And so It Continues

Taking another stab at buying a used Jeep.  First attempt didn't go so well, but wasn't the end of the world, until...we wrecked my Cobalt.  Have since put 2000 or so miles on a Jeep that gets no oil to the top of the engine due to a bad main seal....and, let me tell you, she sounds pretty awful. 

So we now own a red 2001 Jeep as well as the black.  Red has a better engine. Black has a nicer body. Red has nicer tires. And so it goes.  If nothing else, we can always drop Red's engine into Black's body if we chose to do so sometime down the road. Ed said direct engine swap $400.

Really, I just want my car back.  I miss the 30 miles per gallon. A LOT.  Black jeep is getting 10, which is half of what it should be getting, but since we have to put it in neutral at lights and hammer down on the accelerator to build up oil pressure...its not much of a shock.


Work blows so far this week. Yes, I realize it IS MONDAY....but really, when you spend half the day arguing with a magazine/book rep that, yeah, the BUYBACKS come from CORPORATE and I REALLY CAN'T just add random books to it because you WANT me to..I'm just ready to send the damn books back without talking to her anymore.  I have to SEND back the BOOKS ON THE BUYBACK. Not other books. Not pig feed. Those EXACT items. Nothing more, nothing less.  So by the end of my day tomorrow, the damn things are going out UPS one way or another.  Fuck you lady.  I know you are trying to do your job, but in doing your job you seem to be trying to get me fired.

Also it is nasty windy cold.  And, of course, the storm the other week blew away all my signage and we have no more out door sleeves...so I had to just red out door tag the shit out of stuff.  Also I get to count Quad 5 this week...meaning the side lot. I spend some of my day today counting about half of it so I won't have to freeze my butt off so much tomorrow.

Work would be a much happier place if we were just all shit faced drunk.



On a happier note, I am making  a rag rug.  Once I get all the braids that I have braided sewn together, I think I'm going to need more shirts to make it larger.  Or maybe I won't make it larger, just depends.

                       

DAY ONE

                                                                      DAY EIGHT

It is getting large enough to be problematic as it has to be perfectly flat to sew...also I found out, DO NOT FOLD IT IN QUARTERS as it doesn't somehow want to flatten out without an iron...I kind of panicked...all those hours and all that work and it was all warped after I'd folded it. Guess I could stitch it do a towel or something?  Don't know.  Really would rather someone with a sewing machine do that. 

It is really cool and homey and colorful...all things I like.

Humans; they are weird.

I often wonder, because the subject rarely comes up in the light of more important things, whether I am the only wife who doesn't get asked to go to people's houses strictly because my husband thinks I'll just sit there like a lump and everyone will ask him whether I am angry or somehow otherwise dislike them? 

I find this absolutely strange. 

My husband is usually quite correct in that I don't interact well with people I don't know.  I just resent the fact that he doesn't give me the right to refuse on my own, which, knowing some of the people he hangs out with a little better by now, I will normally do.

This is usually due to lack of stimulating topics of conversation.  I just don't care how much Person A drank as a teenager or how many drugs Person B did "back in the day."  I also don't care how much Persons A and B drank last weekend.   I'm sorry, but I am 35 years old and most of Jon's friends are in their mid to late 20s and I think they are a little hung up on their teenage years.  Just give it up and become an interesting adult.  I can't imagine the conversations with these people when they hit 50 and they are still harping on their teenage years.  I'd probably have to whack them in the head with a mallet if exposed for too long. 

So, yes, I will sit quietly and drink by myself, and say nothing because I am a guest at someone's house and my Mom taught me you don't pick fights at another person's house--even if that person is clearly an idiot.  I will, however observe. 

Being quiet doesn't necessarily mean I hate a person.  It may merely mean that I have nothing to contribute to a conversation.

I find it strangely narcissistic that adults would be so offended by someone who is being quiet.  Is this some sort of leftover teenage blow to their ego?  Oh, she's quiet...I bet she HATES me.....what the fuck?  Really? 

I rarely hate anyone.  And if I do hate, its for a good reason.  I have extreme dislike, but rarely hate.  And, if I extremely dislike you I am not going to accept any kind of invitation to your house. If I am unsure whether or not I like you I may accept an invitation so I can more clearly make up my mind.  But rarely, if ever, does that result in hatred.  If I do like you, you won't get rid of me; ever, and I may still sometimes be quiet. 

I rarely drink to the point of hangover. This is not to say I don't drink vast quantities, I do, its just, as my friend Ruth tells me, I must have an efficient liver.  And when I do drink vast quantities I do not become "another" person. I don't suddenly yen to dance (which I have never wanted to do--ever--and don't quite understand why people do want to dance).  I won't flash my titties.  I won't giggle incessantly.  I can be quite an introspective drunk...which, means, yes, I will sit back, observe, and think, quietly.

So, I suppose, people are suddenly expecting me to turn into some sort of social butterfly just because they are handing me alcohol and because my husband is a surprisingly social being.

I grew up in a not really populated area and got used to being the weird outcast who didn't actually find, upon observation, that I greatly enjoyed 95 percent of the population.  I enjoyed the remaining 5 percent...and I find the numbers still seem to hold true even in a more populous environment. 

I know this is seemingly random. What brought it up is that my husband went to his old friend L's house last night. Fine. I have no problem with that. I even like L even though he is a schizoprenic. Jon left last night saying he wouldn't be gone too long, it depended on the mood L was in.  And I said fine.  Then Jon made a remark about me usually whining about him going out. (Sometimes I complain because we see each other for short times due to work schedules and his going out can usually mean he is gone from 6 pm until 8 am...no joke.)  I told him that since I wasn't invited I wasn't going to complain. 

This put him on the defensive for some reason.

I wasn't invited to my knowledge.  I have met L maybe twice and if he wanted to invite me, he would have...and, hell, maybe he did and this is why Jon went all defensive because he thought I would ruin his nice time. I don't know.  L is weird.  He is used to other people being weird.  I had that impression when I met him.  I don't think I would offend his sense of "normal." And I don't think I have. 

I really think that is what all this bullshit it about. I push other people's ideas of "normal" to the limit and then they have all these weird teenage emotions still floating around in their heads which makes them think someone quietly drinking and observing must therefore HATE them.

Strange. But since I have never taken any classes in human behavior, maybe its not so strange.  I just have my own observations.

I'd much rather study the behaviors of other animals. 

Bark Bark Bark and more Bark Bark Bark

I have been very lame and anti-posting as of late.  Much of this has to do with the fact that life has predominately sucked and I really don't just want to crawl up on a soap box and whine about how bad I have it; when I know I'm actually really lucky.

We crashed the only working car. Yep.
But I have sweet and wonderful friends.  They came over helped put the Jeep back together (even though yes, it needs an engine and we are driving it currently on borrowed time) and let me camp out on their couch and drive an F350 for a week so I could get to work in exchange for some food and toddler management.  I think I got the better deal, but hey, no complaints.  I was even fed lasagna...which I hadn't eaten in YEARS.

Our Fishy died. A Featherfin Catfish and the only fish I've ever been attached to because of his coolness factor....this was sad.

This is a Fishy. He never was cool with the camera. Cameras meant bright light. Catfish are fairly secretive and don't really care for bright light.  And this was a couple years ago. He had grown larger.


I did get another bunny.  I renamed him Snoops because of his sweetness and inquisitiveness.  Vincent and Snoops get along quite well and I think Vincent is really just happy for some company.  Nothing wrong with a free, cute, sweet Holland lop...nothing at all. I think I'd cuddle him at work if I had time and thought he wouldn't get injured....the pair of them are good for my stress levels.

Vincent is the fluffy Angora and, of course Snoops is the cute lop. The cuteness is nearly unbearable.


Jon got a raise.  I got a middle of the road yearly review...which is, I suppose, not too awful since I only had three days training on being a receiver, and my other training consisted of just "do it" and "this is how its done" with no real explanation which is not fair. Also, the receiver tests that I had no prep for came as quite a shock.  Really?  There is an entire cash handling manual but NOTHING on receiving?  My job is just as important as cash handling...more important as I am the only one who does inventory management unless my boss is feeling particularly ambitious or feels quite in the mood to be helpful (and he does, actually lots of days).

We had lots of kiddos Trick or Treating last night.  We never had so many despite the rain.  So, of course we ran out of candy too early, but, hey, we're on a budget, candy is EXPENSIVE and we never had that many kids before.  I find it odd that NONE of them were from our neighborhood and even more disturbing that all the costumes were pretty awful.  Kids and parents appear to continue to get lazier.  One poor kid got a granola bar...yes, because her siblings had drained us of candy and we didn't have enough.

We did carve pumpkins and I forgot how much I enjoyed it.  I still think I like painting them better, but maybe I'm lame.

Talked to my Aunt who has horrible fears about car accidents (her brother was killed in one) and then of course had to call my parents for fear they would hear the news secondhand.  All my dad had to say was, "well, if you don't figure things out like you always do, give us a call and we'll see what we can do to help."  Which is sweet but I'm a little old to always be running to the parents.  I shouldn't have to at this stage of my life, but things have changed in this country and not for the better.

It is now November and I am just wanting to get all the Black Friday/Christmas bullshit out of the way so things will quiet down at work. I'm really getting tired of 17 boxes of more of UPS per DAY plus the heavy trucks full of Chinese imported junk that TSC apparently has fallen in love with these days.  Would like to know what was wrong with the Larin tie down set...oh, nothing was WRONG with it, it was made in the USA and therefore the PROFIT MARGIN was TOO LOW.  And really that's what its all about, not the employees, not quality, its just about PROFITS.

I also need to find out when our inventory is so I can schedule copious amounts of vacation time around it.  I need a week or so off.

My dog is going apeshit. I think she also could use a vacation.  Not that we can really GO anywhere...unless a miracle occurs or we obtain a new/old Jeep engine...but her barking relentlessly at EVERYTHING is driving me crazy tonight. I can't see anything out there for her to bark at making me think its a neighborhood cat or raccoon or opossum. 

And that's life at the moment.

I Love you, Grandma

I wish my grandmother had been less senile and healthier in her later years.  I have a few things I would like to talk to her about because I think she'd understand because she had the life experience of living through the Great Depression as a child.  There were stories she told that I still adore even though they speak of untold hardship, being very poor, and self reliance.

1.  My grandmother was a very, very skinny child. Then her mother wormed all the kids with tobacco (just like they did the horses!) there on out, my grandmother became pudgy.  So apparently she did have worms.

2.  My grandmother's family also had the whole head lice thing happen while in elementary school (most of them never actually graduated...went until 8th grade and quit).  Instead of the nice shampoos and ect we have now, her mother soaked all their heads in kerosene lamp oil and boiled all the laundry in lye soap.  I for one can not even fathom having kerosene in my hair, the way it must have smelled or felt...and how on earth would it ever wash out?  It probably didn't wash out for a long, long time.

3.  She lived on a family farm, so they were fairly lucky and rarely went hungry; however, they did eat all manner of things including ground hog, rabbit, duck, deer, you name it, if it was free, someone was eating it.

4.  After she married; my grandmother, along with my grandfather, were migrant workers locally at times to make ends meet.  If someone was making hay, picking corn, or something that needed done; they were there; sometimes bartering time for things they needed, sometimes being paid since they were too poor to afford their own land and rented houses for years and years.

5. My dad lived in a small closet on the third floor of a rental house with no heat, quite large cracks in the walls, layers beyond layers of blankets and no indoor toilet for a good portion of his childhood.  This was in the 50's and 60's...the heat was provided by the cook stove in the kitchen...most of the rooms were unheated.

6.  She was rarely idle. She was always cooking and canning, washing laundry in her old fashioned ringer washer, and hanging laundry outside on the line.  (Yes, she did have a dryer, but she liked to smell the sunshine!)  She was always telling stories, teaching her grandkids (me!) something and singing in her off key too high pitched singing voice.  She crocheted, sewed, quilted and made all manner of crafts, including reupholstering furniture.  She donated many many things she had made to local nursing homes.  (In her later years when someone who had hoards of yarn or caches of fabric died, it was generally given to my grandmother...she then made blankets and afghans and donated it to someone who would find some comfort in it.)

Whenever I think of complaining I think of her.  She never did complain. Not once. Not about something that couldn't be helped. If it could be helped, she'd do something about it.

I miss you Grandma. I always get to missing you this time of year. Even though you left us just 6 years ago I feel I've lived a lifetime since then.  School of hard knocks or something, having always been kind of spoiled because my parents made enough and worked enough that we never worried where food or clothes came from...and now I sometimes have wondered where food or clothes would come from.  You died nearer Thanksgiving, but I always think of you in mid October when I moved into your little yellow mobile home and it seemed so empty there without you.  You wanted me there, I wanted to be there, but turns out it was pretty lonely with no other people, no animals, and no one relentlessly baking pies and bread.  In some ways I wish I'd stayed.  But hindsight's 20/20 and there's no telling if I would have been better or worse off.

Have Lacked Motivation to Post

I've totally lacked motivation to post things lately. 

Loads of tension in my household lately have been focused on a geriatric cat who may or may not be suffering from senility. I think senility is quite likely since she has decided our sun room made a fancy litter box in which to pee.  I also suspect accidents in the living room; however I as yet have not had time to deal with the stripping of that immense amount of carpeting.  Cat pee is such a pervasive smell that it seems no amount of anything is getting it out and Jon has been constantly complaining and up my butt about the smell.

I finally obtained his permission to rip out carpeting.  I have done so in the sun room and have since been spending my time removing carpet adhesive from the pretty tiles I found underneath the carpet. The tiles are damaged on the edges due to the tack strips being nailed through them so I am also repairing that damage with concrete patch and am going to work on disguising the damage with a border of paper floor DIY that I found online...pretty cool. Will take some time.  (Senile cat has since stopped peeing on the floor in there. I hope she doesn't find a new spot.)

Once I manage to finish that project, I will rip out the other carpet.  Don't know when that will be or how long it will take me, but I do believe there is nice hardwood under that carpet.  Could be the finish is damaged and I will have more projects than I care to, but I'm okay with it having character.

I am going to have to invest/make rugs.  And possibly invest in lots of nice wool socks as it will feel much much colder without the carpeting.

Jon and I had our three year wedding anniversary last Friday. We celebrated with copious amounts of alcohol, a James Bond Marathon (only Sean Connery, he's the only 'real' Bond) and some much needed together time.  Jon bought me an orchid which I am not supposed to water or anything due to my black thumb and he will have the care of it because I seem to easily kill all things plant.

It seems to rain every weekend.  I can never seem to hang out my bedding and, it being a month since I've been able to hang it out it was gross so I washed it anyway, now I despair that only the sheets will be dry and the blankets are still wet.  If the dryer worked this wouldn't be such an issue, but as it is I've only so much space to hang wet clothing/bedding in the house.

Vincent seems to have the runs again. Mystery, considering he's had no greens and I haven't altered his diet in any way.  Since he wasn't feeling well, he lucked into only having his nails trimmed instead of a haircut. I didn't want to stress him too much.  He doesn't mind nail trimming as much as hair trimming, oddly.

My car, which I have taken good care of since I bought it has decided to burn oil for no good reason. Engine seems to run fine, is getting good mileage, but now wants to smell hot and burn oil.  There's not a speck of rust on the car.  I suppose I will be looking for a wrecked Cobalt with a decent engine at some point. Hopefully at least a year from now.  "New" engine still cheaper than used car.

Not sure I will make it home for Christmas after all, sadly. Need dependable/running car...and right now, we only have the one and since we have yet to win the lotto, this one needs to be conserved until we get another one going.

Flannel is Soft and Amazingly Durable

After recent arguments in my house; I have determined that my 12 year old self was accurate at determining what I would become. Some things have changed for the better, here, but I'm talking essentials.

I am sitting, half drunk listening to the old Alice In Chains album, Dirt (which my brother and I dutifully wore out on cassette tape and had to replace it with a CD)  and explain to Jon why I believe the actual track "Dirt" was underrated back in the day...meaning very early 90s.  (Yes, I am old.)  I was 12 back in 1991.

                                               Yep, Time Warp...1992...I still yen for flannel.


He simply looks at me and asks me why I would think that because Dirt is one of the "classic" albums....ummm.....generational gap, here?  (I was talking about the track not the album...and...I'm not sure if the album IS considered "Classic" and could care less if it is.)  It was new to EVERYONE back in 1992 with the exception of those lucky people who got to see Alice in Chains starting out, perhaps.

                                        This somehow looks wrong; as in the colors.


I let the conversation drop and continue happily singing along, badly, probably, but Jon doesn't complain.  He SAYS I can sing...but I've heard my voice on the voice mail for Jon's phone and I think I sound like a crazed chipmunk; which is bizarre considering the blunt, straightforward way I put things, I think I should sound like a 3 pack a day for 20 years cigarette smoker.  Also, I've been around ACTUAL singers...and the normal volume of their conversation is soooo loud your eardrums will pop...their lungs/diaphragm are that much stronger, they don't even think about it...at least the really quality singers.

Then Jon asks me if I want to rent a movie.  (I don't remember its name now.)  I said that I didn't know because I'd never heard of it and asked him some questions about it.

And he kind of went all mental about me not having social networks to fall back on or people I regularly hang out with.  I assume he means on a weekly/bi weekly basis or whatever he equates with normalcy.  Whatever "normalcy"  others are talking about has never really applied to me and I really could care less what works for everyone else. 

I have a friend, her name is Ruth and she has a James...and, frankly, that's perfect enough for me.  I don't see her often enough, but schedules don't always permit and everyone is always busily trying to play catch up between work and home.

He asked me how I would hear of a movie since I'm immune to most or all advertising (true, I really am...I have this weird tune-out, it's a commercial and therefore doesn't apply thing that snaps into automatic gear) plus we don't have television in the conventional sense, meaning we have Netflix.  And, while the cd player in my car unmercifully died, and I do listen to the radio I am often annoyed enough to turn it off because of the rubbish Sammy Hagar/whatever annoying other bands they play and even if there is a good song, as soon as the station goes to commercial or some DJ ventures forth some boring and mundane opinion my mind wonders and I am in my own little world, quite immune to outside input.

I said I don't know, but why would me asking questions about it bother him so much.

I don't think he answered me.

He just went to the, "you have no friends, you are the epitome of the Grunge Age."

Maybe.  I'm not sure what the "epitome of the Grunge Age" was.  I thought it was more of an "anything goes" sort of mentality than an epitome.  Such as if the hippies, instead of being optimists who yearned to change the world had already realized they'd failed, but it was cool if someone still wanted to try to change the world....

I didn't try to be.

I just always was what I am.

I do what I like.

I am rarely, if ever, entirely or even largely influenced by others.  I like to think for myself and am easily  assimilated into The Borg.

I think corporations are evil and Borg-like...

                                    
                                            I think the Plastic Man has long been assimilated.

                                            (District Manager for those not in the know.)
                                        

I don't believe in any certain religion.  (Unless the religion of the Almighty Dollar is a religion...I believe in that...its pretty damn real..no dollar, well, you'll be really hungry....America could give a fuck less, so whatever must be done to feed yourself, well, better damn well do that, then.)

I don't have overt hope for the future and find hope to be a rather pointless emotion.  (As in: wish in one hand, shit in the other, see which gets filled first.)

I think, things are born into the world, live a while, maybe learn a little something, then die for no apparent reason.

I am awkward and unhappy in most, if not all, really social activities and either need to leave quickly or drink heavily...in either case, I will remain silent and in my own little world if uninterested by the company or the conversation.  It matters not if I am shit faced drunk...if I'm bored and have nothing to contribute to the conversation, I won't contribute.   I find this to be acceptable.  I'm not an argumentative drunk.  According to Jon, many of the people I've met at parties with his friends have decided, somehow, wrongly, that I just don't like THEM.  Maybe. I don't know. I didn't get to know them well enough to decide one way or the other.  I just was bored by their topic of conversation.  It seemed to consist of : 1. doing drugs back in the day 2. video games, or 3.  let's play beer pong...  I consider all those things to be boring.  Also, I don't like beer.  I also don't respond well to small talk.  It's stupid, vapid, pointless, and for those with a terminal fear of silence.

All in all, I think I am a realist...and wonder what exactly is wrong with that?  Nothing.

It's Almost Friday...but Almost Friday Doesn't Cut the Mustard

I have much hate for fourteen foot heavyweight gates. Much hate.  Ever try to balance and lean one up against the side of a business? No?  It's a particular kind of hell.  The only thing worse would be a 16 foot heavyweight gate.

After stowing nearly 30 gates--with help--I might add; my left shoulder is no longer on speaking terms with me...its on shouting terms.  Last night it shouted at me all night long.  Today it is less shouty but stiff and ouchy.  I know I did it no good by continuing my relentless two day assault on the backroom and sidelot. I am always amazed at the amount of lazy that goes on.  Also, I usually get three days for assaulting the backroom but because of the holiday, I have to work extremely hard to catch back up. 
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 I cleaned the sidelot to discover my four hour marathon last week of rearranging to clear a path for 44 pallets of wood pellet fuel...has resulted in idiots rearranging things that DO NOT NEED to be REARRANGED due to the fact that I arranged them for convenience and so that there would be NO DIGGING and therefore fucking shit up.  I also discover that all three salt pallets out front are empty because no one could be bothered to fill them over the weekend despite them being on sale.  Amber K helped with that one because she actually tries to NOT make my job more difficult.  She needs a clone.
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ASM leaves very shortly and I will be glad.  She has no qualms about making shit more difficult for me.  Let's just leave shelves lying about the backroom...or feeds...or whatever she's working on...let's just leave it half assed for someone (me) to put away to make room for the truck.  Hopefully someone already at our store gets promoted (He'd be a good ASM) or we get an actual ASM that just works ALLLLL the time.
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Also, more people need to be proficient on the forklift. I'm sick of excuses. "I can't go do this because..." Basically because...of fear.  I've put it in Amber K's ear to put Shitty Amber on shaving refill duty...yet another thing I have to do if no one else deigns to.  Amber K asked me if I'm sure..because Shitty Amber keeps dumping the shavings.  I just laughed and said..."well, if she dumps them often enough she'll learn to be more careful and to NOT dump them...just quit helping her pick them up."  I think I shall next put her on salt pallet refills.  Shouldn't be able to dump those, but I could be surprised.

I'm trying to teach Jen to be more proficient but it is slow going as her reaction time is slower than most and I think she may have depth perception issues.  I make her take the empty pallets out...and stack them in the stacks...I have recently helped her put things in the racking and take things down from the racking....that's a risky proposition...and she needs lots of coaching...if I had more time, she'd do it ten times a day until she didn't need my help.

Crystal is trying, and, on her own...which I'd rather. I'm not the boss.  Sometimes I feel like I am...only because I am more take charge than the boss...or so I think.  Fear, yet again...just need to get her loading/unloading semis...tried to get her to do the pallet truck since there is absolutely NOTHING she could break...but she was scared and Jason was available because I was uber busy...so I didn't force the issue. 

I was thrown to the wolves and made to do a feed truck (very easy) and my first truck on my own was a DC (quite difficult) and soon followed Tartar Gate (challenging) and Carry On Trailer (extremely difficult and I am still not very comfortable with that one).

Most everyone in that store has a forklift certification....now, why are they "certified" and yet somehow incapable of doing the simplest tasks?  Just make them.  That's how I learned. By doing.  Granted, I've had tons more practice...but practice is awesome. Fork some bags, tap some things, knock some shit down...pretty soon to get out of doing more work, the carefulness creeps in.

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I think we are going to be starting some more new hires.  I'm kind of scared because ASM interviewed them and she tends to really like older and female...which is fine...but these older females need to be able to toss some 50 pound bags repeatedly and hopefully have some mad life skills like knowing what a trailer coupler is and that there is a difference between a category 1 hitch and a category 3...things we are sadly lacking at the moment and I am tired of helping out on the floor because no one wants to learn or is afraid to stretch themselves by trying. 

I learned a hell of a lot about tires by stocking hundreds of them...tires and tire chains...and stupid customers with stupid questions...I don't think any female should be immune...and we have tons of females at the store who are quite capable but don't want to go out of their comfort zones of clothing, dog, cat, and horse.

I still think a couple youngish...30s 40s males would be excellent for bag tossing, life skills and dealing with all those assholes who still don't believe that women may possibly know what a solenoid is or does.  I hate dealing with those idiots.

Also, all the people that are currently register jockeys want off the register (always)  and almost all of them have physical limitations...and we need a feed tosser/forklift operator present ALL SHIFTS.  I just don't think they understand what they are asking for. Nothing against any of them.  It's a brutal job. BRUTAL. I have huge purple bruises just from today that I have no idea how I got. 

Shifts are as follows:

AM:  Manager (does price changes, customer service, phones, load outs)
        Receiver (does phones, load outs, inventory, trucks, side lot, backroom, feeds,                                                 mostly not dealing with the public)
        Cashier  (money, phones, customer service, ect.)

Mid: (We don't always get a mid...covers lunches, backs up the cashier, does customer service,  
         load outs, helps fill feeds, do special orders, ect...hopefully a jack of all trades)

PM:  Manager (special orders, customer service, phones, load outs)
        Cashier   ( money, phones, customer service, ect)
        Feed Thrower  (fills feeds and rotates feeds, can take an entire 6 hour shift, load outs)

And that is it. It's a tight crew. Someone doesn't pull their weight or its exceptionally busy...someone else gets hosed.  I know I could use a 50 hour work week instead of a 40...JUST TO STAY CAUGHT UP COMFORTABLY...however; there is no caught up comfortably...and its just a rolling bit of madness from one day to the next.