Kali Morgan - Off the record

Obituary for Hoochie Minh (pics soon)

2010-04-24T09:33:00.001-07:00

It’s been a year since she has been gone. My porcine child finally left me just months short of her 18^th birthday, and she will be forever missed.

I was living in the east park in 1991. I was studying film-making at Community College and was working in a bar on the weekends. In order to film a version of Alice in Wonderland, which involved a scene where a baby turning into a pig, I endeavored to find an actor for my movie.

I had seen ads in the back of the daily paper advertising miniature pigs for sale, so I contacted several of the advertisers to find out care and feeding information and cost. As it turned out, the price for a pet potbelly dropped drastically outside of the city. I drove with my ex- to Morgantown, PA to buy my pig for $125 which is the only animal I have ever personally purchased (when I was a kid, my folks bought a dog for me once, but after that we always just found stray animals).

My pig shopping experience was not what I expected--a frighteningly large sow greeted me. Prior that time, I had envisioned miniature pigs to be about the size of a large housecat or small dog, but mama pig was the size of a (smallish) sheep and I was taken aback. There were two litters to choose from and I chose the smallest pig in the elder litter and named her Hoochie Minh, in part because she walked on her tiptoes as if she were wearing high heels, and in part because Ho Chi Minh was the only Vietnamese name I knew, and she was a Vietnamese Potbelly Pig according to her birth certificate. But although she was the smallest in the litter, she was already larger than I had envisioned a miniature pig to be. I was thinking standard poodle vs. miniature and maybe compared to a 1,000 lb farm sow, she was miniature but not compared to the farm hogs I knew as a child.

Hoochie Minh stayed in the living room at first where she squealed and grunted from her hand-me-down playpen (inherited from my oldest niece) whenever she wanted attention. Later, she had run of the five bedroom house and the small brick patio in the rear of that house. Toilet training was moderately simple but also only moderately successful: pigs naturally pick a place to go and return there, but they carry a lot of fluid and we had a very difficult time containing her overflow which resulted in many housekeeping challenges as we moved her from room to room. At night, she slept with me on my futon mattress (which was on the floor) sometimes with my toddler niece (when she stayed over).

I read somewhere that a pig in heat is a destructive force of nature, so I arranged to get Hooch fixed. A friend drove her to the Women’s SPCA for me (which was located in the city at that time) where she was spayed. I picked her up the next day and she was happily munching on an apple.

My housemate welcomed her home with a sampling of ribs, which gave her a thrill that my girl was not adverse to cannibalism (if she were offered a chunk of marinated human meat what would happen?).

I learned that potbellied pigs were true earth critters. In fact over 17 years of observing her habits and proclivities I watched them evolve and change to some degree, but one thing that was constant: my Hoochie Minh liked to have all four feet on the ground at all time.

I learned about her aversion to being picked up (and also to jumping especially in a downward direction) when we began traveling together. Hoochie moved with me when I moved on to West Philly in 1992 and promptly made her way to the third floor of the house. She had to be prodded down the steps more than once, often falling on her front knees at the bottom landing of each stair case. Other times she would stand, in suspended animation at the top of a landing and squeal, refusing to move when coaxed or prodded from either direction. On one such occasion, a housemate tried to prod her and she peed on the landing without moving any of her four hooves. In that house, which I shared with up to seven other people, she spent a lot of time in the yard. We collected and cooked food each week for Food Not Bombs so Hoochie had the pick of any vegetable matter she could possibly want, and she became more picky about what she deemed edible. Cabbage of any kind (including broccoli, bok choi and kale) were out. Potatoes and tomatoes were acceptable. Bread was best of all.

I boarded her at a pig farm in Bucks County for a week one summer so I could vacation with friends in New England where we discovered a pig toy made of pvc tubing with pig chow inside that Hooch could shake food from by butting her head underneath of it. A friend built one for us and she was a happy piggie.

She traveled with me to the Rainbow Gatherings in Alabama in and she more or less managed to adjust to traveling by car. She was terrified of jumping into the back of my station wagon at first, but we got her on board and I sat with her in the back to calm her as she took off. She peed all over me, but once she had done that she was fine for the rest of the trip (I had to suffer the inconvenience of changing my clothes and cleaning up at the first stop along the way). At the gathering, she walked on a leash and actually learned to walk through water (which she hated prior to that time) and to jump over logs. A child at that gathering commented, “she walks like a fancy lady” which was true, though when she had just hopped over a log which is something a fancy lady might have deemed unladylike. As we were leaving that gathering in the humid summer heat, Hoochie found a mud puddle and layed in the middle to sun herself. We walked around her and loaded our camping gear into the car until we were ready to go, and I again traveled in the back with Hooch, this time covered in mud, which was an improvement over pee. That was the one and only time I ever knew Hoochie to wallow in mud.

I would have thought that our camping adventure would have mellowed her fear of jumping into a car or of being leashed, but just weeks after our Alabama camping trip I got married and Hoochie was my maid of honor. She was fine getting harnessed that morning and with driving to my parent’s northeast Philly home, but she wanted no parts of climbing into my dad’s car. She dropped pellets all over his back seat as I (in my wedding gown) tried to prod her into the car without soiling my dress. But she was a picturesque member of my bridal party and the best photo I have of her was taken by my aunt at my wedding.

Soon after my wedding, I moved into a small apartment with my husband. Some of the props I had collected for the purpose of making my movie had gotten destroyed in that move, so it was decided that Hoochie would never be the movie star I had planned for her to be (and honestly I would have had to pair her with a toddler the day I adopted her in order for my original film vision to have worked). I “boarded” her out to a friend but within weeks, they received a citation from the City of Philadelphia stating that farm animals were illegal to keep within the city limits and ordering me to have her destroyed at a shelter or taken to a slaughterhouse. I would never do such a thing to a child of mine, so the search began in earnest to find an alternate “daycare” arrangement for Hooch so that she could stay outdoors during the day and then return home in the evenings to the indoors where the city’s inspection department couldn’t find her. A neighbor saw my sign in the food coop and bartered some yard work for boarding, but his neighbor talke him out of the deal. Hoochie stayed indoors with my friend for more than a month, using a handmade litter box lined with newspaper as a toilet. She moved briefly into a Kensignton warehouse with little access to the outdoors for the summer, then ended up with a friend in northeast Philadelphia where she escaped from the yard more than once and had to be hunted down. In each of these instances, I was able to visit often, bring treats and hang out with her regularly.

She traveled with me to the Wyoming Rainbow Gathering along with myself and five friends. While there she unearthed more than once secret chocolate stash that campers had stowed in their tents. She went on herb walks with me and basically was my personal companion there. She wriggled free of her tether for a number of hours one day but found me at faerie camp when a fire had broken out and the hubbub of hundreds of people passing buckets of water up the mountain scared her away from whatever foraging she had been doing.

When I moved to Germantown with my husband she moved back in with me, though she was no longer permitted to sleep in our bed. She spent her days in the yard and her nights in the kitchen and seemed to quite enjoy herself for the few months htat we lived there.

Soonafter, we won an HUD housing auction bid and bought a house with no fence down the street. Once. Our newly purchased property (where I still reside) is directly across the street from what was an institution for mentally ill persons, and Hoochie attracted a lot of attention. We leashed her to a screw in post in the middle of the yard during the day and brought her into the room that would become our kitchen at night. The residents of the home across the street fell in love with Hoochie, and brought her “treats” from marshmallows, to popcorn, to orange soda to raisins on a regular basis. The treat-giving backfired, though because she saw them in the gardens across the street and found ways to break free and get to where the goodies were. Usually I would find out because somebody would knock on the door to let me know that she got out but one day I left the house and walked the neighborhood for over an hour before I found her digging through a compost heap in a garden two blocks from home (and just doors away from the “Rib Crib” ironically).Again, my piggle was placed in the yard of a family while we tried to create a yard in our new house.

Once we fenced in our yard in 1996, a friend built us a pen for Hooch. My husband and I separated in 1997 and later divorced, but Hooch kept me company, with her prickly bristles (with extra soft spots on top of her snoot and behind her ears). I invited housemates into my house and everyone fell in love with Hoochie. When friends visited they would bring Brahmi oil and Skin-so-soft for her dry skin. When we adopted our first dog in 1997, her pen became her refuge day and night during the summer months and daytimes during the winter (unless it snowed, which kept her inside). Once we took in a second and third dog, Hoochie only made it out of the yard for special occasions.

Mount Airy Day in May was an annual event about two blocks from our house where Hoochie made an regular appearance. She was featured in the local paper more than once as the most colorful guest of the day, gobbling up the carnival fare that fell to the ground. Her last Mount Airy Day was in 2008, and she did have some trouble making the trip. She was fatigued and had to make repeat stops on the way home, but besides that day she seemed her chipper self.

When I first moved to Germantown, I took Hooch to a vet that was recommended by the vet she used to see in west Philly. He recommended a swine supplement for her and explained to us how to clip her nails because he didn’t want to do it himself. So we had pretty much stopped taking her to the vet after about 1997.

In 2009 her hooves had grown long so have been allowed to, so my housemates and I drove her to the University of Pennsylvania veterinary/equine clinic in a remote suburb for a checkup and grooming. When I picked her up from the vet later she wasn’t walking on her front right hoof, which was bleeding slightly. The vet-tech told me that it is normal for them to bleed if they are not regularly clipped because the quick in their hoof grows out. I took her back to the car and had to pick her up to get her in the car. The paperwork from the vet noted that the “pig is lame.” I was incensed because she wasn’t lame when I took her there (although it took some prodding and a few pellets of pooping, she managed to jump into the car and ride with me). When I called the vet to question this, the vet claimed that she saw her after the hoof clipping and that the vet informed her that Hoochie wasn’t walking from the moment she arrived, which simply wasn’t true. The vet also told me that Hoochie was the healthiest 17 year old pig that she had ever examined. I blamed myself for her injury- I never figured out how to get her clipped (she always threw a tantrum whenever I came anywhere near her feet), and I hoped that her foot would heal and we made 2 payments to pay of the more than $300 we were charged for the grooming and checkup, by far the most expensive of Hoochie’s medical bills.

Hoochie’s foot continued to bleed occasionally in the following weeks. A year later and I believe there are still a few bloodstains where she climbed up and down our front stairs to get in and out of the house. Otherwise, though, she seemed like a mellow and happy older fancy pig-lady.

I was working at a convention in Atlanta, Georgia on Easter weekend, when my housemate called me in a panic. Hoochie wasn’t moving, and nothing he could do to get her to move. She still took food, which I thought was a good sign and because it was good Friday, our other roommate was home and they drove her to Swedesbory Animal Hospital, where we had taken our dogs (about an hour away from our home in New Jersey). During this vet appointment, Hoochie was prescribed some antibiotics which she reportedly ate and which reportedly helped as she moved around a bit with help from her guardians (and which notably cost us considerably less than her visit to the U of P vet).

When I arrived home on Easter Monday last year, our entire household took Hooch back to the New Jersey vet. They had called over the weekend because Hoochie’s blood that they had drawn the previous Friday showed signs of liver damage. Hoochie wasn’t moving that morning until I came to her with a rope to harness her. She struggled to try to escape me but fell to the ground. Finally, I lured her with food to the middle of a wool blanket I had spread out on the porch, where she plopped down, allowing us to carry her as if the blanket were a stretcher.

We dropped her off to the vet for an MRI and went home hoping for the best. The next day, I got a call that her liver was irreparably damaged, possibly due to an infection but they couldn’t tell me. I asked the vet what I should do and was informed that there wasn’t much that could be done—I could have chosen to let her stay crippled at until her liver finally gave out or I could have chosen to put her down. When I asked the vet what she would do, there was no hesitation when she told me that she would put her down, which I agreed to, as long as we were permitted to drive up and say goodbye.

We all piled into the car to see Hoochie that last day with some grapes and snacks. She was in a stall not moving but when I came into meet her she stood up on all fours. I wasn’t sure how to interpret her movements and part of me thought she was telling me she wanted to go home and that she would be okay. So I checked with the vet once again who assured me that she essentially didn’t have a functioning liver and restated her belief that euthanasia was the compassionate alternative.

I allowed it to happen, and she is gone. This past year hasn’t been the same. For almost 18 years she composted most of our vegetable matter, cleaned up the acorns in our yard, and greeted us every time we opened the gate. The animal hospital provided us with a hoofprint and her ashes, which sit next to our great dane’s ashes in our dining room, perhaps until I have the heart to pour them all out in the yard where they both once played.

It has taken me a year to write this tribute to her life, and I could have put it off for another, which wouldn’t have been fair. So many people knew and loved her besides me and my immediate household that I feel compelled to testify to her life and times.

Rest in piece Hoochie Minh

Accidental overdose of joy- RIP True Blue

2010-02-05T20:12:00.000-08:00

I've been running around like a mad person. Working my ass off and making little progress and juggling things like bills, appointments, debts and tasks and miraculously, people have appeared to take me through the tough times, even as I have attempted to extend my hand to help those close to me through trials.

Tonight while running family errands with my partner, my niece called me in a panic. At first I thought she was telling me that one of the people in her house was hurt, but eventually I made out through her tears that the family dog had injured himself and that she thought that his neck was broken

I told her I was on my way and we detoured in her direction, which was what I have been doing all week anyway... starting on some routine task and detouring toward big fires that need fighting to control. I called the 24 hour vet hospitals to make sure they were open as tonight's blizzard was just beginning in our neighborhood and I called my niece back to tell her to find a board or a door to lay the dog on so his neck could be stabilized. She told me that my mom and sister were at home giving trying to give the dog CPR (they are both registered nurses) and I told her to try to find a board for them to lay him on once the CPR worked so we could move him as soon as I could drive there in the snow.

A minute or so later I got a call back from her asking where the veterinary hospital was, and I told her we would take him to UPenn which is across town. I was very close to her house I assured her and told her to still try to find a board to stabilize him. As we pulled in front of their house, I saw my sister's husband and her trying to load a blanket into his car. I guessed that he beat me to their house and got out of the car to find out what was up. My sister was crying hysterically and saying that we had to hurry because he had stopped breathing. I halted the proceedings at that point, saying that if he wasn't breathing there was no point in trying to drive him to a doctor across town, and that they should take him back into the living room to say goodbye.

In wondering what went wrong that a dog my mother was napping with an hour earlier suddenly was zipped into a sleeping bag dead on their floor I learned that he was joyfully excited that my sister was going to take him out for a walk and was dancing around the living room and dining room of their house where he slid across their laminated floor and hit his head on their fishtank , which caused him to fall to the floor and howl in pain for a good few minutes until he lost conciousness. So his last three or four minutes of life was spent in agonizing pain that the all family members in the house (I am still not clear on when my sister's hubby arrived on the scene) heard and witnessed.

But prior to those tragic final moments, he was filled with joy and anticipation of pleasurable time to be spent with those he loved. And if one is to have a tragic accident, is it not better to have it with loved ones present and trying to save you than to die alone with nobody to hear or care for you.

And, life being fragile as it is, it could happen to any of us, at any time. A freak accident and you, or somebody you love is gone. As we gathered around the cadaver of one of the world's most lovable dogs, there was crying, remembering, reliving those last frantic moments, my mother reading a Hebrew prayer.

At one point, my sister asked my niece to text her sister to tell her they would be late to pick her up from work. We offered to drive over to pick up the younger niece and offered to take the older niece with us as she was hyperventillating at this point and clearly needed some air and a change of scenery.

My younger niece works at McDonald's and took some time to finish up working. Her sister stood outside and cried a little which caused concern from an elderly patron. When the younger sibling got the news, she started to cry too.

My elder niece had started to bake brownie's for a friend's birthday when the accident happened. She was still distraught and I suggested that we stop somewhere and buy baked goods for her friends party and maybe some comforting food for the rest of the family. We got chocolates, strawberries and flowers for the family and cupcakes for her birthday friend.

When we got back to the house Blue (the dog) was still tucked into the sleeping bag, which was unzipped enough to show his head and his favorite toy that was lovingly placed beside him. My oldest niece left in the snowstorm to bring cupcakes to her friend (that's all the baked goods the supermarket had left in the snow) and I made sure that the family agreed to keep this news from my father until he gets home safely from his factory job that ends at midnight (I am waiting for his call right now) before we slid home in our car.

After only an hour or so of snow, the ride home was pretty rough, so I texted a plea to my eldest niece to stay at her friends tonight. As soon as I hear from my dad, I will hopefully, finally be able to rest in piece with the spirit of Blue tonight.

I have yet to write an obitituary for my own Hoochie Minh who died last April, but I owe it to her to remember her even as I decompress from the family tragedy of tonight.

Other than this things have been tough for my partner, but better for me with the recent appearance of some angelic guardians and guest stars in my professional drama.

Here's hoping that we all find rest, relaxation and love sooner rather than later.

Kiss alive at 35

2009-10-15T06:56:00.000-07:00

On a more pleasant note, my roommate got 2 free tix to see Kiss last Tuesday. The tickets were free, and I must admit a certain amount of curiosity regarding the band that decorated baseball jerseys in my Philly neighborhood in 2nd grade. The music didn't fit in with what my religious family deemed "tasteful" or "edifying" but I did learn to enjoy some Kiss songs while working in bars as an adult.
I actually enjoyed the show, although most of the audience missed the best part which was definitely the footwear (and the fact that the men wearing that insane footwear were doing some amazing footwork). We lucked out and had a broken binocular box behind our seat and were able to get our voyeur on with the binoculars. Amazing.

Unfortunately the camera crew at the FU center were too busy focusing on their wrinkled faces - which still were painted as perfectly as they could have been painted but which paled in comparisons to the youthful moves these guys were rocking.

If you see this show in another city, definitely don't leave before the encore, which was the most intense medley of classic hits and physical feats of the whole show and lasted well over a half hour.

The consulting aftermath/ fallout

2009-10-15T06:46:00.000-07:00

So the two guys from George S. May seemed to come from an accounting background, and after combing through reports and numbers with them, they made several logical (and one unwelcome) recommendation.

They provided me with a binder filled with plans that make sense for the most part, and when I went over some of the items with my staff, they informed me that the analyst had discussed some of the items with them (I wish she had discussed/ summarized these items with me, and I feel a bit jipped, but what can be done now).

They also furnished me with a weekly payment plan to pay the $6,000 bill that I had no idea a week prior that I would incur, so now there is an additional struggle to pay for that.

I was surprised to learn that I had actually lost 8,000 last year on vending at conventions which I had been doing (in my mind) to pay the bills on my two stores. So it is definitely time to take more weekends off and to stop forcing myself to work at shows with no payoff.

They recommended that I re-condense my stores immediately, which would save over a hundred grand, and would make my life easier, but I am having a hard time admitting that I have wasted thousands of dollars and months of efforts in splitting my brands. This may still happen, but I feel a personal need to try to put in place things I haven't had but have been working on (such as two functional websites).

They recommended cutting staff costs and any other possible expense in order to alleviate a projected loss of 50,000 by the end of this year.

I called an emergency meeting of my staff to discuss these items and they were cool with it for the most part. I told them that if we can make 50,000 profit during October and November (our two busiest months) that 10% of that would be split between them based on 10 performance items per person/share (a recommendation the analyst made the first day we met).

The consultant team recommended implementation of a strategic inventory plan to eliminate the insane problems we have had in keeping key merchandise in stock and in holding on to unproductive merchandise. I haven't stopped working on that since we met at the beginning of the month.

Buying, selling, and management procedures all have to change and I have to find other business people with whom to meet on a regular (maybe monthly) basis to chat about managing my business (since I don't have a board of directors and I cannot afford expensive consultants).

Anybody out there want to do lunch? My treat?

Consulting confusion continues

2009-10-04T17:26:00.000-07:00

Yesterday was the day day I was to meet with my consultant, all by myself and without my analyst at 9am.

At 9:15 I was about to let out a big sigh of relief because I thought maybe my $255 an hour consultant had canceled. I had emailed my analyst right after I posted my first blog and I was still in a panic about having potentially been hoodwinked into a 40,000 project with only $800 in my bank account. I asked for her reassurance that this wasn't some sort of scam, but I haven't heard back to my knowledge (I never did check the store's email today, and part of me hopes that I do hear back from her because I actually liked her).

But alas, it was just a few minutes later that two men walked into my store and introduced themselves as my consultation team. My panic doubled at that moment as now the bill will be $510 per hour. I thought from my conversations with the May representatives on the phone that I could fire, or at least lay-off my consultant after a 2,000 day and once I had ascertained that I had actually gotten 2 grand in value from the experience I could have them come back periodically until the entire astronomical project was completed, if that is what it would actually take to save my business. I had read on the George May website case studies that another retailer they worked with saw them quarterly. But now it will be twice that.

My first hour of consulting consisted of me voicing my concerns to these two businessmen and them reassuring me that their services would not put me out of business. One of them had worked on a multi-store retail company turnaround project that proved successful (thank heavens) and they told me that much of what is written online can be lies (which is true, but in the case of the Better Business Bureau there is investigation involved). I also took time to help them find parking that would not result in a traffic ticket for them.

Funny thing is, sometimes when I am totally stressed I feel that money is being drained from my veins almost when I am paying for anything by the hour even with my $8 hourly employees. But this time it was multiplied by a thousand in my mind and I felt like I was going to just pass out.

To add another element, a rodent had crawled into a deep dark recess of my basement warehouse/office and died. I smelled it on Thursday and didn't take time to hunt it down because I was signing paperwork with my analyst and also trying to get a days work done since as of Monday I had no idea that I would actually have analysts and consultants in my building this week. By Saturday, it stank to high heavens and I did search the area around my desk where I thought the stench was coming from during the many moments that my consulting team needed "private time" to consult with each other.

To the credit of my consulting team, they worked in my stanky basement for more than the 10 hours I was obligated to pay them for. And neither one of them complained about the smell which my staff in the store above could detect and were scrambling up and down the steps to mask with incense and scented sprays.

I filled out paper worksheets for them (as I had done for my analyst, who didn't leave a copy of the ones I had done with her), discussed what I wanted to do , explained how ordering was done, basic operational information but lots of focus on merchandise. I printed company financial statements, inventory department lists (and I discovered, abysmally that our inventory is once again way off from actual counts, a problem that has consistently haunted us since we began using Intuit's Quickbooks Point of Sale but which I thought I had corrected three weeks ago after several frustrating tech support calls).

I printed sales reports by department for every month for the past twelve, profit and loss reports by year, quarter and month and eventually began exporting these reports into spreadsheets that I saved onto a thumb drive so I could more efficiently allow my consultants to crunch numbers.

I wanted to leave for a few hours as I stayed at the store late on Friday night, and was hosting a store-sponsored party that night, but I couldn't find my keys. Had I known I would be struggling to get my money's worth from such an expensive endeavor when I scheduled this particular party I would not have scheduled anything else. I haven't really recovered from my three consecutive trade shows from the past month and I have been fighting a cold. So I stayed in the store while my consultants asked for more private consultation time. My friend who has been helping in my store bought me some tea to get me through the night.

They asked for an online bank statement, but my password had recently been auto-disabled because I typed the wrong one in too many times, but eventually I got it and when they saw the negative available balance in my account they asked me to print the screen so they could fax it to May headquarters.

I told my consultants that I would check in with them at 6:30 as they told me that May required a 10 hour workday and they arrived shortly after 9, but because I was in the building anyway (and I needed to get prepped for my party), I went down to try and wrap up with them at 6ish.

They gave me an organizational chart that mapped my cash streams with my inventory and operations and explained three areas I need to work on immediately.

I informed them that I was terminating their services, but not because they had done anything wrong. They understood, and further assured me that they would wrap up the numbers crunching and provide me with a chart and invoice on Monday.

That was it. Until I get the invoice tomorrow anyway. I didn't feel the affinity for these two consultants that I felt for my assigned intake analyst, but I do trust that at the minumum they will provide me with a written version of some solid business advice.

I will see if it is worth the price.

The thing that really bothers me is not any individual experience I had with any staff person working on my project. The bait and switch is what bothers me.

Last week, I was planning on hiring a consultant anyway because I really am at my wits end. But I was planning on hiring Mercedes Gonzalez a retail-specific consultant from New York (not the far reaches of the US) and had resigned myself to the fact that it was going to be at least 5,000 based on an actual price list that was provided to me at theWWD Magic show in Las Vegas when I attended an extraordinarily helpful seminar she conducted. 40,000 was far more than I ever anticipated, but the lure of a "no obligation" $350 3-day analysis sucked me into a much larger debt than I ever imagined.

My three day analysis was only 1.5 days and although I learned when I met my analyst I wasn't getting any written reports (which I didn't recall any mention of when I signed on) I expected a wrap up meeting where my strengths weaknesses and opportunities for improvements would be addressed in some sort of organized fashion. Mind you, my analyst did discuss some of this with me, but in total we probably talked less than 3 hours total, most of which occurred during the first half of her full day of observation. On the final day, only cursory mention was made of issues involving "personnel " "miscommunication."

When I signed up for the initial analysis on Wednesday, I was handed a sheet that listed many facets of business operations and profitability that instructed me to circle items of concern to me. I did circle several items and handed this to my analyst during the first hour I met with her on Thursday. I thought that we would at least summarize/ discuss these items in detail before moving on to the next step of assigning a consultant to me. But as it turned out, we never had that conversation because we had the 40,000 dollar phone call where I discovered that the time estimated for my project was 150 hours and I did the math and practically freaked out with the "verification staff" on the phone. "Trust me on this," was virtually the last thing my analyst said to me before she was suddenly called away to another city and departed without warning. I had invited her to our store party on Saturday when we talked on Thursday, and she said that she would go if she were still in town, but that she didn't know when her flight was booked. Did she know and lie to me? She didn't seem like a liar. Did she panic because I panicked and run away from the issue?

By the time she asked me how far my store is from the airport on Friday, it was too late to even ask for a verbal summary- she had to run and catch a plane. It was also too late to renege on this consultant thing that I learned was to start tomorrow but because I had already agreed on the phone (not knowing that it was starting immediately or that my analyst was departing) I felt trapped and I still do to some degree- I somehow didn't notice that I am responsible not only for $255 per person for hour for 10 hours but also for travel and lodging. It has just been one unpleasant panic-inducing discovery after another. When I asked my analyst (after the phone call) why I don't even get a three day grace period like people who sign a mortgage, she said that I was overreacting and that there wasn't any need because May International "won't let you die on the operating table."

I am not so sure of the outcome of this. The surgery is done, but I am not sure the condition is resolved or to what degree it may resolve itself in the recovery room, and the bill might just kill me.

Maybe the two individuals who worked with me yesterday will make good on this experience and provide me with something valuable that will make the investment worth it.They certainly seemed to know what they were doing w hopefully in the end I will know and appreciate what they were doing for me.

I am hopeful that I will have a treatment plan that will work come morning. But I am still scared to death of tomorrow's invoicing.

George A. May business consulting?

2009-10-02T17:00:00.000-07:00

Last weekend , I had a conversation about my dreams for my 13 year old business: That it will grow up and become independently operable without my constant struggle and supervision. I remembered meeting a consultant who I really liked at a trade show a few weeks back, and resolved to give her a call.

Coincidentally, I got a call on Tuesday morning from a George S. May International sales person who was scheduling meetings in my area to introduce their consulting firm and its services. Since I hadn't gotten around to calling the aforementioned consultant yet, I agreed to talk to their people on Wednesday morning, and I was told was a three day introductory business analysis that only cost $350 where a professional analyst would come in, spend time in my business and go over a plan for an ongoing consulting relationship with their firm. I know from having hired consultants in the past that $350 is a bargain for even a day's work, and since I had resolved to hire a consultant anyway, I signed up, not realizing that the company was flying somebody in the following morning. Overall though, it seemed like pretty low risk.

I really have no desire to wait on fixing my inefficiently-run small business (I love it but it is killing me and I very likely am killing it). I imagined that three days in my business would give somebody with fresh eyes a sense of what is working and what is not.

When I got a call from my analyst the next morning while slagging through traffic, I was pretty excited. I was even more excited when I met her, a stylish, smart and friendly woman with a southern accent from Tennessee.

Our meeting started with a brief sales schpeil, which I was fine with and she asked me to sign an "intelligent agreement" saying that I would hire the company at $255 per hour if I found her analisys helpful. Again, this seemed reasonable to me as I have used consultants in the past and have gotten my moneys worth from just a few hours. She then informed me that there would be no written reports that resulted from her initial analysis, but that she would go over her observations with ma and if I hired the firm's managerial team they would provide a detailed written report. Having worked with public organizations, I know this stuff costs money and I have hired expensive consultants in the past, with mixed success.

She spoke with me about my business, sat through our morning shift meeting, spoke with my bookkeeper, asked me to write out 8 goals I had for my business and actions I had taken toward those goals (of course I provided more than she asked for). She briefly went over the differences between budgeting on dollar amounts vs. percentages with my two senior staff. I asked a departing employee if she would tell-all and she agreed to chat with her as well. My analyst spent time with and spoke to every person on staff yesterday and scheduled a meeting with me for 10 this morning.

This morning, our conversation was brief as I prepared for today's shift meeting. She attended the shift meeting with me and walked me back to my basement office.

My analyst told me that she had stayed til 10PM (closing time for us) the night prior and spoke with a staff member who is leaving after this week. The only insight shared this mornign was that I have "personnel issues" and that all the miscommunications that happen in my business will put me under (I could have told her that, but remained silent). She recommended that I fire my new hire today (which I did later on) and sat down to work on paperwork.

Within a few minutes, she needed to have me speak to the person at her office for authorization that I would go with the May managerial consulting plan, and further informed me that those billable hours would begin tomorrow. I thought the initial plan was for a three day analysis- she had met only half of my sales staff I started to have misgivings a bit, but I thought that if this likable, experienced woman wanted to get started sooner rather than later, why not? Like I said, I have gotten my money's worth from most consultants I have hired if even for a few hours. What I didn't learn until she got on the phone to record my voice was that the estimated hours needed for this project were 150 hours (I added it on my calculator while she reported to her team on the phone in some sort of code involving case numbers and staff numbers) which would total some $40,000.00 in estimated hours for them to take over and create a working operations and management plan.

I do understand that 40,000 dollars is not a lot of money if through implementation of their plan I could save that much and make more profit. But I wish she had warned me about the estimated cost, which for some reason she didn't. I assented to the start date of tomorrow over the phone even though I told the man (on tape somewhere) that I wasn't aware prior of the estimated hours. During this conversation (maybe because I had raging PMS) it was all I could do not to burst into tears, but I stopped myself and carried on as she assured me that I needed to "trust her."

I collected myself and assumed up until this point that she would continue to observe and work with today's sales staff, and that she would be here when I meet the new consulting person tomorrow, but by 1PM she informed me that she had to go to the airport and catch a flight to Atlanta.

I feel absolutely abandoned and while I do believe this woman's time was worthwhile, I have a sinking feeling in my gut about just signing away up to 40,000 in services on the advice of somebody who didn't only gave me one solid piece of business advice: Think of budget as percentages of sales not finite numbers, and grow a pair and be stricter in enforcing policy or find someone who can.

Since she left this afternoon, I have been working as usual, but find myself with some extra time because I have a meeting for the Diabolique Ball this evening, and my co-producers are late, as is often the case. So I just checked online with the Better Business Bureau about the George S. May International consulting company, who has received a grade of C- for high pressure sales and mediocre business advice. But I signed on for tomorrow at least, so I am trapped and I don't even have the reassuring twang of my analyst's voice to comfort me. And apparently my analyst found a $4,000 credit card I didn't know I had, so I can pay tomorrow's coupla grand over time.

Now I really want to burst into tears. But what good would that do?

More soon.

Isn't this just great?

2009-10-01T18:10:00.000-07:00

As if it wasn't bad enough that the government is selling healthcare reform up the river once again, that the public option is more or less a joke at this point and a single payer option is not a serious possiblity, now the right wing has attached 50 million bucks in abstinence only sex "education" funding. I could think of 50 million better ways to spend 50 million dollars except that I am too dang busy working myself to the bone to make ends meet and to keep my 10 underpaid, uninsured employees on the payroll.

If this idea ticks you off the way it really ticks me off, maybe you will take a moment to tell your respective U.S. Senators how you feel. I received this call to action today:

Ask your Senators to strip the Hatch Amendment from Health Care Reform. Don't let 12 Senators undermine sex education in the United States!

With the passage of the Hatch Amendment, it is more important than ever that we send a clear message to the United States Senate:

Abstinence-only-until-marriage programs were a dangerous experiment, teaching ignorance instead of education. Their time is finally past - and together, we will end these harmful programs.

And while you are at it, it might do you well to remind our Senators and Congress members that small business can't afford to float health-care reform (in spite of Wal-Mart's sudden support of the idea), that anything less than a single-payer option is really no option at all, and that until the Hippocratic oath is accessible to all residents of this country, we are seriously falling short of the nation's stated mission of a society of the people, by the people and for the people.

Sifting through the ashes of Venus.

2009-09-27T17:16:00.000-07:00

When I was a teenager I changed the pronouns in the hymns we sang in church each Sunday so that I could refer to god as "she". I felt that there was a lot of misogyny in my family, church and life and it was what I needed not to freak out in the middle of the conservative church my parents forced me to attend.

Nonetheless, I shuddered last year when I found myself singing the words to an old hymn my family sang in church, but substituting the name of the starring deity. That happened during the ritual at last year's Fires of Venus, a pagan sexuality event where I sold kilts, corsets and sexuality products at a great campground in Maryland. But the shudder was momentary, and possibly exhilarating and before long I was singing my heart out.

FOV 2009 was as incredible as last year, but different. More structured. More intense. More powerful, at least so far as the ritual energy raised each and every night for three consecutive nights, thanks to the tireless efforts of event staff, volunteers and organizers who created an incredible infrastructure for attendees to work on individual magick.

Repeat visits to temple priestesses and priests, dancing around the fire, putting sacrifices into the cauldron, performing an extended ritual flogging, watching the Goddess brightly in spite of rain to singing, dancing and connecting with lighted candles indoors all filled me with a level of energy I haven't possessed of late. Reminded me of the gratitude I feel for the people in my home and life. Assured me that I have already succeeded in manifesting my dreams. Allowed me moments of possession around the fire. Exhausted me. I experienced many joyful and personally painful moments in the circles catharsis was mine if not connection to others. But I felt just great on my own in the circle.

This morning was difficult in many ways. All that dancing, poi practice, and flogging action left me quite sore and slow as I packed up my gear from the camp store and fit most of it into my truck. The great people in my life had my back, though. Feeding me french toast in the morning, moving my stuff outside for me and even hauling the last few items back home.

I was looking forward to sharing some of the weekend's many gifts with my family, but it didn't quite happen as planned. Has Mercury gone direct yet? No major catastrophes, thanfully the people for whom I am grateful took care of issues at work and home, but again I am alone, as I was all weekend.

I still am learning the lesson whispered to me by the priestess of secrets: Learn to love myself, and I will never be alone.

I have myself and I to keep me company. And my dogs. And the candle from Saturday night's ritual reminding me that another weekend is planned for Beltane.

Why do I love dandelions?

2009-08-26T15:55:00.000-07:00

When I die, I want my friends to blow dandelion fluff into my ashes. I would like my ashes, thusly mixed to be scattered around a few of my favorite places as well as a few of my not-so favorite places. This will is still evolving and I may post here, but recent funerals got me thinking about my own arrangements and how I would like my legacy to carry on.
It is all about dandelions- those scorned but highly nutritious plants that people should be using yet instead try to annihilate.
Chem lawns and garden staff be damned, I want everyone who has ever given a damn about me, and anyone whom I have ever given a damn about to remember me witheach sprouting, unstoppable flower growing from the cracks in pavement, in the woods, on the manicured lawns of those who would wipe out my favorite plant.
And, of course, after my death, as I go to seed each season, I will welcome anyone who never knew of me to blow me.