The little cafe who couldn't make up its mind

In April, I took a weekend job at a cafe, 13 hours a week (on top of my 40-hour job). Then I heard the cafe was for sale, and I kind of shrugged, thinking that I wouldn't be heartbroken to lose the job shortly after getting it. A woman named Ati was interested in buying the cafe and taking it over, and she came in to get familiar with the cafe a few times. So then I started thinking, "I might still have this job after all." (Bummer. I had been looking forward to getting my weekends back.)

She backed out. Max, the owner, for whom the cafe was his second business, didn't think it was feasible to keep pumping money into the cafe. So, he set a date for the cafe's closing: June 21st. He laid off two employees (from a staff of five), reduced hours, and told everyone remaining, "We're just gonna get through the next six weeks." The last time I talked to Ashley, a manager, she told me that she wasn't getting paid a manager's salary anymore and she had lost her week's paid vacation that she had earned, because Max said he couldn't afford it. I didn't see her again, since her schedule changed to weekdays and mine was weekends. Once the closing was announced (and probably the sale price was slashed), Ati regained interest in buying the cafe.

Then Ashley's name disappeared off the schedule. I came in last Saturday, baked muffins, brewed coffee, and waited for my co-worker Dan to arrive so I could hear what happened with Ashley. Did she get frustrated and quit? Understandable, particularly if she was still expected to do managerial duties but not be getting paid for them. She also had an upcoming move, and it's hard to plan a big event like that if you're not sure you'll have a job.

Dan gets there, and we get as far as, "I saw Ashley's not on the schedule anymore..." when Max arrives with an announcement: the big storage refrigerator is broken, Ati has backed out again, we're closing the very next day. Dan says a few words to me, of the 'what would you do if I left' variety, then leaves.

Again, understandable. Not the smartest move, but I get it.

So, for the first time, I actually worked the day with Max. Pretty much every customer I talked to had a better business plan than Max, and most of them included actually working there, alleviating the need to pay staff. Makes sense to me. I also heard Max complaining to customers about Dan's storm-out, which I thought was totally inappropriate. He was still the business owner for those last two days, and there was no reason for the unprofessionalism.

That Saturday was long. I was only scheduled until 2 (when the cafe closed, and Dan would have stayed to do the closing duties). Max had who-knows-what going on, a bunch of people came and ordered complicated things in the last few minutes we were open, so I ended up staying until almost 3, not even really knowing what one does for closing.

But Sunday had that finality to it, which made it feel pretty quick. My favorite parts where when we'd get busy and sandwiches would start getting backed up. I'd say to myself, "What are they gonna do, not come back?"

I know plenty of people will miss the cafe. There are only 1200 people in this town in the first place, many of whom had never been there. For a place with such an extensive menu, people mostly seemed to get coffee and bagel sandwiches (which, for my part of the business plan, is all I would offer, if it were my cafe).

But it's no longer my problem. I told Max I was leaving at 2 on Sunday, per my schedule. He let me load up my (large!) bag with foods from the cafe. I got some bagels, sausage, chips, cocoa powder, wasabi powder, sesame seeds, garlic powder, cinnamon sticks, and I almost got a big tub of pesto, but Max basically stole it back from me. Oh well. As long as I get paid for the last two days of work!

Andy and I had figured out that if I worked there a year and took my paychecks from there, we could have paid off one of his student loans entirely. Granted, the smaller one, but the one with the higher interest rate. It didn't last a year, but I wouldn't have, either.

We are going to get our weekends back. And clearly, it's time to start watching Twin Peaks again. And kicking it off with some donuts and coffee in our RR mugs.

(But seriously, Julie, it was "We're done. We're not done." all over again!)

Happy 60th Dad!

My dad and my brother, maybe before my arrival? (Sorry for blurry)

Wedding day!

I love you!

Refocus

All right. It's been nearly a year since my last update. My letter-writing petered out. I still think writing letters is a good thing, but I clearly can't keep up with one a week.

Maybe my new focus should be one post a week, of any kind. I had at one point thought maybe after a year of letters, I would read one book a week. Even I know that's overly-ambitious.

Since I don't have any readers, I guess I can't ask what "you" would like to read. Here are a few potential subjects:
1) A review and/or pictures of something I have cooked (baked, most likely). Who doesn't need more food blogs?
2) Stories about the kids for whom I nanny
3) Stories from my weekend cafe job (ending in mid-June)
4) Heck, I might still send letters out, once in a while!

I guess I don't need a focus, necessarily. And since I left Facebook, this might be a good way to allow others to cyberstalk me. If I would ever actually give anyone this link. :-D

Uncle Traveling Matt

I've always told my brother (whose name is conveniently Matt) that when I have kids, he will have to be my children's Uncle Traveling Matt, like from Fraggle Rock. I'm looking forward to his making good on that.

I did get around to writing him that letter. One day at work I was talking to J about my older brother, and with nothing having been said to put this in her mind, she asked, "Did he already die?" I thought that was a funny if not morbid thing for a child her age (three) to wonder.

My letter was also full of completely random thoughts, because that's how I seem to function when I'm with Matt, or apparently, writing to him. I haven't seen him since this past Christmas, but when I do, I'm always reminded of the ways in which I'd like to be more like him. He's always had an air of not caring what other people think, and I appreciate that. I tend to dwell on that, mostly what people would think if I messed up in whatever I'm attempting. So better not to attempt, right? I've been trying to shake that.

I also received a letter yesterday from my friend Lindsey (from a few posts back) but I haven't opened it yet. It's sitting right over on the counter, but I keep seeing it as I'm heading out the door and don't pick it up right that second. I'll get to it. No need to rush.

Today I'm attempting to bake bread. Our sourdough starter works great for pancakes but is not so hot for actual bread-baking. I've added some additional yeast to it in the hopes that'll kick its butt into rising. And, since I'll have the oven on, I might as well make a loaf of rosemary olive oil bread. (Did I mention it has chocolate?)

It's Saturday and I'm sure I've missed the mail pick-up for today, but maybe I'll write something today or tomorrow and count it for this week's send-out. Not like anyone's holding me to this!

Season's greetings

Okay, so it's not the holiday season. But it is spring, which means graduations (Andy's cousin's, to be exact), and my dad's birthday. Those were this week's two cards.

When Andy and I went to SF in March, we visited his aunt and uncle, and his cousin Elie, who is about to graduate high school. I couldn't think of anything wise and noble to say to her during the tumultuous but exciting time, but I did enclose a check, which was probably a safe bet.

My dad's birthday is tomorrow, and I have to admit that I don't know how old he is. I'm terrible about that: I don't know his age, my mom's, my brother's, and sometimes I forget my own. But I did remember the date and hopefully mailed the card out soon enough that he'll get it on the right day. There are quite a few places where he lives that offer free birthday awesomeness, so I hope he'll go out and get what he's earned by doing such a good job of having been born (however many years ago).

On a postally-unrelated note, I just returned from a craigslist purchase: a pressure cooker! I had to drive about 40 minutes to get it, but I spent $20 plus... oh, $5 worth of gas, to purchase something that goes for ~$80 new. I'm interested to get into canning, but I didn't want to spend $100+ to buy all-new supplies for something in which I might lose interest. Plus, Carla came in the car with me, and that kept me entertained when I got a little lost and then had to wait for-freakin'-ever to back out of this woman's driveway. Actually some dude looked like he was going to get out of his car and bite my face when I wouldn't pull around (into a narrow space) a car with a dead battery. I waited until there was actually room, instead of nosing through and possibly scratching my car (or worse, the nice-looking dead one). I probably kept the guy behind me waiting for an extra traffic light cycle. Sucks to be him.

I've promised my brother a letter, since the little girl I work with said something funny about him, and I thought it was letter-worthy. That's on my to-do list for next week.

Now, get out there and write!

Behind again

All right... I know what you're thinking. "Is this a once-a-week blog, or not?" In my defense, I've written letters. I just haven't written about writing the letters.

Two weeks ago
I wrote a letter to Amy, a woman who I still refer to as my youth group leader, even though it's been eight years since I was a member. She's been one of my best friends for a long time, and the group provided a chance for me to be a leader, and probably is one of the things that got me into college. She's a no-nonsense lady and always treated us like we were intelligent people rather than kids to be discounted. I remember she had us take an anonymous test about sex and STDs and stuff to show our parents that we knew way more than they might have thought. Anyway, I sent her a letter telling her what's going on, and some memories of our group.

One week ago
I wrote (but have yet to have found an address to actually mail it) a letter to my other youth group leader, Jason. Kind of the same stuff--thanking him for putting up with us, which wasn't always easy. He was a later addition to the group, coming in after the group and its dynamics were already in place, and he volunteered to work with us. He was (and probably still is!) a great guy. He moved away from our hometown while I was out of the country, he got married in another state when I lived in a different one as well, and I've had no contact with him in a long, long time. I don't know if he knows that I started dating someone five-and-a-half years ago, and that I married him! Unfortunately, Google and whitepages.com didn't turn up his information and he's not on Facebook, but his wife is. I don't really know her, so I can't really blame her for not responding to my request for their address.

This week!
I wrote a card to friends from our Madison days. Neither couple lives there anymore. They were married in Milwaukee last year at a beautiful wedding at the Milwaukee Art Museum. We moved out east a few months after that, they moved to Chicago to be a morally-neutral lawyer couple (she works pro-bono, he... does not).

I did make it to the post office for two-cent stamps, but I didn't photo-document the journey. Why?

The worker at the post office informed me, after I was in the door, that only service dogs were allowed in. I had my hands full with the leash, so no pictures this time. But meet Carla, our rescue dog. I wish she'd stop waking at 4:30.

Until next week!

Playing catsup

CM Burns: "Ketchup, catsup. Ketchup, catsup."

I'm behind on blogs and letters already. Oops!

In my last post, I mentioned that my m-i-l is way better at sending notes and cards than anyone I know. So naturally I wrote her a nice card telling her how great it is to be her daughter-in-law (awwww).

I haven't figured out to whom my next letter should go. It's kind of sad how after three or four pieces, I'm scrounging through friends/acquaintances. Maybe it's just hard because I'm a procrastinator. We'll go with that.

USPS is getting more serious about getting rid of Saturday delivery. It would still have to be approved by Congress, but if approved, we would be Saturday-less by mid-2011. Article here.

I'll think of a really, really good letter for later this week. Maybe I'll take my camera and have a picture-filled entry of a trip to the post office to buy two-cent stamps!