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Me and Simon Legree
Jun. 13th, 2006 08:07 amRainer doesn't look like an Ewok at all. Instead he looks like the student mortician Ruth takes up with on Six Feet Under (the love interest right before psycho-George) which is to say lumbering, lugubrious and moist.
I liked him.
I'm not sure about the "scaring the customers" part. I guess I'll have to see him in action. It's a hot sauce store after all; customers expect some eccentricity on the part of the paid help.
Bottom line: I can't possibly continue to work seven days a week, eight to ten hours a day in the store. Although I noticed yesterday that I seem to be suffering from a variant of Stockholm syndrome: I actually like spending vast amounts of time in my store. It's such a retreat from the House of Usher-like aspects of my domestic situation.
Setting up payroll though is such a daunting operation, not expensive exactly if you go through Intuit (I hate Intuit but I use their accounting and point of sales software so I suppose they're the logical choice) but intimidating – you need an EIN, you have to collect social security numbers, you need to establish a pay period, deduct federal and state taxes, keep every form in duplicate. It's a lot of work.
I'm doing a base hourly wage plus an incentive for meeting sales goals. No one's getting rich.
There's one other person who's interested in working for me, an enterprising young woman named Jennifer who presently works down the street at the It's Freezing In Monterey But You Didn't Expect It So Now You Have To Drop $20 On A Made-In-China Fleece Jacket store. She loves chili; she has been wandering into the store on her breaks to sample the hot sauce bar on a regular basis. I finally asked, "Would you be interested in working here?" and she said yes, although I'm afraid the dithering and vague nature of my responses when she asked me about the nature of the job may have put her off. She's very no-nonsense.
Rainer and Jennifer are both so young. They don't want collaborative engagement with their boss. They want to be told what to do so they can do it and get on with the rest of their lives.
It's hard for me to tell people what to do.
In other news, I've been thinking of loaning the van to Nathan and Max for a road trip to Deep Springs. It's the only way I can imagine getting Max back with all his stuff. The only problem is that Ben claimed to have done all sorts of work on it – like replacing the wheel bearings and axels – which now it turns out he may not have done. And I can't possibly send the boys out in a death trap. So how am I going to get Max back to Deep Springs?
Before he goes, I'm going to have Max do a dump run. Get rid of the immensely ratty couch, get rid of the snake cage that's been sitting in my closet for a year and a half now since the snake died so I have no place to hang up my clothes. That's progress. Sort of.
I liked him.
I'm not sure about the "scaring the customers" part. I guess I'll have to see him in action. It's a hot sauce store after all; customers expect some eccentricity on the part of the paid help.
Bottom line: I can't possibly continue to work seven days a week, eight to ten hours a day in the store. Although I noticed yesterday that I seem to be suffering from a variant of Stockholm syndrome: I actually like spending vast amounts of time in my store. It's such a retreat from the House of Usher-like aspects of my domestic situation.
Setting up payroll though is such a daunting operation, not expensive exactly if you go through Intuit (I hate Intuit but I use their accounting and point of sales software so I suppose they're the logical choice) but intimidating – you need an EIN, you have to collect social security numbers, you need to establish a pay period, deduct federal and state taxes, keep every form in duplicate. It's a lot of work.
I'm doing a base hourly wage plus an incentive for meeting sales goals. No one's getting rich.
There's one other person who's interested in working for me, an enterprising young woman named Jennifer who presently works down the street at the It's Freezing In Monterey But You Didn't Expect It So Now You Have To Drop $20 On A Made-In-China Fleece Jacket store. She loves chili; she has been wandering into the store on her breaks to sample the hot sauce bar on a regular basis. I finally asked, "Would you be interested in working here?" and she said yes, although I'm afraid the dithering and vague nature of my responses when she asked me about the nature of the job may have put her off. She's very no-nonsense.
Rainer and Jennifer are both so young. They don't want collaborative engagement with their boss. They want to be told what to do so they can do it and get on with the rest of their lives.
It's hard for me to tell people what to do.
In other news, I've been thinking of loaning the van to Nathan and Max for a road trip to Deep Springs. It's the only way I can imagine getting Max back with all his stuff. The only problem is that Ben claimed to have done all sorts of work on it – like replacing the wheel bearings and axels – which now it turns out he may not have done. And I can't possibly send the boys out in a death trap. So how am I going to get Max back to Deep Springs?
Before he goes, I'm going to have Max do a dump run. Get rid of the immensely ratty couch, get rid of the snake cage that's been sitting in my closet for a year and a half now since the snake died so I have no place to hang up my clothes. That's progress. Sort of.
