I found my way there and was invited in by a 300 pound ex-marine looking guy. No joking, just sit down and get to the matter at hand. He strapped me in and for the next hour gave me the third degree. I knew I was screwed when he asked me if I ever stole from an employer. Working at Sambo's restaurant, I ate my share of overcooked steaks (does that count?), and working at Brunswick bowling alley, I bowled thousands of games after we locked the doors. Not to mention working for Bud and Marvin, I drilled my own bowling balls and chalked it up to promotion. Needless to say, I cannot add Highland Appliance to my resume.
Here is where it gets interesting. I found a company that made optical glass and lenses for telescopes and binoculars. They had a new government contract to make a bunch of stuff for the Army. The place was amazingly clean. Everybody had on white lab coats and were smiling. The hr guy led me all around and introduced me to everyone. He said I would be working in the test lab smash testing glass! This was a dream come true and he could start asap. I told him I needed to give 2 weeks notice at the box factory. We set a date for me to start, but he said they are very strict for the probationary period. I was not allowed to be absent or late for the first 90 days. I put in my notice at the box factory on my 2 year anniversary (to the day). I got my vacation check and said good riddance. I spent the next 2 weeks just partying my ass off.
The day finally came when I was to start the new job. I don't know if you are familiar with the thunderstorms in Texas, but when it rains, it freakin' rains. And as luck would have it the power must have went out for a couple hours and my alarm clock did not go off. I would have been 15 - 20 minutes late (if I was allowed to come in). I called and pleaded my case, but the hr guy reminded me of the strict probationary period and said there was nothing he could do and he was sorry.
There was nothing he could do and he was sorry.
To be continued...
Thursday, January 22, 2009
Crappy Jobs part 2...
Before I get into the life changing decision, I must have had a mental block because I left out one of the crappiest jobs ever. Somewhere between Sambo's and Brunswick bowling alley, I worked a couple months at a plase called the Casad depot in the "frog shop". A frog is the piece of steel that hooks 2 pieces of train track together. Our job at the frog shop was to get in old frogs and refinish them into new frogs. We got them in two different ways. One way was several hundred stacked on a pallet on a flatbed semi truck. They had to be unloaded by hand because we did not have a forklift big enough to lift the pallet. So 5 or 6 of us would climb up on the trailer and one by one we would lift and stack them on a new pallet on our little fork lift. Each frog weighed about 50 pounds and it would take a couple hours.
The other way we would get them would be used ones. I don't know how those got unloaded, but when we got them they had to be grinded down to bare metal with a grinder. After that it would come to my portion of the program. They had a jig that was made out of a 4 foot piece of train track with c-clamps on it. I had to place a layer of this plasticky burlap in the jig, then coat the frog liberally with the stickiest glue you have ever seen. I would place the gluey frog in in the jig on the plasticky burlap and clamp it tight. It then went in the oven for an hour or so. When they came out of the oven, I had to unclamp it, remove it from the jig and trim the excess garbage off the frog. Between the glue, the oven and the lingering grindings, it was a hot, dirty stinking hell-hole. Everything I would eat would tase like the gluey smokey inside of a building. I remember the boss always wore an orange hooded sweatshirt and yelled at us constantly. That job paid $4 an hour with no benefits.
Ok, thankfully the bowling alley called. I then had a better attitude about work... Like I said before Joe was a pretty good boss. Brunswick had a habit of changing managers every couple years, so I had me 2 other managers before Joe got there. He told me that the bowling alley business was actually a pretty good business to be in. He said I had a good aptitude toward it, and it was kind of nice actually getting a compliment at work instead of being yelled at daily. He recommended looking into Vincennes University, which at the time had the only bowling management major in the United States. It was junior college, and their record was 100% placement for bowling management graduates. Ok that was it, the most critical decision ever was to go to college for bowling lanes management in Vincennes Indiana.
Since I am discussing the crappy jobs I have had, I will not go into my schooling (for now), other than the fact that I graduated in 1981 with a 3.75 gpa thanks to instructor Jim Sullivan. I took a job in Garland Texas sharing management duties with fellow graduate "Rich". Rich and I were to manage both Fiesta Bowl and Bowlerland Lanes in Garland. During interview week, I was actually in Buffalo New York bowling in the college national bowling tournament. Needless to say, since we were bowling management majors, we had a kick-ass bowling team. (We came in 2nd). Anyhow my point is, I missed all the damn interviews except the Garland Texas one and an offer to run a bowing alley in Saudi Arabia on a military base. I took the Garland Job at $16,000 to start (1981).
Rich and I got an apartment together not to far from the bowling alleys. We got to know the owners, Bud and Marvin. A couple of eccentric fellows that moved here from Chicago to make their fortune. Rich was generally at Fiesta bowl with Bud, and I was mostly at Bowlerland with Marvin. Rich lasted a grand total of 3 weeks when I woke up one day and found a note and his keys to the bowling alley. So now I got to (learn to) run both centers. At that time, the county we were in were in was dry, meaning no alcohol sold there. And in my history, bowling alleys and beer were inseparable and since there was a Don Carter supercenter just across the county line, we were losing a lot of business. I was hired to build the business back up.
I spent weekdays from about 8 am to 4 pm out on the streets going to businesses and factories offering free bowling parties to the human resource manager of anywhere I could find. I would offer them 3 free games of bowling and 2 hot dogs to every person if they could get 20 or more people to participate. Then I would spend the evenings during the parties talking to everyone, trying to get them to sign up for a bowling league. Then I would tally up the day's earnings and make out the bank deposit and the cash drawers for the next day. I would lock the doors on weeknights around 2 am. Weekend around 3 am.
This went on for 3 months with not one day off. I expressed my dissatisfaction several time to Bud and Marvin. I asked for more money, but they said they wanted to see the results of my bowling party sales finesse to see if they could afford it. One beautiful 100 degree Texas day, I was scheduled to meet with the hr manager of St. Regis Paper Company in Garland. He was actually a nice guy and we got to shooting the bull about my plight. He said they were hiring at a starting wage of $6.92 an hour starting wage. I did the math and figured about $14,500 with just a bit of ot, but working only 40 hours and having weekends off was just too enticing. I was just plain wore out from the last 3 months, and asked Bud and Marvin one last time for a substantial raise. They declined so I resigned. It was a hard choice, after basing a lot of my life's goals around the bowling biz, but if there ever was job burnout, I was the poster child.
to be continued....
The other way we would get them would be used ones. I don't know how those got unloaded, but when we got them they had to be grinded down to bare metal with a grinder. After that it would come to my portion of the program. They had a jig that was made out of a 4 foot piece of train track with c-clamps on it. I had to place a layer of this plasticky burlap in the jig, then coat the frog liberally with the stickiest glue you have ever seen. I would place the gluey frog in in the jig on the plasticky burlap and clamp it tight. It then went in the oven for an hour or so. When they came out of the oven, I had to unclamp it, remove it from the jig and trim the excess garbage off the frog. Between the glue, the oven and the lingering grindings, it was a hot, dirty stinking hell-hole. Everything I would eat would tase like the gluey smokey inside of a building. I remember the boss always wore an orange hooded sweatshirt and yelled at us constantly. That job paid $4 an hour with no benefits.
Ok, thankfully the bowling alley called. I then had a better attitude about work... Like I said before Joe was a pretty good boss. Brunswick had a habit of changing managers every couple years, so I had me 2 other managers before Joe got there. He told me that the bowling alley business was actually a pretty good business to be in. He said I had a good aptitude toward it, and it was kind of nice actually getting a compliment at work instead of being yelled at daily. He recommended looking into Vincennes University, which at the time had the only bowling management major in the United States. It was junior college, and their record was 100% placement for bowling management graduates. Ok that was it, the most critical decision ever was to go to college for bowling lanes management in Vincennes Indiana.
Since I am discussing the crappy jobs I have had, I will not go into my schooling (for now), other than the fact that I graduated in 1981 with a 3.75 gpa thanks to instructor Jim Sullivan. I took a job in Garland Texas sharing management duties with fellow graduate "Rich". Rich and I were to manage both Fiesta Bowl and Bowlerland Lanes in Garland. During interview week, I was actually in Buffalo New York bowling in the college national bowling tournament. Needless to say, since we were bowling management majors, we had a kick-ass bowling team. (We came in 2nd). Anyhow my point is, I missed all the damn interviews except the Garland Texas one and an offer to run a bowing alley in Saudi Arabia on a military base. I took the Garland Job at $16,000 to start (1981).
Rich and I got an apartment together not to far from the bowling alleys. We got to know the owners, Bud and Marvin. A couple of eccentric fellows that moved here from Chicago to make their fortune. Rich was generally at Fiesta bowl with Bud, and I was mostly at Bowlerland with Marvin. Rich lasted a grand total of 3 weeks when I woke up one day and found a note and his keys to the bowling alley. So now I got to (learn to) run both centers. At that time, the county we were in were in was dry, meaning no alcohol sold there. And in my history, bowling alleys and beer were inseparable and since there was a Don Carter supercenter just across the county line, we were losing a lot of business. I was hired to build the business back up.
I spent weekdays from about 8 am to 4 pm out on the streets going to businesses and factories offering free bowling parties to the human resource manager of anywhere I could find. I would offer them 3 free games of bowling and 2 hot dogs to every person if they could get 20 or more people to participate. Then I would spend the evenings during the parties talking to everyone, trying to get them to sign up for a bowling league. Then I would tally up the day's earnings and make out the bank deposit and the cash drawers for the next day. I would lock the doors on weeknights around 2 am. Weekend around 3 am.
This went on for 3 months with not one day off. I expressed my dissatisfaction several time to Bud and Marvin. I asked for more money, but they said they wanted to see the results of my bowling party sales finesse to see if they could afford it. One beautiful 100 degree Texas day, I was scheduled to meet with the hr manager of St. Regis Paper Company in Garland. He was actually a nice guy and we got to shooting the bull about my plight. He said they were hiring at a starting wage of $6.92 an hour starting wage. I did the math and figured about $14,500 with just a bit of ot, but working only 40 hours and having weekends off was just too enticing. I was just plain wore out from the last 3 months, and asked Bud and Marvin one last time for a substantial raise. They declined so I resigned. It was a hard choice, after basing a lot of my life's goals around the bowling biz, but if there ever was job burnout, I was the poster child.
to be continued....
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