Billable hours

I really do like boxes and baskets and luggage and back packs and bags and cases and protective cases and brief cases. I don’t know why. I do feel weird carrying a brief case around if I don’t have anything important to carry in it, I feel like the case lends the contents some dignity. Of course, my brief cases have always tended to be of the “fake aluminum looks like it’s either a set of poker chips or possibly nuclear waste” variety. Nobody is mistaking me for a man of class.

In my life, I’ve been a part of no less then four failing businesses. The first was a restaurant on the prairies, known widely for its delicious home style cooking (it closed within a year of me quitting, replaced by a subway and a ‘we proudly brew Starbucks coffee’). I worked in the dish pit and made a passive aggressive comic called “Johnny dish-pit” and the antagonist was whatever section of the staff ticked me off that day (the managers, the servers, the hostesses) and I’d take them to the ice machine. It’s really no wonder that one went out of business.

The second was a car dealership- I was the lot attendant (otherwise known as a car washer) and one month I actually managed to sell more cars then the salesmen (it went out of business shortly after I quit- there was a lot of weird stuff that went on, for example, letting the lot attendant sell cars because the sales staff couldn’t be bothered, and about a thousand other corporate violations).
The third and fourth failing businesses I was a part of were coffee shops. They went out of business because, as far as I can tell, they were kept open because investors would be wooed, give money, and then it’d dry up.

At a certain point, you start to wonder, am I the common denominator in all of these failed ventures? Nahhhhhh!