All Or Nothing

The Rearview Mirror Comes Through Again

In the interest of writing about things that, you know, are actually happening in my life right now (I know, such a novel concept!) I decided to go back and see just what, exactly, I had told y'all about the store I own.

In my memories, I had written page upon page about the intricacies of the business, the people from whom we bought the store, the total overhaul we did, the struggles, etc.  In fact, I was so sure that I had unleashed a store-related barrage of posts upon the public that I was almost loathe to do another.

Turns out I haven't written much at all.

As I was re-reading some of the entries I have written about that lovely, sanity-shredding boutique, I found one that dates back to early August of 2006.  A little over a year after we bought the place.  In fact, the bulk of my store-related posts are around the year anniversaries of starting the business, and this year I have thus far failed to mark that date. 

Consider this the celebration post.  The start of the 5th year, the 4 year anniversary, however you wanna look at it.  I've detailed the way I prefer to look at it (don't short me one brutal day of ownership; it's the START OF THE 5TH YEAR), but if you're a very close-minded and cruel type (hehe), you can say it's the 4 year anniversary.  And in honor of starting my 5th year of business, I am going to re-post some excerpts from that 2006 entry, with new commentary (of course!) in blue.

*****

There's not much I can say to concisely explain the Store Situation, but in an attempt to sum it up, I will say that it has been an Experience to out-experience all others.  It has been awful, it has been wonderful, and above all, it has been DIFFICULT.  Difficult to the point of being basically impossible; an uphill battle that we could never win; a web of deception from which we are STILL trying to extricate ourselves.  That's the wordy emotional short-descript, the logical numbers-based explanation is that the previous owners told us, our accountants, our attorneys, and the IRS that the store was grossing a certain amount per year in sales, and we bought THAT store.  You know, the one that was grossing A CERTAIN AMOUNT PER YEAR IN SALES.  Actually what we got though, was some other store completely, one that was NOT EVER grossing that certain amount per year in sales.  So we bought a dying business, one that the previous owners were trying desperately to get out from under, and when they discovered that no one wanted to BUY a dying business, decided that hey, I bet people might want to buy a thriving business!  Let's just lie! 

And it worked.  I (shockingly) don't have much to add to this - yep, that's what happened!

We are dumb.  But not really, that is one of the mindsets that got me OUT of the saddle in the first place.  That and truly believing that the store and all the misery it has caused was all MY fault, that somehow I could have known what two accountants and an attorney and the US government didn't know, that I convinced by so much arm-twisting my father and brother-in-law and his wife to participate in this business endeavor, and that now that the business is failing that it is ALL MY FAULT, EVERYTHING IS ALL MY FAULT, I HAVE CAUSED SO MUCH PAIN FOR EVERYONE AND I AM A TERRIBLE, STUPID PERSON.  Still think this, all the time, ALL THE TIME.  I don't know how to stop myself from thinking it; the nasty little thoughts sneak in when I'm unaware and pretty soon I look up and that's what I've been dragging around for months.

Isn't that an impressive amount of self-confidence?

But the facts of the matter (when I choose to recognize them and step out of my world of self-depreciating guilt) are that I never convinced anyone to participate in the business, they all saw the same numbers I did and WANTED to do it.  The fact is, I didn't go to school to be a CPA, our accountants did, and I, although I had plans to go, have not been to law school either.  But our attorneys have!  And they all believed in the business as well.  We all saw the same balance sheets, all saw the same financial statements, and all researched and believed the made-up statistics. It was a good trick.  And we all equally bought into the business, AKA the Lie-To-End-All-Lies.  Yes!  Pep-talk!

Another fact is that we have now had the store for over a year (now over 4 years), and our sales have been excellent (some years have been good, some years have been - well, 2008 was rough).  We have done better this past year than the previous owners had done in quite a few years.  Everyone told us to expect our first year to be the hardest; to expect lower sales; to give ourselves a learning curve.  But we went ahead and blew all of that out of the water, bringing in new merchandise, giving the store a major and much-needed face lift, and adding an entire GENERATION to our demographic.  We have kicked proverbial ass.  And as much as my brain, who apparently hates me, wants me to forget, even in the worst months of the worst years, we have STAYED IN BUSINESS.  When I wrote this I thought we were on our last leg, and this store either has about 600 legs or I have somehow - gasp - succeeded thus far.  Dragging and limping along, but STILL HERE.

But it isn't enough.  We started in such a hole behind such a boulder up against such a wall (of cliches, apparently) that we would have had to do better than the previous owners EVER did, by quite a large margin, to even BREAK EVEN.  What a great deal, right?  This still remains true.  We have been ensconced in a situation where we really, truly do have to do better each and every month than the previous owners ever did just to break even.  This is mainly due to a completely disproportionate loan we took out to start the store, and is a SOUL-CRUSHING reality that I have been dealing with for over 4 years now.

So back to the Last Hurrah, the one I had last week in Los Angeles.  Basically, unless something miraculous happens (i.e., the legal system actually WORKING) (or, now, people actually spending money - lots of it - in the middle of one of the hottest summers we've had in years and all my lenders deciding to conveniently forget that I owe them lots and lots of money that I don't have), the store is going down.  And I have been in quite a funk about it.  I have had a really hard time understanding how to be happy about a situation that has been nothing but bad, worse, and even worse.  How can I not live a life of stress and misery when nearly every day I get MORE bad news?  How am I supposed to smile and gracefully accept no paycheck, no respite, no justice for over a year now?  Over a year now.  HA!  TRY OVER FOUR YEARS, 2006 ELISE.

Well, the answer is that I was seeking the wrong answers.  There are no answers to those questions.  (This is always a supremely difficult and frustrating conclusion for me to come to.  I like for there to be answers.  Things have to have solutions!  Be wrapped up neatly!)  Or maybe those answers exist, somewhere, but they aren't known to me or anyone else on this earth.  The questions I should have been asking are not WHY or HOW or WHAT DO I DO.  Who cares why this happened to me, or to my brother-in-law, or to his wife, or to my dad?  Who cares how I am supposed to be happy in these circumstances?  Who cares about what I'm supposed to do with no paycheck or any of the financial security that it might bring?

I drove myself into a very dark place by asking those questions, and the only way I have FINALLY begun to see the light again is by my brother and his girlfriend (now wife - hi, Mary!) telling me to get over myself.

What's the big deal? they asked.  Why are you letting yourself be so miserable?  So you bought a business, and it's not going so great.  Well, you must be the first person who's had that happen, right?  Oh, well, then, you MUST be the only person who has ever had financial struggles.  No?  The only person ever who has wondered why God placed them smack in the middle of a mess?  Hmmm.  Then maybe, just MAYBE, it's not that big of a deal.  All so true.  And things I really needed to hear again.

So what, if the store goes down?  Have you tried your best?  Have you done everything you could possibly do?  So what if you have to face your worst-case-scenario: filing bankruptcy, corporately?  That will almost certainly NOT happen, but even if it does?  So what!  Are you dead?  Are you going to ever be able to recover?  Are you, at the ripe old age of 25 (well, now 28 but still), going to ever be able to build your financial history back up again?

I am going down with the ship, people.  I have tried my best at the store, and I will continue trying my best as it either thrives or fails in these next few months.  Because it might thrive, it really might.  We have a great shop, great merchandise, and a year of really good sales to build upon.  But if it fails, I will be the last one on the helm of that ship, standing proud, knowing that there was absolutely nothing I did wrong, and nothing I could have done differently to prevent the sinking.

*****

It's a good thing that we aren't allowed to see the future.  Because if I would have seen, with my 2006 eyes - if I would have known that midsummer 09 I would be re-reading that and thinking oh my GOSH this has been going on for over four years now - I might have re-routed my car straight off a cliff. 

Or at least re-routed my plane to Mexico and changed my name and all identifying information.  I could be writing this from the beach in between teaching surfing lessons.  Of course I'd be a wanted felon, but still.

Hmmm.  :)

The Season Of The Witch

I love Christmas, I really do.  I like all the decorations, adore the music, definitely get into the gift-giving spirit - so that's not really my issue.

I'm just in one of those seasons where the store, and all it entails, is really starting to wear on me. 

I honestly believe that EVERYONE, regardless of their job or position in life, goes through these types of seasons, where everything they're doing and all the activities of every day add up to one seemingly pointless total.  And we all look at someone else's life; someone else's job, and think "oh, if ONLY I could be doing that.  That would be SO MUCH BETTER."  And then that person, the one doing THAT, they are looking at you and thinking the same exact thing.

What I'm saying is that I know this is normal (at least it better be), and so I'm not like, rushing out to fire-sale the store or anything.  I am just going through one of those times where every little thing I have to do regarding the store seems like a big, annoying task - and there are a LOT of "big annoying tasks" for the store this time of year.  Even when I have a day off, it never feels like one at all.  I'm either filling out some form (for the store), going to some event (for the store), spending hours trying to book a cheap plane ticket to market (for the store), updating mailing lists and working on a direct mailer (for the store), etc.  You get my drift.  And even when I push all that aside, telling myself it can wait 'til tomorrow, nothing will fall apart overnight (a stress-management technique I had to employ after I spent nearly every waking hour of my first year of ownership AT the store), I have to deal with the phone calls from vendors, telling me that I owe them money.

Yeah, because that's the new and exciting thing that's been happening ever since our economy took a nosedive.  Companies who are hurting just as badly as I am are going through invoices from YEARS back, literally, and calling on them.  Aggressively calling on them.  And the lady who owned the store before I did, when it was a whole different entity, basically - well, apparently she didn't pay some bills.  And now the companies are after their cash, and while I can't blame them, really - I mean I am as desperate as anyone these days - they really don't seem to get the concept of "SHE DOESN'T OWN THIS STORE ANYMORE, AND WE HAVE NEVER HEARD OF YOU".

Not to say that I don't owe anyone money.  Because I do.  Oh, I do.  I am constantly robbing Peter to pay Paul, and sometimes when I get called on an overdue invoice, or something from three years ago that everyone, including me, forgot about until just now - I have to tell them "sorry, I don't got it".  And Internet, let me tell you - I'm not a "sorry, I don't got it" kind of girl.  Well, I WASN'T, anyway.  But it's the truth, and at this point, on a lot of things, the truth is the best I can do. 

Two of the stores in my center went out of business in the past two months.  Things are not getting much better.  And the RIDICULOUSLY SHORT-SIGHTED MEDIA keeps on and on with their doom-and-gloom, predicting that 2009 will be the "weakest economic year in recent history", whatever THAT means (how recent? how weak? what's your definition of weak? oh, to answer all of that wouldn't be NEARLY as sensationalist, would it?).  And the general population, your average Joe who just watches the evening news over dinner, hears the media blathering endlessly about how the economy is falling apart, and he decides that he better pull the purse strings a little tighter.  No more frivolous purchasing!  He's putting his wife on a budget!  And with that, there goes my $200 per month interaction with average Joe's wife.  And if enough average Joe's make that identical decision, well, $200 x 1500 adds up REAL fast.

So when I see a mom pulling her stroller out of the trunk in the middle of the day to kill some time out of the house, I miss the dark circles under her eyes and the look of desperation on her face.  I only see the immense appeal of focusing on ONE task instead of ten million.  Raise your child, keep your house decent.  If you don't have a house-cleaner to do that second one for you, that is.  If your kid has a bad day, no one's gonna lose their job.  You aren't going to file bankruptcy if you can't get potty training down in three months.  And I know - of course that's an unfair comparison - I not only have no idea what all goes into being a stay-at-home mom, I honestly don't even WANT to do it right now - I know it's a super hard job, and when (if) I ever do it, I'm sure I will look back on my store-owner days and think OH MY GOSH, WHAT WAS I COMPLAINING ABOUT?

But maybe I won't. 

And the former scoffing I've done at 9-5 desk jobs, with all their boring monotony and personality-killing sameness - that now looks like blissful regularity, beautiful certainty.  I would go home at 5pm, maybe stop at the grocery store for dinner supplies, and NOT THINK ABOUT MY JOB ANYMORE UNTIL THE NEXT DAY.  Oh, and I'd also be getting a paycheck, which would be awesome.  And I know, I know - I get to have a super flexible schedule and fly to LA all the time, and I'm on like, the MOST INCREDIBLE concert-seeing streak ever - so again, if I was, say, working in a bank or accounting office somewhere, I might be wringing my hands over what I gave up.

But maybe I wouldn't.

The best thing to do when I'm feeling this way seems to be to remember that the store is NOT my life.  So if things at the store aren't going well, I don't need to extrapolate that over my entire life and have this all-consuming cloud of guilt and failure hovering over my every moment.  The store is NOT my life; the store is one aspect of my life, and if I am doing my best at the store, and doing everything I know how to do, then whatever happens, happens.  I have to be okay with that.  And most of the time, truthfully, I am.

But sometimes I'm not.

Thank goodness I'm only 27.

If All Vampires Are Seducers, And I Am A Vampire, Then Resistance Would Be Futile

However, I am NOT a vampire.  So that takes care of one aspect of the dilemma.  The other aspect is whether or not you believe that all vampires really ARE seducers, and I think all you have to do is look at the wild success of vampire books and movies to see that I'm right about the seduction aspect. 

I'm not sure how they did it, but somehow vampires have made pale skin, gaunt cheekbones, blood-dripping fangs, and immortality sexy.  Congratulations, O' Undead Ones.  That's quite a feat.

Now that we've got all that straightened out, the next order of business is to say I'm sorry for going completely AWOL for the past couple of weeks.  I mean, I'd love to tell you it's because I was swept away (maybe by a vampire?) to a secret island, where I was served hand and foot and engaged in all sorts of glamorous activities.  Or maybe even that I just decided to take some time off from all my responsibilities, read some good books, take some naps...

But no. 

The truth is (and this sums it up quickly for those of you who think brevity is a virtue), bad economy = Elise The Retail Business Owner working her tail off, trying everything she can think of to get things back on track. 

Not very interesting, eh?  I told you.

It's just disconcerting, is all, to have the proverbial rug pulled out from under you like this.  I don't mean you, the reader - I doubt that my posting frequency (or lack thereof) has the ability to leave anyone feeling unsettled.  I mean that as a business owner, especially in the retail sector of things, this "economic crisis" is hitting pretty close to home.

I'm sure many of you have seen the front page stories in the New York Times and the Wall Street Journal today -  but if you haven't, they are telling the same tale I've been telling all summer.  Retail sales are down.  Down more than they have been in a long while.  No one is happy about it.  No one knows exactly what the problem is (other than the ridiculous sub-prime lending/credit crunch situation we all know about).  Everyone thinks things will get better.  In fact, things are getting better!  Yay!

And on we go.

Except really, what I just said up there is the truth of the matter but I fear that the media, with its insatiable thirst for blood, will only focus on the "doom" and will totally ignore the "light at the end of the tunnel" aspect of things.  And that, my dear friends, only makes everything WORSE.  The more the average American THINKS things are bad, the more tight-fisted they'll be with their money, and that means they aren't spending it with me or anyone else.  So stores go out of business and put more employees out of work, who in turn have to be even stingier with their cash, because they really don't know when they'll get more.  And the cycle continues.  However!  Much of the current cycle, especially in high-end areas like the one in which my store does business, is based on somewhat REACTIONARY principles, otherwise known as FREAKING OUT FOR NO GOOD REASON.

So. Stop freaking out, America!  Yes, we got ourselves into a bit of a situation with the sub-prime lending and the massive credit crisis and yes, some of us overextended ourselves and are now paying the price.  And yes, some of us DIDN'T overextend ourselves, we did everything by the book and we STILL feel like we're paying the price.  Well, we are.  But it's going to be okay.  Things will equalize, and whether that means when we come out on the other end of the tunnel things look like our current version of "normal" or if they are a totally new "normal", we can adjust.   Okay?  Okay.

Now!  Guess who I met.

That's right, I got to eat dinner (well, I was the only one eating) and get drinks (was NOT the only one drinking) with none other than Julie!  And even though she texted me, wondering if there were ANY crosswalks or pedestrian-friendly areas near where she was staying (no, there were not) and even though she had to WALK to where we met up (aah! still feel bad about that, Julie!), we had a great time nonetheless.  And I feel pretty confident in saying that Julie got a real solid taste of Texas boys trying to hit on her.

We ended up telling everyone we were on our first date, which, technically, was true.  And, if you'll reference the picture above, I CLEARLY made it up to the hotel room and if that doesn't give you any indication of how things went, well.... Maybe you haven't had very good first dates.

I also did this:

 By myself.  Which shows how much I really love this band, because I wasn't quite sure how I felt about going to a concert by myself.  I mean, is that awesome, or total loserville?  It's a tough call.  Luckily, I got to meet up with these two (getting married in two weeks!) before the show:

We laughed, we drank wine, we discussed politics....and then we tried our hand at governing an errant bee situation.  We roundtabled about what might be the best angle to take with the bees - were they friend or foe?  It was hard to tell.  They were definitely after our bread, so Adam decided that perhaps some peace treaties should be attempted, and he put a piece of Peace (I know, I know) Bread down at one end of the table for the bees to have.  See, they can have their stuff, we have our stuff, and we all live in harmony.  It's a great concept.  Unfortunately (and similarly to how these things go in real life), the bee was discontent with his small slice of bread, kept angling for the whole loaf, and eventually - he had to die. 

I know, it's harsh.  But you may as well know the truth.

Let's see, what else....I've gotta tell you, I've spent the vast majority of the past month or so in near-constant state of feeling flustered.  And that makes it hard to do anything, much less think coherently for long enough to bang out a post.  But I'm nothing if not resourceful, and I'm dealing with it, so you can expect posting to resume as originally scheduled.  Meaning that after the Project Runway season finale tonight (which I WILL recap on Friday), I will go back to my once or twice-weekly posting schedule, and (more importantly) I promise that I cannot wait to read and comment on everything that I've missed while I've been on this strange hiatus.  I can't promise that I won't hit the "mark all read" button in my feeder, because right now it's hovering near the 2000 mark, but after that, I'm back on track.

And after my first real life date with a previously Internet-only friend went SO well, I can't wait to meet more of you guys.  I know I'm all the way down here in Texas (and don't ask Julie how the rest of her visit went) but if you're EVER sent down here for any reason, I promise to make the whole experience just a little more fun.  And I'll even pick you up, so you don't have to search in vain for crosswalks.  I also won't force feed you tequila, ESPECIALLY if you claim to be allergic.

People Confuse Me, Part 13,379

It's been a long time since I've written about the myriad of weirdos who come into my store, and I felt, after yesterday's customer-service melee, that there was no way I could deny you any longer.  So without further ado, allow me to profile several of my strangest shoppers, and please let me know if you can make any more sense of them than I've been able to:

Customer Profile One: The Self-Proclaimed Expert

This customer can be male or female, but in my case, is a youngish, dark-haired male.  He comes in every once in a while, usually with a female companion (never the same one thus far) and although my boutique is (and always has been) exclusively a WOMEN'S shop, he likes to take a careful inventory of my selection anyway.

Self-Proclaimed Expert, looking at a rack of jeans: Ohh, these are NICE.  We carry a spin-off of this brand.  You know, at the Buckle.  That's where I work.  (ed note: he has told me that he works at the Buckle about a million times) 

Me: Yeah.  That's a good denim line for us.

SPE: The thing to remember is that you have to have at least one line for all the high-school chicks who want nothing but skin-tight jeans, and another line for your new mommy types who haven't exactly gotten their thang back, you know? 

Me: Their thang?

SPE: Yeah, I know!  Haha!  Oh wow, look at this strapless number, now this one's not for the small-breasted girls, is it?

Me: Um!  Actually - see that smocking in the back?  That kind of -

SPE, interrupting me: Oh, so that pulls it tighter, I get it.  I mean, I just didn't SEE that before, because if I would've seen the smocking, I'd have known it would work no matter what size boobs you've got.  See, I help the girl customers at the Buckle, where I work...you know, I sort of made it a personal challenge, to see if I could help the girls...and now I totally rock it, so I keep helping 'em.  But the thing you have to remember is that if you let some chick with little boobs in the dressing room, and she's got all this stuff that only looks good on the chicks with BIG boobs, well, she's gonna get depressed.

Me: ....

SPE: Let me ask you something: this dress, it's like, $400.  And I can TOTALLY tell why, I mean, it's obviously very high quality and well-made.  I mean, it seems durable.

Me, looking at the airy silk and chiffon dress that would probably snag on a splinter and hanging around to hear what his question is: Durable, yes...

SPE, glancing at me sideways and looking annoyed that I am still standing there: Okay, yes, thank you.

In case it doesn't come through in written format, the "thank you" at the end is a very clear dismissal ("yes, you can go now"), that, while certainly not the RUDEST thing a customer could do, is a personal pet peeve of mine on par with snapping your fingers at a waiter.

Customer Profile Two: The Customer Who Hates You And Your Store

This customer is nearly always female, because most men don't have the talent of maintaining an unreasonable emotional stance for long periods of time.  She can be any age, but will most likely be on the older side.  In my case, the CWHYAYS is stereotypical: a female in or around her 50's, hell-bent on letting me and my employees know that she DOES NOT LIKE US.

CWHYAYS, entering the store with a disgruntled look: Sigh.

Me: Hi, how are you?  Can I help you find anything?

CWHYAYS: NO.  I'm just looking, but I don't even know why I bother.  There's never anything in here that fits my taste.

Me: Okay... we just got in a shipment of jewelry, and it's all there on the front table.  We also got some new purses, and the most recent tops are at that rack right near the door; they've been selling really well.

CWHYAYS: Well, I can't imagine who is buying them, unless it's all young girls.  I've told you I don't like to show my arms, but you don't have anything in here with sleeves. (ed note: it's September, and I think I MIGHT have one rack that still has sleeveless/tanks.  Everything else in the entire store has sleeves)

Me, still laboring under the delusion that if I show her tops with sleeves, she'll see that we do, in fact, have them: Oh, okay, with sleeves...we have some really nice blouses right here that we just got in, and over on this rack are some wraps that are very versatile, you can tie them in front, or just let them hang loose, or even -

CWHYAYS, interrupting: No, no, no.  I don't wear wrappy things like that.  They aren't flattering at all.  Sigh.  Do you have any capris?

Me: Just the denim ones you see right there.

CWHYAYS: I obviously meant khaki capris; where would I ever wear denim pants like that?  I work for a law firm!

Me: Sorry, it looks like we're striking out today. 

CWHYAYS, grabbing a skin-tight pencil skirt that she would NEVER wear and one of the three sleeveless tops in the store: I guess I'll put a few things on hold, then.

Me, internally: WHY??????  YOU CLEARLY HATE IT ALL!  Now I won't be able to sell it to anyone else and we'll end up putting it back out after the two-day hold period only to have you come back in and get mad at us for not keeping it back for you.

Me, externally: Sure, just let me get a hang-tag for you.

Customer Profile Three: The Insane Neurosurgery Patient

While I'll be the first to admit that not everyone will have this specific type of customer (but of course we do! lucky me!)*, I would feel remiss if I didn't briefly touch on what can easily be a very complicated situation.  This customer has a tentative grasp on reality, and you'll find that it's extremely difficult to differentiate between what is fact and what is fiction with the INP.  The customer will often request special favors from you, and, even when you kindly say no, you'll find that the very next day the customer is back, expecting you to deliver on the very favor you declined.

Insane Neurosurgery Patient: Wow, this dress is amazing.  Is it on sale?

Me: No, we just got it in five minutes ago.  In fact, that's why it's still in a box.  You'll notice the box there, the one you just pulled the dress out of?

INP: Can I try it on?

Me: Well, it's not steamed, but I guess you can...

INP, modeling dress that is FAR too small in the top: My, my, my, this is a saucy little number!  Do you think I could just wear a black bra with this?

Me, gaping at the enormous amount of cleavage shown in what was formerly a demure wrap dress: Um, well, I'd probably put a cami or something underneath that, just to...you know...Cover?

INP: Is it on sale?

Me: Well, no, I mean - remember how I just got it in?  It hasn't even gone out on the floor yet.

INP: Okay, okay.  I just love it though; I may have to get it either way, sale or not!  (ed note: she never buys anything that isn't on sale, so this will never happen)  By the way, have you thought any more about that candle party I want you to do here?

Me, holding brochure for candles INP is hawking: Yes, and I'd love to do it (ed note: LIE) but as I mentioned to you last time, I'm not allowed to sell tax-free items in this retail space according to my Texas State Resale License.

INP: Oh, those bastards, they'd never catch you!  Haha!  You should just do it to spite 'em!  Did I tell you what they did to me when I fell in that hallway and had to have brain surgery?

Me, wondering what the Texas Comptroller's office could possibly have to say about that: I'll be right back, I need to start a dressing room for that customer over there.

INP, whispering conspiratorially to my employee at the cash register: I just love this dress, can you ring it up really quick?  Elise said she'll give me half off.

Employee: She did?  Are you sure?  We just got this dress in...it's not even priced, actually.  Let me ask her.

INP: Don't do that!  Haha!  I'm just kidding.  I mean, a girl's gotta try, right?

Employee, grimacing: Yeah, uh huh.

*Before you think I'm a horrible person, heartlessly making fun of someone with a legitimate medical condition, let me explain that A) we aren't even sure if she's actually had brain surgery or if she's making it up and B) she talks ALL THE TIME about how she wants another surgery of ANY type so that she can continue to receive her disability checks.  And she's even gone as far as to ask MY advice on what type of surgery "looks best for that type of thing".  You know, because as a boutique owner I'd be qualified to dispense surgical advice on how to screw the system.

The Importance Of Being Chill

I live my life in a near-constant state of freaking out.  I'm not sure if that shows on the outside or not - those of you who know me in real life will have to share - but on the inside, I am normally in some degree of turmoil.

It wasn't always like this.  Or was it?  I remember plenty of conversations where I was the footloose and fancy-free one; I've always been the type of girl who will take off, at a moment's notice, on the most random of adventures.  In fact, I seek them out.

Doesn't that make me a free spirit? 

Not really, as it happens.  Looking for chaos, whether that be in the form of a last-minute trip or in the creation of a problem where previously one did not exist, is just a way I make my outward circumstances match my inner mindset.  If I have something concretely chaotic to focus upon, I don't have to consider why my mind is always racing.  I need an off button.

In true all or nothing fashion, when I finally do relax, I REALLY relax.  I don't want to do ANYTHING, don't want to think anything, don't want to have to figure out anything.  I don't want to worry about being social, because then my mind will start spinning again, trying to figure out if this person is having fun, and what about that guy over there?  Who's he with?  Do we need to include him?  Is my house clean enough?  Was that a tuft of dog hair I just saw tumbleweeding across the floor?  I just vacuumed YESTERDAY, for goodness sake.  How much can one dog shed?  Now everyone is going to think I keep a nasty house.  Wait, did we just run out of chips?  I KNEW I should have bought more than two bags.  Oh and now what will we do?  Am I supposed to come up with something?  Because I don't FEEL LIKE DOING ANYTHING!

It's beginning to get tiresome.

I envy the ease with which many of my friends go about their lives.  They go to work, they put in an hour at the gym, they go to the grocery store, they pick up their house.  They fold laundry.  They have visitors drop by unannounced, and they don't care.  They fall asleep without a television on to drown out the noise of their relentless thoughts.

How do they do that?

I realize that much of my stress is self-inflicted.  Like I said, I almost seek out the chaos in a situation, because I am so used to being in that state that I feel like I wouldn't know what to do without it.  I made the decision to start my own retail business at the age of 24, despite being warned numerous times by many, many (well-meaning) people the statistics on small-business failure (over 90% in the first two years) and the ridiculously fickle nature of retail.  Duly noted, and then pushed aside.  I went for my dreams!  I knew it would be hard!

And holy geez, it is hard.

I guess I'm in that middle part of "living your dream".  The part when all the difficult stuff has been realized; the reasons so many people don't do what you're doing become abundantly clear, and you have moved well beyond questioning your own sanity for making the choice you did (verdict: clearly insane).  But I'm not yet to the point where I can fondly look back and say "wow, I really did it, didn't I?  I just took the leap and crossed my fingers and hoped for the best, and if I knew then what I do now, I probably wouldn't have done it.  But my goodness, am I glad I did!" 

Yeah, I could say the first half of that sentiment rings true.  But not that last bit.

At this point, I guess all I am wishing for is to be a little more Zen.  A little more in touch with myself, and a little less inclined to have this constant, relentless "you'renotdoingthisright!" bearing down on me.  I catch myself doing something totally innocuous - stepping out of the bathtub or looking at a not-quite-ripe orange in the grocery store - and I suddenly get a rush of bad adrenaline, that overwhelmingly negative something-is-wrong-feeling.  And if I don't pull myself out of it, the brief moment of self-awareness will pass by and I'll just continue about my day, now saddled with an (unnecessary) impending sense of doom.

The thing that bugs me the most is that I just KNOW the stress sneaks by me undetected more often that not.  There's really no reason to live my life this way; no reason to go from one activity to the next with a giant storm cloud brewing above my head.  Sure, some things are bad.  Some parts of my life are not the way I would want them to be.  And some of those things I can control (to a point) and some I can't. 

So what I want - what I need - is to just chill.  I need to stop the sneaky advances of stress from ruining perfectly innocent grocery store trips.  I need to try my best, and know that it's GOOD ENOUGH.  I need to allow the phrase "good enough" to exist in my personal dictionary.  And much like a good friend ended her entry the other day, this is not a "pity me, I have it so hard" type of post at all.  It's much more a "does anyone else have this ever-present feeling of doom plaguing you at all hours?" type of thing.  And if so, what do you do about it?

July, You're Everything I Never Knew I Wanted

July is a weird month for me, professionally speaking.  Mostly that's even weird to type because I am one of the least professional people I have ever known.  And yet I still, somehow, maintain a profession.  A profession in retail!  In business ownership!  Hi, my name is Elise and I own a clothing boutique.  I'm a professional.

Unfortunately, July is not a great time to own a boutique (especially Economic Crunch July of 2008) because it's the middle of the summer and half of this East Texas population is on vacation to cooler climates (or planning for such a vacay), and the other half is sitting around their sweltering backyards in those plastic swimming pools filled with ice water, sweating, and passionately hating all the people who are on vacation.  No one's really all about getting into their super-heated car after it's been baking in the garage, driving to a super-heated parking lot, walking through the super-heated, lava-like parking lot, and throwing some possible vacay money away on new clothes.  To this I say: You are only making yourselves more miserable, People Of My Town.  Spend your money at my store, buy yourself some new pretty things - maybe a sundress!  EVERYTHING is better in a nice, cool, breezy sundress.  And yet, the People Of My Town largely ignore me, or at least that's what my mid-summer dwindling sales figures would have you believe.  It's just the scourge of owning a clothing boutique in a hot, Texas town.  The summers will always be slow.  It really is too dadgum hot to care about anything other than A) basic survival and B) popsicles.  Fashion goes straight out the window.  But in the fall, oh the glorious fall - everything is made up for in the fall.  September can't get here fast enough, if you ask me.  So in that respect, July = Blah.

However, tomorrow, on the 12th of July, I will celebrate the day I bought this boutique, and that makes July pretty awesome.  In fact, as of tomorrow I will have owned my boutique for FOUR YEARS.  Meaning, of course, that tomorrow marks the START of our fourth year.  So it's our third year anniversary, technically.  But, as I explained in depth last year, I am not going to let that little technicality suck my joy and hard work away.  I've been doing this thing for four years (oh, fine. as of tomorrow it will be four years), and by golly, the words FOUR and FOURTH will be in there somewhere.

So, much like I requested of you last year, have FOUR of something for me today or tomorrow.  I would make it easy and say drinks, but since suggesting the idea of having four drinks might, to some, seem...I don't know.  Excessive?  I will say you can break it up into today AND tomorrow.  So have two drinks today, and two tomorrow.  Or two desserts today, and two tomorrow.  It's for THE STORE.  A celebration.  Geez.  Don't rain on the parade with your silly ideas about moderation.  And if you do decide to have four drinks or four desserts or four popsicles or four of anything else you like - PLEASE make sure to come back and comment in all your drunken/sugar-crazed/brain-frozen glory.  And I'll do the same.

Car Lots, Books, And Music (The Trifecta)

So, the other day while I was in LA, I lost my car downtown and got stranded on a rooftop parking lot for the entire night.  Well, almost.

I have parked in this particular lot many times before, and have never had any problems with it.  It's close to where I work, easy to see from street level (helps with my abysmal sense of direction), and stays open late.  On this particular Monday, the parking attendant took my five bucks when I pulled up, gave me a parking stub, and told me they would be open until 6pm.  Standard procedure.  I grabbed my stuff and said adios, heading out into the wilds of the Los Angeles Fashion District.

A little before 5:30pm, after I had finished working and also managed to convince myself into buying a big, white watch (my friend said, after I finally made the purchase, that he had never seen anyone get buyer's remorse WHILST buying the item), I started heading back to my car.  I easily located my particular rooftop parking structure and took the (unbelievably slow) elevator (that always smells EXACTLY like pee) up to the fourth floor and got out to find the parking attendant.  No dice.

I figured he might be down taking a smoke break or something (although I'm not sure why you would have to get off the roof to do such a thing), and that he'd probably be back fairly quickly.  Plus, anyone who's ever driven much in LA knows that leaving downtown to go anywhere around 6pm is going to be a long, slow process.  So I wasn't in a huge hurry.  However, as I waited, I kept seeing other patrons of this car lot walk out of the elevator with car keys in hand, open their cars, and drive off.  How were they getting the keys?  Where was the magic key guy, handing out keys?  I certainly never saw him.  Was he in the Pee Elevator?  I finally flagged down one of the happily be-keyed drivers to ask him what was up. 

Here's a rundown of that conversation:

Me:  "Excuse me, sir?  Umm, sir?  Sorry...I just...umm, I can't find the parking attendant, and I saw you had your keys...where did you get them?  Is the guy downstairs?"

Him:  "....."

Me:  "I mean, you know.  Your KEYS?  Did someone down there give you your keys?  THE KEYS, WHERE DID YOU GET THEM?"

Him (shrugging):  "ehhhh....I not know?"

Me:  "of COURSE you don't speak English, okay, whatever, whatever."

I am, at this point, getting more than a little concerned about my car.  I decide that probably the best plan of action is walking frantically around the top of the building, looking everywhere for signs of parking attendant life, and appearing (I'm sure) insane.  Finally someone who looks like he MIGHT work for somebody around there walks up, and I nearly jump on him.

Me:  "THEKEYS,OMG,WHEREISTHEGUYWITHTHEKEYS, (breath) ICAN'TFINDHIMANDWHEREISHE?"

Him:  "....keys?"

Me:  "YES.  The keys to my car?  It's right there?  And I have to leave?  And I have no keys?  And the parking lot guy, he isn't up here?"  For some reason when I get upset, I end everything with an upward inflection.  It's totally involuntary, and I hate it because I KNOW it does nothing but immediately label me as Crazed Emotional Woman.  Frustrating.

Him:  "Ahhh....yeeees....I think he is left.  I think he is left, ehhh...around 5 or 5:30?"

Me:  "No.  No, that can't be true, because he TOLD me 6pm; it's always 6pm, and it's NOT 6PM."

Him (shrugging):  "Huh.  I don't know.  Maybe you check on third floor?"

Me:  "Why?  What is on the third floor?  What am I looking for?  Wait!"

Him (walking away):  "Good luck!"

These two conversations very neatly sum up my view on Los Angeles, which is something I get asked about a lot since I'm out there at least half of my life these days.  Do I like it?  Do I hate it?  Is it all superficial and golden bronzed and beautiful on the surface?  Underneath is it crime-ridden and totally scary?  Sure, I guess it's all of those things, in some measure.  But what it really is is apathetic.  That's the one and only word I've ever come up with that succinctly and accurately describes Los Angeles, in its entirety.  Apathetic.  No one cares about you, and they don't even have the heart to make that a mean thing.  They just really don't care.  If you're doing great, well, that's great for you.  Whatever.  If you're doing badly, say you're stuck on a rooftop, alone, in downtown LA, with no appreciable escape plan, well, too bad.  Best of luck.  Whatever.  Now of course both of my brothers and several of my good friends live in and around LA, and so OBVIOUSLY the apathy thing is a generalization of the greater population, and not a personal indictment on each and every Los Angelean.  So don't get all up in arms about how you live there and you are the OPPOSITE of apathetic and how dare I.  I'm sure you're a lovely person, and I do wish you would have been on the roof with me this past Monday.  But you weren't!  On with the story.

So after the exceptionally helpful advice from the even more helpful man, I ran down to the third floor, and started looking around.  Of course there was nothing but closed office doors and...well, that was all. Lots of closed and locked office doors.  I ran back up to the fourth floor, thinking how frustrating it would be to miss the freaking parking attendant while I was running a wild goose chase across the third floor (again, SUCH helpful advice!) and to my disappointment, no one was there. 

At this point, I seriously started considering my options.  Would I call someone?  It would take any person I knew out there at least an hour or two to get to me, and what would I do in the meantime?  I could call a taxi, but at rush hour, that would possibly cost me more than chartering a helicopter to do a rooftop pickup.  Either way, leaving my car up there meant that I would have to A) return downtown the next morning during normal business hours to pick my car up, B) force the unhappy friend/family member to give me a ride back downtown the next morning OR pay the taxi/helicopter the rest of my life savings to do so and C) absolutely miss both my car rental drop-off time (thus ensuring another full day's cost) AND my flight.  So.  I was unhappy.  And really, I kind of started Freaking Out.  And when I say Freaking Out, I mean my version of such, which involves a lot less crying and lot more...furiousness?   I mean, how DARE the parking attendant just leave?  What in the world?  Who DOES that?  What am I supposed to do?  And it STILL wasn't after 6pm!

I stalked around angrily until I had the bright idea to walk down the parking ramp and see if I ran into anyone on my way.  Around level two, I saw an empty parking attendant cage, but upon closer inspection saw that a man, wearing an employee shirt, was sitting in a parked van nearby.  I walked (with purpose!) up to the van and demanded to know where my keys were.  Sure, I realized that he had no idea who I was or what I was talking about, but I am pleased to report that I apparently had SO much purpose in my voice, that the poor man jumped out of his van, walked over to the lockbox, opened it, and handed me a set of keys.  The only problem was, they weren't keys to my car.  In fact, they were keys to a much, MUCH nicer car, a car parked on level two, which I guess is corporate parking or something.  Anyway, after a second of moral relativism (hmm, what could I do with this car?) I informed Parking Lot Man that those were NOT my keys, and that I needed MY keys, immediately.  He didn't seem to understand me (again, with the no English), and kept pushing the other keys at me, as if to say "here, crazy!  Keys!  Take the keys!  Leave me be!"  But I wasn't having any of it.  I dragged Parking Lot Man all the way up to level four, pointed at my car, and said "KEYS.  I NEED KEYS TO THAT CAR".  And after a series of phone calls, all in rapid Spanish, another parking attendant came back to the lot and gave me my keys.  Not to worry though, he hadn't "left" as in "left downtown".  He had only "left the premises, to go to the other lot".  OH GOOD, BECAUSE THAT MAKES A BIG DIFFERENCE TO ME, THE ONE WITH NO KEYS.  Leaving is leaving.  And had he not been summoned by Scared Parking Lot Man, he wouldn't have come back until the next morning.  Again, with the apathy.  Too bad for me!  He had to go to the other lot.

Ugh.

So, let's segue.  I need book suggestions, stat.  I am out of good books and I am in a definite reading mood and yet I have nothing that I know of that I must read.  Note:  I don't think I am up for something REALLY deep and soul-searching.  I mean, kind of deep is okay.  Like I could handle some death and depression, but nothing where I feel like I must immediately go to Darfur and what about my carbon footprint and how dare I be such a horrible human.  I'm not really ready for that at the moment. 

And, if you don't have a great book suggestion (or even if you do), then how about a song suggestion?  I have been totally loving all the mixes that have been passed around the ol' Interwebs these days, and stemming from a fun email conversation I had yesterday with Tiff, thought it would be awesome if everyone could just give me one song that they feel I must listen to immediately, right now.  Your mantra song of the moment, if you will.  I'd absolutely love to listen to the suggestions.  And bonus points if you want to tell me WHY it's your mantra right now. 

So, there you go.  You guys get a long, rambling story about how I almost lost my car in downtown LA, and in return I get awesome book and music suggestions.  Sounds about right, doesn't it?

Possibly The Worst Thing About Me

I always expect myself to do things perfectly the first time.  And then when they aren't perfect, I hate myself for it.

Bonus!

No time for food results in surprise weight loss!

Story at 11.

Corrections to Previous Schedule

Previously:

Wednesday, Nov 7 - finish booth at trade show, continue model fittings, evening preview party for trade show

Actually:

Wednesday, Nov 7 - Die.  DYING.  DY. ING.   Death.

Will update with further corrections as needed.