Four Months In, And....

Today is four months since our little soda shop opened. It has been a whirlwind and also a marathon. 

I have stressed nonstop since we opened. I worry this venture will bankrupt Genius Golfer and me. I worry it will make one or both of us crazy. I worry this could be the reason behind G deciding I'm too much work--since I come with the shop--and will divorce me.

In reality, GG has been a ROCKSTAR! He works his regular job from home then comes over and works another full time job at the shop. He handles all the bills, orders, accounting, payroll and franchise stuff. He talks me down off the ledges I keep finding myself teetering on. He reminds me that we will be fine, and that this is what I signed on for--for the next 10 years.

Actually I have come to understand that we can tot his project with differing mental picture of what this would look like. I imagined that I'd hire and train all the cute high school kids and then leave them working happily as I ran errands and did marketing in person to the schools, PTAs, etc. I imagined that GG would receive the billing for vendors and payroll and write the checks. Oh how wrong I have been!

I work M-Sat, from before we open until usually, 6 or 7PM. Saturdays I'm in a little later and out a little earlier, thanks to GG who spends another very full day there. I think I am averaging 60 hrs/week since we opened. My body sure feels it. On weekends when the local high schools have dances, I work more since the Saturdays are reserved for day-dates and dance things for our employees. I have been open to close several weekend nights because I am free labor and no one else was available.

On Sundays GG will deep clean the coke machines monthly and the ice machine quarterly, since that is the only day we are closed. We usually visit the shop every Sunday to pick up the rags for laundry, or at least to make a drink for ourselves.

But the weather finally turned out of winter and that has made all the difference. We are just beginning the summer season down here and the warm sunny weather brings people out in much larger numbers. Now if we can just keep enough employees all summer--while their families go on vacations, the kids go to camps and conferences, and all the regular family stuff people do together--to keep our shifts staffed to serve our customers when t ey come in.

Good Things come to Those Who Wait, Right?

 Well, our Quench-It building is still not quite done, but we are SO close! I have 8 applicants today ready to be interviewed to work for us. The post has been private and sent only to kids who have reached out to me so far. Tomorrow I will make it public and hopefully we will get enough applicants to fill the roster of employees.

The waiting has been SO frustrating though. I know that I haven't ever been a very patient person, but this forced situation was completely out of my hands. I like to think I am in control of my life, but in reality it isn't at all. Like so many things I worry about, my worries are recreational so far as I cannot control them. Patience is a virtue I desperately need to develop but I have not wanted to ask God for patience because He will only send me more things to develop that attribute and I don't want anymore situation that need me to be patient about them.

On the upside, all this time--waiting and being frustrated--has helped me get my health in check as well as chip away at my weight. I'm still 10-15 pounds from where I'd like to be ideally but I am closer and I feel so much better. My thyroid is well in hand now and my other hormone issues--thanks, menopause!--are coming back to normal too. But that has been along and rather expensive process. I guess that is the gist of this whole year for us: a long and expensive process!

I am happy to report that I have made several good friend sin this ward and have loved to feel a part of a ward family again. I made the mistake of praying for friends--only to be called to be the Relief Society president in the ward. That is one way to make friends. Just wasn't what I had in mind--but the Lord has a wicked sense of humor. But I am grateful, regardless. I have come to love the sisters int eh ward and my testimony of the Savior and His atonement is only deepened as I serve Him. I also have come to learn how important my personal conversion and commitment is to my relationship with God. I am certainly blessed as I remain committed and converted. But my place with conversion and commitment is reaffirmed with acceptance of prophetic guidance and local direction. We do not have time to be worried about "how things were always done" if the prophet directs us differently, we need to get on that bus with him and forget the old ways. Goodness comes as we do that too.

One unexpected thing that has come of all the hurry up and wait along with the accompanying frustration and worry is that my relationship with Genius golfer has been strengthened too. He really is amazing and I cannot praise him enough for all he has done to not only support us financially while I have waited to open our business, btu all his dedication to see our building done right and correct and as close to budget and time frame as we hoped. He has figured out SO many problems--many that weren't really his problem to begin with--and has straightened them out himself. He is the real superhero in this experience.

Time for self reflection and growth isn't what I planned on when I started this year. But it is exactly what I have been given. I just hope I am progressing in my personal development as the Lord would have me--otherwise I have missed the purpose of my journey this year.

Demoralized, Devalued, Demolished

 This week.  Well, It was a month-long kinds of week. I have had weeks that I ended my work feeling tired, but this week I felt tired to the core.  I felt demoralized in my efforts to do my work, thanks to coworkers, and especially customers.  I felt broken in my desires to get up and go again. I was absolutely disintegrated.

This past Thursday night I came home after having worked the fourth day that was more than 9 hours.  I had taken direct verbal beatings that day from more customers than I have fingers on my hands.  I heard coworkers in my building essentially tell me, to my face, that me and my team were below their notice in our importance to the success of the business. I was directly, personally confronted with a recently-made-senior coworker that was supposed to be home quarantining after direct Covid exposure but felt he was more important in his new position to show up anyway, in his basketball shorts and t-shirts only to come in the tiny lunchroom we have been mandated to use and sat directly next to me while I had 5 minutes to eat my lunch away from my desk. Several sales-based coworkers continued to drag unmasked clients and  their families through our service area as though we did not need to be equally protected from the potential exposure. We have 8 coworkers who currently are actively fighting this virus at home.

Perhaps, it was the worst day of my working life.

I felt devalued. I felt taken advantage of in my position. I felt very Mother-Bear regarding my own employees in that moment. I felt there was no reason to get up and do it again Friday morning.  What was the point?

That evening, feeling sorry for myself and severely undervalued in my work-life, I spoke with the Hubz before going to bed. Genius Golfer listened and then thought a moment and then told me I need to quit feeling sorry for myself and get back to work. Now, I was ANGRY on top of all the other feelings that night. I felt hurt by my primary champion and partner. I went to bed with tear in my eyes and fists of clenched anger. His words stung.  I really wanted to just have him tell me how right I was and how I didn't need to be there if they didn't appreciate what I did each day. Instead he told me something I didn't expect and I didn't want to hear.

I slept poorly that night.  I was tossing and turning.  I woke up several times before my alarm went off at 5AM. I drug myself into the shower and into an acceptable enough dress and grooming result to drag myself to a job I was less than satisfied with on Friday.

The things I went home thinking and feeling Thursday night, didn't magically disappear Friday morning at 6:30AM when I got busy doing what I do each morning at work.  I didn't get different feedback from customers the next day. I still had coworkers that were thoughtless and careless in regards to precautions for Coronavirus. I still felt I was unable to pay my team what I think they are worth monetarily.  Nothing really changed. But I was there.  I still showed up.  I still gave 100+% of my attention, energy and focus that day. 

I was there because it was the right thing to do. It wasn't what I wanted to do, but I did it anyway.

Maybe just showing up is the antidote to demoralization, and devaluation, and demolition. Just get through it. Just show up. Just keep trying.  It isn't easy. But maybe because I did it on Friday after the Thursday I had just had, it will feel easier to do when I have another day like that.  I am certain I will have that day, but I hope my fortitude practiced this week, will make the effort next time a little bit easier.

#52 Stories--Story # 36

What is something you never understood or appreciated about your father until much later in life?

I know my dad would tell us of the poverty he knew as a child and the idea of not having what you needed unless you got it for yourself. That was hard to understand as a child and young person because my life was always pretty blessed.  We had what we needed--but not always what we wanted--and that was probably for the best. We learned to make do with that we had sometimes or work and save and plan for whatever else we wanted.  Nothing was supposedly given to us--even though I see now that so much was! He told us those heart breaking kind of stories of his childhood on the railroad or living in little homes without electricity or water, and it made our lives seem pretty cushy. I never felt like we we missing much. We had opportunities poured out on us as we grew up--raising animals, riding bikes, using our imagination, exploring new places--that helped us see how blessed we were.

As a child myself I didn't see the wisdom in him telling us those stories though.  It just made his childhood sound sad and pretty unhappy.

He has talked in the past before about his parents and what they were like--especially before they were converted to the gospel of Jesus Christ.  My gramps was not a happy man when he drank, and my gram was a scared young woman, just older than a girl herself. I don't think joining the church was an immediate turn about for them, but it gave them a new way of seeing their lives and their family. Then finally when they did get active and were living the gospel fully, there were many changes in his parents that he didn't get the benefit of as a child himself. I look at this now and see how much more the gospel meant to him that my sister and I had the "after" portion of the life he had with parents who lived the gospel. We weren't perfect at it, but I can see now how much that meant to him.

#52 Stories--Story # 33

Who are some other important mother figures who have been influential in your life?

I feel like I was very lucky to have many women who modeled wonderful examples of womanhood and motherhood to me as I was growing up.  I'm luckier yet to call them my friends now.

I had a spattering of marvelous young women leaders--Irene Day, Diane Sefton, Toni Zamarron, Cindy Anderson, Sister Nordstrom, Lucia Cooper, and others--I'm sure more names will come to me as the days go by this month.  I spent many weeks of girls camps, Wednesday activities, and Sundays being guided by these wonderful ladies. They showed me how to be a woman of faith, a woman who trusts her Heavenly Father, who knows Jesus Christ and chooses to follow Him. They helped me develop a testimony of my own.  I'd have to include my mom in this group too, because she spent much of these years with me in some supportive role.  She's the best example of all.

I also had some wonderful teachers elsewhere in my life.  Stacy Thacker was a stand out Sunday School teacher as a young teen.  I knew that she knew the Gospel was true and she tried her hardest each week to get us to understand that same truth. 

Teddy Goodrich and Nancy Serigstad were female high school teachers that meant a lot to me. I learned more than just textbook material from them. They made me want to be a teacher someday.

I also had some neighbors and 4H leaders that showed me leaderships styles in the community and wider world. MaryLou Rawitser was our goat leader.  I'm sure she had better things to do with her time, but she was there with us each weekend the goats were showed.  Georgene Abbott was another 4H leader who taught me perseverance and stick-to-it-ive-ness.  Diane Scariot showed me another view of hard work and care of family. Kathy Larsen was a mom who had fun with her family and supported her girls in whatever they had going on.

Then I had a group of women who were friends' moms--who I maybe didn't have the same kind of relationship as their child, but I felt keenly their love for me.  Shari Hoggan, Jan Porter, Diane Sefton and Irene Day--fell in this category too, and Claudia Kambish, to name a few off the top of my head.  I knew they loved their kids--and counted me in that group more often than not.

I have been greatly blessed by so many wonderful women as I was growing up.  I am not sure they all understand how important and valuable they are to me.  I hope I have done my best to make them proud of me and that my own kids will have women just like them in their lives to teach them similar lessons.

#52 Stories--Story #32

How have challenges and hardship shaped the women in your family? In what ways have trials formed characters?

My mom didn't tell us much about her growing up life--I mean we knew she was a good student and had good friends.  She was more athletic than I ever was, but my sister shared that interest.  I knew she was a hard worker and everything she was able to do or have was pretty much because she worked for it.  Her family growing up was poor and transitory--they moved a LOT when she was in school. Her mother had mental illness from the time she was just starting to understand the bigger world. She was forced to deal with some pretty grown-up and heavy issues early in her life.  Her dad drank and was absentee in their home life a lot. Her parents argued a lot. She was anxious to make her own way in the world and it wasn't long after she graduated from high school that she moved out and soon moved away.

Her character reflects all of that.  She did her best to protect us from the transitory nature of her growing up by living in the same place while we were in school.  I graduated from high school with kids I had been in first grade with--in some cases.  I have solid roots in my hometown. She taught us to work hard and be productive.  We were strongly discouraged from wasting time and becoming undependable.  She and my dad still are in love--it was even embarrassing sometimes as a teenager--but I am so grateful for that stability in my family of origin.  They showed us what a good family life was like.

My dad's mother, my Gram, lived with us from the time I was about 7 or 8.  I saw in her a woman who was a survivor--sometimes against her will.  She survived a tough life as a young mother and wife.  My gramps wasn't a happy man when he drank, and according to my dad, that was much of the time when their family was young. Bu tthey discovered the Gospel of Jesus Christ and joined the church and some of those things changed.  But Gramps still had unkind thing to say to her at times.  I recall him being quite sharp with her in his tone and his words when she was hurting--which became more and more often as her MS developed.  But she sure tried to put on a good face for my sister and me.  I know she tried hard to show her love for us and her family.  She loasted longer than any of my grandparents and she had been sick a lot longer than any of  them.

My maternal grandmother lived far away, but I knew doubted she loved me. She seemed like a happy person, and at least happy to see us when we were there. as a little girl I didn't understand why she did some things some times, but as I grew up I understood it was not who she was.  She was ill too.  But hers was in her mind.  After my own experience with The Boy's delivery and my battle with post partum depression, I think I had a lot more in common with Grandma than I knew at the time.  I am convinced that she had that same disorder--brought on by having 5 babies in fairly short order in a lonely small isolated place with a partner who had to be away to earn a living.  My situation wasn't that dire, but I think even with differing specifics, the results were similar--but they didn't identify the illness and certainly didn't treat it the same way I was able to. I feel very badly for her now.  I look forward to getting to know her without the illness someday in the next life.  I admire her musicality and sociality. I admire her bright outlook--but maybe that was a providential blessing for her as a coping mechanism. I physically resemble the women on my maternal side, so I feel for them and with them, even if I don't completely understand them all the time.

Finally, I'd like to mention my sister here. We didn't seem to have much in common as we grew up.  We thought differently, we enjoyed different things.  We had different friends and enjoyed/tolerated different relationships with our parents a lot of the time. But as we were adults raising our own children, I came to admire her personal grit and individual strength.  I  watched her endure and survive an incredibly painful divorce, and the subsequent fall out with her children; her personal growth and resiliency has been amazing to observe. I'm not sure I could have done as well as she has in the years since that event. But she shows the best of both sides of the women in our family.  And while I may not say it enough, I am indeed proud of her and I love her.  We still do't have a lot in common, and we might even still have different goals for ourselves, but I feel stronger with her in my corner--even theoretically. And I still admire her.

Makes Ya Think

This morning I attended a funeral of a neighbor.  He was a good man, father, husband, neighbor, and fellow congregant.  He was 66 years old.

His children--6 of them-- now all married and in their own rights good people, took part in the service.  As I listened to reminiscences or memories they shared I couldn't help but think what I would share if I was in their shoes and I was eulogizing my dad.  I'm not saying this to be morose, or to hurry anyone's demise, but funerals are designed to make you stop and think.

Many things came to my mind about my dad, and mom for that matter. As the older daughter of these two unique people, I have a lot of memories.  Some of those are possibly unique to me--but many are shared with others.  One of this neighbor's sons began by saying that his dad  would tell the same story, because he liked to tell it, and you'd listen because of that fact alone until you've heard the story a dozen times.  Immediately I though of the Black Pontiac story.  It's capitalized because it is one of THOSE stories.  I love watching my dad tell that story.  I've heard it more than a dozen times.  I can anticipate the next line and begin chuckling to myself long before I know dad is getting close to the zinger of an ending.

In the funeral the kids talked about their parents being a team in their family's business and in life.  I have seen that with my parents.  How they can still love each other after working all day together--for YEARS!  How they know the other one so well that few things surprise them, but they still try.  It is inspiring and heart warming and fills me with wonder.

They spoke about their dad's business and the "almost done" quality of his work.  How their dad (and electronics repairman) would stop on their way out of town for a vacation to help some granny adjust her TV before they hit the road.  Many times I remember picking up a part being part of the day's activity or running to a customer's place on their way to dinner.

A life long friend of the deceased spoke near the end of the service today of the joy they shared as boys and the appreciation he had of a true, life long friend.  Those kind of people are rare, and to have one is a real treasure.  My parents have a few like that in their lives, and because of my parents' decision to live in the same place and put down permanent roots, I have those in my life too.  he is absolutely right--they are treasures.

The whole morning was a tender reminder of the blessing I have to have parents with me still who not only love me, but love each other--still.  My parents recognize and value their family and they will be the first to say we are not a perfect example of anything, I know they keep trying because it is worth it to them.  And that makes it all the more worth it to me.

I'm even more grateful to have them here still, and while I live 900 miles away, my heart is always closer than that.  Separation is only insurmountable when your heart isn't willing to be there. and that is not the case with my parents.  What a tremendous blessing.  Like they always have been to me.