Business

Posts about my businesses.

Yes, Well, We are VERY Classy

Tchad

I have a friend who has strange ideas about what impresses people.

He grew up soul-crushingly poor. To this day it haunts him.  He carries it with him in everything he does. He thinks that everyone is trying to take his money away from him and undervaluing what he produces.

I was helping him organize some digital images on a USB drive the other day and as we were creating folders and getting things together I saw that he had a number of pictures of $100 bills strewn across the table in his gallery.  I asked him where they got filed and he said “résumé”.  I asked him why résumé and he said: “I print these out and take them in with me when I am interviewing for a commission [he is a fine artist] so I can show them and let them know that they can’t cheat me. I make money.”

I was shocked that someone would do this.

It goes against every single business theory I have.  I asked him if maybe he understood that he may not be getting the commissions he deserves because he was putting people off.  He didn’t understand what I meant.  To him the idea that someone would show up with those kinds of pictures meant business; where to me it would mean it is the last time they would EVER hear from me.

This surprised him.

I explained that those with money don’t really want to see huge displays of it.  That someone commissioning a work from him would be really disgusted by those pictures.

Me: “It speaks of a lack of class!  To me it says ‘I have no grace or elegance’, ‘I am the farthest thing from refined you will see!’, and ‘I don’t know how to behave in social situations’.”

Him: “Um, Tchad, since you are giving me a lecture about class, refinement, and grace… I wasn’t going to say anything… but you have a big booger hanging out of your nose… I can’t let you go on and on about dignity while you have something hanging out of your nose.”

Me: “…”

Him: “I’m sorry.  You were saying?”

So that is it.  I still think that it is classless behavior on his part to take those photos to an interview… something glass houses… something something stones…

 

 

If I read this ONE more time:

Tchad

Please advise. 

Please advise. 

Please advise.

I hate it.  It drives me bananas.  There are way too many other ways you could phrase things without this little fleck of douchebaggery.

It always comes up in emails when there is something that the person is disputing or wants to correct:

Your mannequins are too expensive.  I will pay $75 for each, not $200.  Please advise.

I was under the impression that x, y, and z… and that is not the case, I would like a refund.  Please advise.

I am interested in the 3-6 class but can only come every third week and have to bring special (whatever).  Please advise.

I really try hard to be kind and understanding, but I HATE this phrase.  It feels very passive-agrressive to me.  Maybe I am wrong.  Maybe people think that it feels neutral and corporate.  Maybe I am the one with the issue.  BUT FYI: It feels threatening and almost ENSURES that you won’t get what you are looking for.  At least from me.

So consider yourself advised.

 

Agriculture Blog Is Up And Running

Tchad

Just finished setting up the Agriculture blog I have been wanting to get going for a while now: Rural Pursuits.  You can click on the link or go to http://blog.tchad.ag.

Overall, I am happy with it.  It does need just a little tweaking, but it is there.  I have tons of things in the pipeline that I am writing – everything from Hedge Apples to Horses.

Ok, getting called away for real work now.  Stay tuned.

And Here We Go Again

Tchad

So the Summer is almost officially over and I am back at the Workroom trying to make things happen.
I sat down last night and very loosely cobbled together a set of numbers that need to happen between now and the end of the Spring classes 2012.  It is A LOT, especially for what I do here. So I need to get on the ball and not just wait for my MacArthur genius grant to come through.

There won’t be any clothing made this year – at least not until the late Spring – I am thoroughly burnt out on making clothing for the time being and the idea of making a dress sends me into paroxysms of anxiety.  I am thinking of coming up with more designs and extending/developing the way they would be produced, but that is IT.

Instead I am going to try to develop the classes and other facets of the business.  This is going to include some instructional video work,  some language instruction, and more than a little high-end agricultural development in both Wisconsin and Indiana.
Today I have two girls coming up to work for a bit and then it is on to getting the Workroom up and running.  With Greg’s estate, the extended Summer vacation, and my general malaise since March… Well, the place could use some tending-to.

But I feel more put together than I have for a very long time.  It is funny how that works.

 

 

Like being punched in the stomach…

Tchad

I wrote before that this kind of full-body grief is like being punched in the stomach.

You know what else is like being punched in the stomach?

Love.

The record producer and his wife across the hall from the workroom have a little girl, Elizabeth.

Baby wrangling

This was nice.

Wow.

Besides being just about the best baby EVER, I find myself being super protective of her.  She just turned one in April and has been walking and trying to talk for a while.  So I walk her around the neighborhood and help out when I can.

So she is starting to get into things here and there and today I helped Mary, her mother, clean a cut on her finger from a pair of scissors.  Elizabeth wasn’t happy about it, but she stood still while I talked to her and cleaned it out and put a bandage on it.  She still wasn’t thrilled, but stopped fussing and met my eye solidly the entire time.  When we were done and she smiled and started dancing.

My little heart just sang.

It is odd to feel so strongly about a child who isn’t yours, but there you go: It takes a village and all that…

Here is a pic of us when I was best man at her parents’ wedding:

Tchad and Elizabeth

Now this, THIS will brighten your day!

They came over and got me (I had been in pretty bad shape for a while – you can see my face and how beat up it was from all of the crying and emotional stress lately) and I was best man and head-baby-wrangler for the afternoon.

Wow.  You have to remember what makes your life really sing sometimes.

Snap. Snap. Snap.

Tchad

Hundreds of pictures.  Hundreds.

Not even 30% of the way through the tables of stuff from Greg’s and am getting tired.

I really want to get everything except the antique glassware, books, albums, and cds done tonight.

If I can get those listed, then I can list the rest of the things over the course of the next two days.

Aiming to have the whole workroom empty by 6 July.  A tall order, but I think it can work.

The nice thing about this much mindless focus is that it really takes you out of yourself.  It is the one thing I liked about a corporate job – you are called on just to do.  Format, template, rules, just do. Do. Do. Do.  So this kind of thing is not making me tear up like something that forces my creative side.

OK.  If you want to look at the mess I am in, check out my Ebay profile.

No crying today.  THAT, my friends, is a very good thing.

 

So Far So Good.

Tchad

Today has been pretty good so far.

Yesterday, as part of my purge of the workroom I sold my Singer 31-15 Industrial sewing machine.

It made me sad, but it went to a good purpose:

Matt and his boyfriend James picking the machine up from the workroom.  They were super excited about it.  Mat had been texting and emailing all morning so that he could be the one to get it for James.  We spent some time talking about what they do and the machine.  In all, I think that the history of the piece will carry on.  It will certainly get more use than it was getting up at the workroom.  You can read more about what James does here:

JamesSommerfeldt.com

That is James on the left and Matt on the right.

The history of that machine, just in case it gets sold and someone looks up the serial number:

I bought the machine from a guy named Petar on the near West side of Chicago. Here is the text of the history he knew of it:

We acquired the machine when my mom bought a cleaners located at 3521 W. Fullerton Ave.  We moved to the space in 1966.  Before that someone else owned the cleaners throughout the 50s and early 60s.  Around 1970 we were forced to move because we lost our lease and the building was sold, so we moved next door to 3523 W. Fullerton Ave. where the machine stayed until 1979 when we sold the business.  Fortunately, my mom took the machine with her to our home in Park Ridge, Illinois and had an alteration business going in the neighborhood – we lived at 1029 S. Prospect – we had a completely finished garage – it was a story and a half and the first floor was carpeted – the previous owners had 8 kids so they had made the garage into a family room.  So the machine was there until 1992.  After my moms death in 1988 and my father moving to Italy and getting remarried, we sold the house and I took the machine to my apartment at 8654 West Summerdale Ave Apt3s.  It was there until 2000, when I bought a town home in Round lake Illinois and moved it along with the rest of my things there.  I was there until the fall of 2003, I sold my town home and moved back to the city, however I was renting a room from a women and didn’t have room for most of my stuff, so I put it into storage with Midway Moving and Storage – they have a warehouse around Pulaski and Lake Streets.  It was there until November 2006 when I purchased my current place and put it into the storage room.  The machine has essentially been unused since 1988 when my mom passed away, however I really tried to take care of it.  That is about all the history i know.  it has been moved around a bit – would be interesting to find out what it was doing pre-1950s; I guess that will remain a mystery.

The serial number is: G521375

It is a Singer 31-15

I am especially happy that yet another creative gay guy owns it.  Keep it in the family, so to speak.

And that is it.  The things we surround ourselves with have these rich histories.  Sometimes they are mundane and work-a-day like this and sometimes they are more exciting.  The point is that we are connected to each other by more than just our humanity.  We are connected through our tools and artifacts.  They are tangible things that tie us together as human beings.

Lesson: You Can’t Please Everyone and You Can’t Make Everything OK

Tchad

One of the biggest problems and biggest fall-outs from all of this has been my professional life.

My personal life?  All I have is totally internal, so there isn’t much of an external one to notice change.

But my professional life tends to be my connection to others.  I may not have friends like most people, but I have roomfuls of people who chit-chat, make nice, and then I teach them a stitch or make them a dress. And there is the rub.  Making the dresses.

See, the entire Spring session was a disaster.  It began when I was at my worst.  I tried to soldier through it.  I really did. But I wasn’t at my best.  Luckily my third or fourth best is better than most people’s first best so it seemed ok. OK as far as the classes went. It seemed.

But how many times can you catch yourself screwing up and making terrible mistakes – or in a classroom setting not catching others and stopping their mistakes before they happened.

See, I have always said that my students and clients deserve my best or something close to it.  That hasn’t happened for months and now I have everyone pissed.  Well, not everyone.  The students are pretty good about it.  But the clients aren’t.

Oh, sure, make the dresses, teach the classes, whatever… how hard could it be?  What is your problem? But when you are your own worst critic (it isn’t really that much of a cliché… some people aren’t) it is overwhelming.  You make ridiculous mistakes and then spend hours crying about them.  In a corner. You lose time, you lose money, you lose the little spark of inspiration that makes it all worthwhile.  I thought I understood depression before, but until I caught myself NOT going to Greg’s 23rd floor apartment because there were no locks on the windows and what if… well, you know you have a real problem.

Wellbutrin seems to be helping, but I won’t know until nearer the end of the Summer.  Right now I am trying to stay out of harm’s way.  It is a real pain – in every sense of that word. It feels like someone punched you in the stomach the night before while you were blackout drunk – you have the pain and the cramping but can’t explain it.
I had experienced a broken heart before – once – in my early 20s and it wasn’t fun.  But this.  THIS was something else.  Something profound and life-altering.  It is one of the worst things so far and I am someone who has plenty of battle scars. YOU can’t see them, but they are there.

Have been telling myself for years that if it came down to it I would go back to the country raise tomatoes and ride horses.  That may just happen.

But the title!  What the hell does all of this have to do with the title?

Ah, glad you asked.  I have been sick to my stomach for months with three projects that just aren’t going to happen.  I don’t want anyone’s money and have offered refunds because that’s what I do, but so many folks are pissed and I just can’t do it.  I hate to disappoint them.  I hate it that I can barely pick up anything creative or build something without it turning into some nightmare-fueled sob-fest.

So you can’t please everyone.  You can try to explain, you can try to deal with it, you can try to keep things to yourself and let people in on an as-needed basis, but it is still going to smack you in the face and you have to decide.  You have to decide if screwing up that dress and sending yourself into some dark hole  for a dress just so someone won’t be upset with you.

ramblerambleramble…  You can’t please everyone.  It is good to try.  But at the end of the day, you can try to make it as right as you can and then you have to accept that not everyone is going to be ok with it.  You can hope they see what you are trying to do, you can try to explain, but in a professional setting it isn’t really appropriate to say something like: “Well, I have been crying for six hours and that is why there are water-spots on your taffeta.  Sorry ’bout that.”  People think you are a drag (and you are).

One thing the past three weeks have taught me, though:  I will never go three weeks without checking my email again, that’s for. damn. sure.
So, you know, at least there’s that to gain from a horrible month.  Gotta hold onto something…

 

It seems like it has been a million damn years.

Tchad

What was I doing last time I wrote?

I had just gotten the call from my friend Greg’s sister.  He was in the hospital again and I was pissed.

Well, I’ve changed my tune now, that’s for sure.

See, March 6th started me on a terrible roller coaster.  I wasn’t in a great place to begin with. I have been like a schizophrenic drunk with vertigo on some horrible amusement ride.  Does that color it properly?  Yes, I believe it does.

So for a while I will write about lessons and how life kind of smacks you around a little sometimes.  I have a friend who would say: “Be more Stoic!”.  What he means is: “take it like a man”.  He doesn’t realize that if one is really being stoical he would fall on his sword tout suite.

My little ride has almost cost me a business, has worn me down to nubs I have never been worn to, and yet has still given me a couple of cherries.

Remember: It is not all bad.

Until it is.

Throughout the Summer I am going to be posting about some pretty personal stuff.  Don’t be too hard on me.  I am trying to live my life in the open and help folks out.  Don’t read it if you don’t like it.

So stay tuned and read me rant.  Hopefully I can make you laugh or think.

Or cry. Sometimes all three.

 

 

 

Done for now at least.

Tchad

My personal blog is up and running. At least I think it is. All of the posts so far have been filler to get it configured properly.

If you stumble on this and see something wrong, let me know with an email or a comment.
I am going to switch gears now and work on my other personal blogs:

 

  • Wrought: A blog about things we (as in humanity) create.
  • Potatoes… We Always Grew Our Own Potatoes: A family & Genealogy site.
  • Points of Privilege: Where I write about my experiences with social privilege and try to remember not to add a “d” in Privilege.
  • Rural Pursuits: Random research into animal husbandry and agriculture in Southern Indiana.

After I get all of my personal blogs up and running I will start adding more content and then post it to Facebook and to the Projects page at Metafilter.

Hopefully this renders properly – I have been putting it together on an old PPC Mac Powerbook G4 which has been a little draggy.

And in keeping with the theme of the blog…

Tchad

I named the blog what I did because I seem to always be surrounded by conspiracy theorists.
This may be some kind of sample error, or it may be that my sense of the crazy is heightened from growing up with them. In any case, they are steel to my magnet.

If there is someone in the room who subscribes to any number of crackpot theories (they would balk at calling them theories) they engage me in conversation, and then before I know it *BAM* “Of course that was before the Masons and Oprah started stealing all of my ideas.”

Some of these people have ended up being good friends, but I have learned not to poke the bear in the cage as far as this stuff goes.  So Oprah and why your business aren’t going well are conversationally off-limits.

I do, however, like this image and may as well throw it up while I am fixing the images on the site and getting everything in order.

stay asleep gif

Stay asleep.

First!

Tchad

I think I got this right.  At least for the time being.

There is a lot of talking to myself involved in anything web or code related, so every time I get this image when I am testing the theme for this blog, my response is “Yes, I know: Story of my life.”

Not found

Yes, well, I've known that for quite a while.

That this is said in my workrooms/offices on a Saturday late night is even more appropriate.