I promise that what I'm about to tell you is completely true. Some of these stories are funny. Some still make me angry. And some, make me sad.
The above is the original sentence to this post. In it, I detailed, sans specific names, some of the true events at the deli. But after sleeping on it, I've decided to severely amend my writing. I feel that while telling you about the everyday craziness of B.A.D. is therapy for me, it's completely unfair to the players who still live in Snyder and can't defend themselves.
So instead of giving the gorey details, here are the Cliff Notes version of some things that really happened.
The most benign might be the story of 'hicky boy.' He worked for us at the beginning. Originally, "Mando" was a customer who'd Skype with his girlfriend at our front, window table. Then, we hired him and he was fantastic. He never waited any tables, but he covered the floor like a ballerina.
Remember the girlfriend? Well, she finally came to Snyder. The employee asked for a couple days off. "Of course," we said.
He showed up for his first day back covered in hickies... huge bruises up and down both sides of his neck. To make matters worse, he was wearing our standard B.A.D. t-shirt at the time.
Then, we had the uniform destroying waitress. Again, this was benign but still unexpected. In this person's story, we gave her our initial B.A.D. t-shirt uniform. No big deal. Wear it. Keep it clean. We have more for other days.
Before we knew it, she started showing up with the sleeves cut off. Then, she'd added tassels. Then, she wore it tied just below her chest.
"Whoa! What's she doing," I asked Teresa.
"Not gonna happen here. I'll fix it."
The worker didn't like what she heard and walked out on a jam packed night.
Before or after 'Torn t-shirt girl' there was 'Stoner boy.' I'm pretty sure this kid smoked pot from waking to sleeping. Still, he was a good guy and did a pretty good job. But one day, there was a dark turn.
He showed up just out of it, kind of like he was sleep walking. With his eyes barely open, his head looked like it was attached with spaghetti. Something was completely different.
We operated with extremely hot panini grills at this time. We had sharp knives. This kid was in no shape. Meantime, we were packed.
I pulled this young man aside. Our conversation was:
"Hey... hey... hey... What are you on?"
"Nothing."
"B.S. What are you smoking?"
"I'm not smoking anything."
"You're wasted! What are you smoking."
"It doesn't smoke."
It's almost inevitable in the restaurant business for employees to not 'hook-up.' It happens. Sometimes it ends good. Sometimes it ends bad.
Two, top-shelf employees had a thing. But one night after drinking, they got into a fight.... in his truck while driving.
Both shared their version. Both showed us pictures of scratches and bruising. One quit. One didn't.
The one story that stands out the most happened in our kitchen. No one in the dining room could hear it, but the episode began during the lunch rush and exploded into explecatives with a still crowded dining room.
We had a long standing policy at B.A.D. regarding how the sandwiches were supposed to look and sound when cut in half.
But on this day, all our sourdough sandwiches were coming out less than perfect... too light... not toasted enough... one after another. Finally, I had to go into the kitchen and ask....
"Hey, what's up? All the sourdough sandwiches are coming out not done."
No answer.
"Hey! What's up?"
"What! You're F-ing color blind. You don't know what you're F-ing talking about. Get the F out of here. Get the F out!"
That employee was sent home, but returned the next day. We talked and worked things out. He had issues in his life.
The naughty nurse is a case of stubborn teenager meets Teresa. A young teen came to work for us. She was great... perfect, in fact. But after many months, she quit just to be a teenager. "Of course," we said. "Come back anytime."
She did, maybe a year later. But, she had 'blossomed.' And the rub was, she was proud of her 'blossoms.'
I gave this situation to T, who very subtly, very consistently and very often told the teen to change. Simply put, a medium sized body does not ever fit into an extra small outfit. The look just wasn't what we were serving.
Finally on Halloween, the worker showed up in a Naughty Nurse costume. Teresa took on the task again. "Go home, change and come back."
To her credit, the young lady did just that. Then the next morning, I found a handwritten note on our employee sign-in sheet. It read: "Last night was last night to work at B.A.D.... EVER!"
Those are some of the quirky issues we had at B.A.D. I'm sure I'll think of more to pass along. But the point is, we never expected the almost daily drama and crises that came with operating a small business.
Bill Robertson, Maybe next time, I'll write about the 'nose-ring boy,' the 'perpetual flirt guy,' the meat slicer accident, the 'this job is too stressful guy,' the 'I lost my paycheck girl,' the 'I'm sick again guy,' and the 'I'm getting out of jail in a few minutes. Can you give me a ride to work guy.'
Bill Robertson. I'm the old one on the right. Those are my boys, Jack & Joe. I love 'em more than they can count.
The Deli Blog-B.A.D. University
Believe it or not, we had a method to our madness at The Big Apple Deli. Our goal was pretty simple. I'd tell each new employee: "I want every customer who leaves here to say, 'The food was good. The atmosphere was fun. But I'm coming back because NO ONE'S ever kissed my ass like that.'" I'd apologize for my vulgarity, but I wanted to get my point across and in no uncertain terms.
To reach that point, every new hire got the nickel tour. We'd start at the front door. I'd literally say things like: "This is what we call the dining room. Here's our trash can. Check out the bathrooms. They're important. We always want them as clean as possible. We're on 26th street. The post office is behind the blue building. Etc, etc."
I'd explain that every time you hear the front door open, I want all employees on the floor to say "Hello, c'mon in!" I'd go on to tell them "Kinda like Cici's Pizza--just not as creepy or neurotic."
Then, I'd say, "I want every customer to feel at home like in "Cheers." That's when I'd get the look. There was not a single new hire who'd ever seen "Cheers." Not one. Still, I think I used that example for every new hire.
People got hired for a variety of positions; Kitchen, meat slicer, cook and waiter. And anyone hired to serve or who we thought had the potential to serve had to go to B.A.D. University.
The purpose for B.A.D. University was simple. We expected anyone working the floor to know their product. We expected any/all waiter(s) to be able to answer all questions regarding the menu, take the order in a well written way and not only wait on their tables but always be on the lookout for other tables who might be in want of something/anything.
The presumption being if our waiters knew their game then the customers would leave feeling their server was completely focused on them, their food and the reputation of the deli.
B.A.D. U. always started the same way. One employee and I sat the bar with lots of scrap paper. First I say, "We make sandwiches and burgers. We have a few sides & a few drinks plus beer or wine. The more you know, the more the customers thinks you care and the more they'll tip you and the more they'll enjoy their time here at the deli. Got it?"
We'd cover all our meats, cheeses and breads. We'd cover all of our sides and drinks. "We don't have Diet Dr. Pepper. You'll get asked a lot."
We'd cover what is corned beef, is our pepper jack cheese hot, what's in our deviled eggs, do we serve regular ranch and WE DON'T HAVE DIET DR. PEPPER.
The first task was to teach what I called our Cut n' Serve Sandwiches & Burgers. These were the ones that came the way they came like a Grilled Cheese, Ruben, Skinny Dipper, Hurt You Later Burger, The Duchaneaux Burger and more.
Once a server knew the Cut n' Serve, they knew to ask questions for any other sandwich or burger. For example, if you ordered a Ruben we wouldn't ask you anything. You could say you wanted a substitution, but we didn't ask. But if you wanted a Roast Beef sandwich, we asked what type of bread, any cheese and what type of condiments.
Here are some specific customer examples:
Grumpy, a.k.a. John DeLille, always ordered a Ruben. We didn't ask him anything more except what side and drink.
But Kathy Ball ordered a Rachel (Beef Pastrami, Sauerkraut, Swiss and 1,000 Island,) but she'd say "Sub mustard for the 1,000.
Jenny Wilson asked for a grilled cheese, it's a Cut n' Serve, so we didn't ask her anything more than what side and drink.
The Lily's, Troy and Triesta, usually split a Skinny Dipper, another Cut n' Serve... no questions.
Marvin Morrell liked our Tankwich. It's not a Cut n' Serve. So we asked questions. He hates lettuce. So NO LETTUCE. Although once, I gave him a bag of shredded lettuce as a joke.
Terry and Barbara Leatherwood each ordered Glendas (our second most popular sandwich.) She liked mustard. He liked mayonnaise or visa versa. I never could remember.
Jennifer Taylor always wanted a Ruben, usually a Cut n' Serve, but requested extra kraut and 1,000 on the side.
"No Tom Tommy" always got a Pig, not a Cut n' Serve. So, hold the tomatoes.
Chris and Lisa Bargas were always a wait and see. He always got the Glenda. Lisa kept us guessing except, don't mess with her iced tea.
Then there was Double Meat Durango Ted. The Durango was a Cut n' Serve, but Ted asked for double meat.
The Classic Interior Ladies (Lyn Lancaster, Brenda Billingsley and Patti Grimmett) called in three Albuquerque Turkeys. They liked them cold--not toasted. This is where we harped on knowing the customers.
Mitch from B's Beverage Barn liked his Yardbird, another Cut n' Serve. No questions necessary.
Adrienne Williams always ordered a Grilled Cheese with chips and a Dr Pepper and always on Tuesdays.
Ben Murphy generally said, "What's your special... O.K., I'll take it."
Dalton Walton always wanted our Popeye Salad (Spinach). Then he'd say, "It's too G-D big. Cut it in half." His dearly departed wife, Linda, would say, "Oh Dalton......" "What" he'd ask in between big bites. "He wants to know what I think."
This list and stories goes on and one, but the bottom line is each customer wanted what they wanted. Surprisingly, a lot of people do/did NOT like a pickle spear on the side.... even touching their food.
The ultimate hope for each B.A.D. grad was to know the menu like the back of their hand, but more importantly to know each customer.
I'm proud to say The Big Apple Deli received multiple Certificates of Excellence from TripAdvisor. Kudos to the student body.
Bill Robertson, I saw "No Tom Tommy" earlier today & played golf with "No Lettuce Marv". "Extra Kraut Jennifer" has three beautiful children. Ben's still a good friend. Good times.
To reach that point, every new hire got the nickel tour. We'd start at the front door. I'd literally say things like: "This is what we call the dining room. Here's our trash can. Check out the bathrooms. They're important. We always want them as clean as possible. We're on 26th street. The post office is behind the blue building. Etc, etc."
I'd explain that every time you hear the front door open, I want all employees on the floor to say "Hello, c'mon in!" I'd go on to tell them "Kinda like Cici's Pizza--just not as creepy or neurotic."
Then, I'd say, "I want every customer to feel at home like in "Cheers." That's when I'd get the look. There was not a single new hire who'd ever seen "Cheers." Not one. Still, I think I used that example for every new hire.
People got hired for a variety of positions; Kitchen, meat slicer, cook and waiter. And anyone hired to serve or who we thought had the potential to serve had to go to B.A.D. University.
The purpose for B.A.D. University was simple. We expected anyone working the floor to know their product. We expected any/all waiter(s) to be able to answer all questions regarding the menu, take the order in a well written way and not only wait on their tables but always be on the lookout for other tables who might be in want of something/anything.
The presumption being if our waiters knew their game then the customers would leave feeling their server was completely focused on them, their food and the reputation of the deli.
B.A.D. U. always started the same way. One employee and I sat the bar with lots of scrap paper. First I say, "We make sandwiches and burgers. We have a few sides & a few drinks plus beer or wine. The more you know, the more the customers thinks you care and the more they'll tip you and the more they'll enjoy their time here at the deli. Got it?"
We'd cover all our meats, cheeses and breads. We'd cover all of our sides and drinks. "We don't have Diet Dr. Pepper. You'll get asked a lot."
We'd cover what is corned beef, is our pepper jack cheese hot, what's in our deviled eggs, do we serve regular ranch and WE DON'T HAVE DIET DR. PEPPER.
The first task was to teach what I called our Cut n' Serve Sandwiches & Burgers. These were the ones that came the way they came like a Grilled Cheese, Ruben, Skinny Dipper, Hurt You Later Burger, The Duchaneaux Burger and more.
Once a server knew the Cut n' Serve, they knew to ask questions for any other sandwich or burger. For example, if you ordered a Ruben we wouldn't ask you anything. You could say you wanted a substitution, but we didn't ask. But if you wanted a Roast Beef sandwich, we asked what type of bread, any cheese and what type of condiments.
Here are some specific customer examples:
Grumpy, a.k.a. John DeLille, always ordered a Ruben. We didn't ask him anything more except what side and drink.
But Kathy Ball ordered a Rachel (Beef Pastrami, Sauerkraut, Swiss and 1,000 Island,) but she'd say "Sub mustard for the 1,000.
Jenny Wilson asked for a grilled cheese, it's a Cut n' Serve, so we didn't ask her anything more than what side and drink.
The Lily's, Troy and Triesta, usually split a Skinny Dipper, another Cut n' Serve... no questions.
Marvin Morrell liked our Tankwich. It's not a Cut n' Serve. So we asked questions. He hates lettuce. So NO LETTUCE. Although once, I gave him a bag of shredded lettuce as a joke.
Terry and Barbara Leatherwood each ordered Glendas (our second most popular sandwich.) She liked mustard. He liked mayonnaise or visa versa. I never could remember.
Jennifer Taylor always wanted a Ruben, usually a Cut n' Serve, but requested extra kraut and 1,000 on the side.
"No Tom Tommy" always got a Pig, not a Cut n' Serve. So, hold the tomatoes.
Chris and Lisa Bargas were always a wait and see. He always got the Glenda. Lisa kept us guessing except, don't mess with her iced tea.
Then there was Double Meat Durango Ted. The Durango was a Cut n' Serve, but Ted asked for double meat.
The Classic Interior Ladies (Lyn Lancaster, Brenda Billingsley and Patti Grimmett) called in three Albuquerque Turkeys. They liked them cold--not toasted. This is where we harped on knowing the customers.
Mitch from B's Beverage Barn liked his Yardbird, another Cut n' Serve. No questions necessary.
Adrienne Williams always ordered a Grilled Cheese with chips and a Dr Pepper and always on Tuesdays.
Ben Murphy generally said, "What's your special... O.K., I'll take it."
Dalton Walton always wanted our Popeye Salad (Spinach). Then he'd say, "It's too G-D big. Cut it in half." His dearly departed wife, Linda, would say, "Oh Dalton......" "What" he'd ask in between big bites. "He wants to know what I think."
This list and stories goes on and one, but the bottom line is each customer wanted what they wanted. Surprisingly, a lot of people do/did NOT like a pickle spear on the side.... even touching their food.
The ultimate hope for each B.A.D. grad was to know the menu like the back of their hand, but more importantly to know each customer.
I'm proud to say The Big Apple Deli received multiple Certificates of Excellence from TripAdvisor. Kudos to the student body.
Bill Robertson, I saw "No Tom Tommy" earlier today & played golf with "No Lettuce Marv". "Extra Kraut Jennifer" has three beautiful children. Ben's still a good friend. Good times.
The Deli Blog-The Good Ones
The old saying goes, Good Help is Hard to Find. Truer words were never spoken. We had no idea when going into the food business the aggravation we'd face when it came to hiring, firing, training and retaining employees.
Over the course of our eight year run, I suspect we had upwards of 75-100 employees. I never suspected that type of turnover. I'm torn whether to share some of our horror stories. I probably will soon, but I'm debating what good it'll do. The only summary I come to is... that you the reader will likely finish reading that blog with the exclamation.... OMG!
So, I'll tell you about the good ones for now. They met the following criteria everyday: 1) Always on time 2) Could find something to do 3) Tried to help others and 4) Team player. That's all we expected. Of the 75-100 previous B.A.D. employees, Teresa and I can think of seven who met those benchmarks. They are:
Brodie Calley
Martin Edwards
Ashley Jenkins
Marcos Rios
Robbin Smith
Alex Dreith
Pat McInerney
Brodie was one of our original B.A.D. guys. It was a long time ago, but I remember he was never late and he could do absolutely everything. He was 16 years old at the time and I was comfortable leaving him the keys. I think what impressed me the most was he was smart. He had goals. And, he was completely comfortable in his skin.
I remember visiting with Brodie during the interview process, but before I hired anyone. He had his boots up in a chair with a real 'I could sit here all day long' look on his face.
"Whatcha think," I asked.
"I'm wondering if I want to work here."
"Oh," thinking don't let the door hit you.
"I think I do."
Update: Brodie married last year. He has his degree from Texas Tech. He and his wife have returned to Scurry County. I always told him that he should be mayor of Snyder.
Martin might be the most honest, hard-working man I've ever met. If y'all don't know Martin from the deli, you might know him as the 'guy who walks everywhere in Snyder.' To say Martin and his wife, Rachel, have less than a few nickels to rub together is a tremendous understatement.
He and Rachel came in one day during lunch. Over the counter, I think I asked "What can we do for you?"
"I need a job," he said.
"Leave your name and number with Teresa."
The guy looked rough. We didn't really need anyone at that time. And, he hit me up for work during our lunch hour. As far as I was concerned, I wasn't very interested.
That evening, Teresa asked "did you call that man.... the guy who came in at lunch asking for a job?"
"No."
"I think you should. He seemed honest and really sincere."
One thing led to another, and Martin came to work at B.A.D. In fact, he was the last employee out the door after we closed.
Martin was the type who made it easier on everyone else and because he did, most everyone else took advantage of him.
His idea of on time was at least one hour early for work everyday. By the time all the others showed up, usually late, he'd already done all their pre-opening chores. He was also the type we could count on to never complain about staying late.
Staff wise tardiness to work became such an issue that I offered 'on-time' incentives. The last one was: Show up early to work, clock-in no more than 10-minutes early and we'll pay your hourly wage for every one of those minutes you're early.
Martin was the only employee in the year and a half of that incentive to ever get the 'early pay.' The only one!!!
Update: Martin's now working at another local restaurant. Rachel's been at United going on four years. They have a car, but only Rachel drives. Martin's a friend to us and many of his former B.A.D. customers.
Ashley's interview started with, "You may recognize me. I was homecoming queen at Snyder High."
I don't know if she'd waited tables before or just came from good family stock, but she hit the floor running. Nothing was too much trouble for Ashley. I saw her once wait on the entire dining room when the person who was supposed to be manager-on-duty called in sick.
She knew practically everyone in town, didn't gossip about them and treated all of them as special.
She graduated, went off to college but would return for school breaks and summer. We always breathed a little easier when we knew Ashley was working.
We had a saying when counting who was working the floor on any particular day. We'd count the individuals, but when we got to Ashley we'd say, 'she counts as two.'
Update: Ashley received her teaching degree from Texas Tech University. She now teaches at Snyder Christian School, recently engaged, and scheduled to marry this year.
Marcos was our 'singing waiter' and he was really, really good at doing both jobs simultaneously. Marcos started at the coffeehouse and then moved to the deli. He'd never waited tables, but you'd never guess it. He actually studied the menu! Wow! What a concept.
I don't know how Marcos started singing at the deli, but he soon became a regular at lunch. He'd wait tables, take the stage, wait tables, and take the stage. It was not uncommon to hear him holler out in mid-song: "Table three! Need anything? Is your tea okay?"
Marcos will tell you, He'll tell anybody that he's faced down his demons. We were indeed blessed to be part of that successful journey.
Update: Marcos is now a traveling singer/songwriter and film maker. If he's not in Snyder, he's in Austin. Check him out on Face book.
Robbin rose from very quiet coffeehouse barista to complete family friend and wonderful assistant. She's tackled every job from making espresso to payroll to the IRS. In a simple sentence: Robbin Smith saved our fannies. "Thank you" written in all caps and on any blackboard 1,000 times is not enough.
Update: Robbin's still with us working as our family's comptroller, friend, and voice of reason. She's also a dispatcher with the Scurry County Sheriff's Office. Such a calm voice.
Alex, the waiter with the "X" factor. I can't explain it. It's just "X" and Alex had it in spades. Alex worked for us while he attended WTC. I remember a consummate team player. Everyone liked Alex, but he never let that interfere with what we expected while he was on the clock. Even when he did venture beyond the typical waiter mode, like Karaoke night, he brought down the house.
Alex became known as "Sweet Caroline" man. He'd take the stage every Thursday Karaoke Night with his rendition of Neil Diamond's "Sweet Caroline." Before we knew it, customers were standing, cheering, and of course singing.... "So GOOD! So GOOD!" When he was done singing and the crowd done cheering, Alex would go back to work.
Update: Alex left B.A.D. and Snyder. He's joined the corporate word. He jetted off to SoCal for awhile. Now, he's back in the St. Louis area. Go Cards!
Finally, Pat. We called him Mr. Pat because he was 70+ years old. He started as a friend to Teresa and myself. Then, he became a regular afternoon customer. Then, I asked him, "Mr. Pat, would you come work for us a couple of times a week?"
"Doing what?"
"Just being you."
"Whatcha gonna pay me?"
"Whatcha want?"
"Two Guinness and $20 per shift. I can work Monday, Wednesday and Friday 11:00-1:00p."
"Hired!"
Mr. Pat was great for a lot of reasons but mostly because he gave a damn about people. He was already serving "Meals on Wheels" and driving the Scurry County Senior Center Bus. He cared. And because he was older, he treated men like gentlemen and women like ladies. He took care of people, young and old. He also had the wonderful ability to corral the younger staff and get them to take on projects they'd normally just walk on by without noticing.
He was ALL Irish and ALL Chicago. He loved his Bears and gave me constant grief about my Saints.
Update: Pat and his wife, Patsy, left Snyder for Olney, TX. Now, they're in Houston. We haven't seen them in awhile, but sure miss them.
So, those are the good ones. I guess 7 out of 75-100 isn't too bad. It's about 10%, right? A lot of others came close to making the 'good ones' list, but fell short for a variety of reasons. The thing T & I have noticed is that the "Good Help is Hard to Find" saying is applicable to more than just Snyder. We've traveled a lot. And many times, we've had to admit: "See, it's not just Snyder that has employment problems."
Bill Robertson, Thanks y'all! The others spiked my blood pressure, but we counted on each of you more than we can explain.
Over the course of our eight year run, I suspect we had upwards of 75-100 employees. I never suspected that type of turnover. I'm torn whether to share some of our horror stories. I probably will soon, but I'm debating what good it'll do. The only summary I come to is... that you the reader will likely finish reading that blog with the exclamation.... OMG!
So, I'll tell you about the good ones for now. They met the following criteria everyday: 1) Always on time 2) Could find something to do 3) Tried to help others and 4) Team player. That's all we expected. Of the 75-100 previous B.A.D. employees, Teresa and I can think of seven who met those benchmarks. They are:
Brodie Calley
Martin Edwards
Ashley Jenkins
Marcos Rios
Robbin Smith
Alex Dreith
Pat McInerney
Brodie was one of our original B.A.D. guys. It was a long time ago, but I remember he was never late and he could do absolutely everything. He was 16 years old at the time and I was comfortable leaving him the keys. I think what impressed me the most was he was smart. He had goals. And, he was completely comfortable in his skin.
I remember visiting with Brodie during the interview process, but before I hired anyone. He had his boots up in a chair with a real 'I could sit here all day long' look on his face.
"Whatcha think," I asked.
"I'm wondering if I want to work here."
"Oh," thinking don't let the door hit you.
"I think I do."
Update: Brodie married last year. He has his degree from Texas Tech. He and his wife have returned to Scurry County. I always told him that he should be mayor of Snyder.
Martin might be the most honest, hard-working man I've ever met. If y'all don't know Martin from the deli, you might know him as the 'guy who walks everywhere in Snyder.' To say Martin and his wife, Rachel, have less than a few nickels to rub together is a tremendous understatement.
He and Rachel came in one day during lunch. Over the counter, I think I asked "What can we do for you?"
"I need a job," he said.
"Leave your name and number with Teresa."
The guy looked rough. We didn't really need anyone at that time. And, he hit me up for work during our lunch hour. As far as I was concerned, I wasn't very interested.
That evening, Teresa asked "did you call that man.... the guy who came in at lunch asking for a job?"
"No."
"I think you should. He seemed honest and really sincere."
One thing led to another, and Martin came to work at B.A.D. In fact, he was the last employee out the door after we closed.
Martin was the type who made it easier on everyone else and because he did, most everyone else took advantage of him.
His idea of on time was at least one hour early for work everyday. By the time all the others showed up, usually late, he'd already done all their pre-opening chores. He was also the type we could count on to never complain about staying late.
Staff wise tardiness to work became such an issue that I offered 'on-time' incentives. The last one was: Show up early to work, clock-in no more than 10-minutes early and we'll pay your hourly wage for every one of those minutes you're early.
Martin was the only employee in the year and a half of that incentive to ever get the 'early pay.' The only one!!!
Update: Martin's now working at another local restaurant. Rachel's been at United going on four years. They have a car, but only Rachel drives. Martin's a friend to us and many of his former B.A.D. customers.
Ashley's interview started with, "You may recognize me. I was homecoming queen at Snyder High."
I don't know if she'd waited tables before or just came from good family stock, but she hit the floor running. Nothing was too much trouble for Ashley. I saw her once wait on the entire dining room when the person who was supposed to be manager-on-duty called in sick.
She knew practically everyone in town, didn't gossip about them and treated all of them as special.
She graduated, went off to college but would return for school breaks and summer. We always breathed a little easier when we knew Ashley was working.
We had a saying when counting who was working the floor on any particular day. We'd count the individuals, but when we got to Ashley we'd say, 'she counts as two.'
Update: Ashley received her teaching degree from Texas Tech University. She now teaches at Snyder Christian School, recently engaged, and scheduled to marry this year.
Marcos was our 'singing waiter' and he was really, really good at doing both jobs simultaneously. Marcos started at the coffeehouse and then moved to the deli. He'd never waited tables, but you'd never guess it. He actually studied the menu! Wow! What a concept.
I don't know how Marcos started singing at the deli, but he soon became a regular at lunch. He'd wait tables, take the stage, wait tables, and take the stage. It was not uncommon to hear him holler out in mid-song: "Table three! Need anything? Is your tea okay?"
Marcos will tell you, He'll tell anybody that he's faced down his demons. We were indeed blessed to be part of that successful journey.
Update: Marcos is now a traveling singer/songwriter and film maker. If he's not in Snyder, he's in Austin. Check him out on Face book.
Robbin rose from very quiet coffeehouse barista to complete family friend and wonderful assistant. She's tackled every job from making espresso to payroll to the IRS. In a simple sentence: Robbin Smith saved our fannies. "Thank you" written in all caps and on any blackboard 1,000 times is not enough.
Update: Robbin's still with us working as our family's comptroller, friend, and voice of reason. She's also a dispatcher with the Scurry County Sheriff's Office. Such a calm voice.
Alex, the waiter with the "X" factor. I can't explain it. It's just "X" and Alex had it in spades. Alex worked for us while he attended WTC. I remember a consummate team player. Everyone liked Alex, but he never let that interfere with what we expected while he was on the clock. Even when he did venture beyond the typical waiter mode, like Karaoke night, he brought down the house.
Alex became known as "Sweet Caroline" man. He'd take the stage every Thursday Karaoke Night with his rendition of Neil Diamond's "Sweet Caroline." Before we knew it, customers were standing, cheering, and of course singing.... "So GOOD! So GOOD!" When he was done singing and the crowd done cheering, Alex would go back to work.
Update: Alex left B.A.D. and Snyder. He's joined the corporate word. He jetted off to SoCal for awhile. Now, he's back in the St. Louis area. Go Cards!
Finally, Pat. We called him Mr. Pat because he was 70+ years old. He started as a friend to Teresa and myself. Then, he became a regular afternoon customer. Then, I asked him, "Mr. Pat, would you come work for us a couple of times a week?"
"Doing what?"
"Just being you."
"Whatcha gonna pay me?"
"Whatcha want?"
"Two Guinness and $20 per shift. I can work Monday, Wednesday and Friday 11:00-1:00p."
"Hired!"
Mr. Pat was great for a lot of reasons but mostly because he gave a damn about people. He was already serving "Meals on Wheels" and driving the Scurry County Senior Center Bus. He cared. And because he was older, he treated men like gentlemen and women like ladies. He took care of people, young and old. He also had the wonderful ability to corral the younger staff and get them to take on projects they'd normally just walk on by without noticing.
He was ALL Irish and ALL Chicago. He loved his Bears and gave me constant grief about my Saints.
Update: Pat and his wife, Patsy, left Snyder for Olney, TX. Now, they're in Houston. We haven't seen them in awhile, but sure miss them.
So, those are the good ones. I guess 7 out of 75-100 isn't too bad. It's about 10%, right? A lot of others came close to making the 'good ones' list, but fell short for a variety of reasons. The thing T & I have noticed is that the "Good Help is Hard to Find" saying is applicable to more than just Snyder. We've traveled a lot. And many times, we've had to admit: "See, it's not just Snyder that has employment problems."
Bill Robertson, Thanks y'all! The others spiked my blood pressure, but we counted on each of you more than we can explain.
The Deli Blog-Trivia
The old saying is: For every action there is a reaction. You might say that adage was the genesis for Tuesday Night Trivia at The Big Apple Deli. If not that saying, you could also say we were dying on the vine, especially on Tuesdays, and we needed something/anything to at least break even.
Tuesday Night Trivia began with my boys, Jack and Joe. They were visiting. We were talking. I was telling them that I needed an idea to boost business, especially on Tuesday nights.
"Trivia!" they both said at practically the same time.
"Trivia? You mean that type at Buffalo Wild Wings with the boxes and the TV monitors?"
"No. It's just different categories with about five questions," Jack said.
"There are teams. They can't use their phones," Joe followed up.
"Where I go, it's packed every Trivia night."
"We get there early just to get a table," Joe followed up again.
"How long does it last?"
"Usually about an hour," from Jack.
"Try five categories with five questions," Joe followed up again.
"What about a tie?"
"Teams have to predict their scores before hand. Closest to that point total without going over wins!" Joe led this time.
"Like the Price is Right?"
"We don't watch the Price is Right Dad," from Jack.
Thus, the birth of Tuesday Night Trivia at The Big Apple Deli. It started slow with only a few teams but at its peak, we had a standing room only crowd with 10 to 12 teams ranging from two or three members to teams of six, seven or eight. I'd make up the questions. Sometimes my friend "Magic Marvin" would offer a couple of categories. Our friends Toby and Stephanie Duchenaux would help. Stephanie and Teresa would keep score. Toby would bartend.
The categories and questions ran the gamut. Teresa gave me lots of her fifth grade books like: Presidents of the United States, The Planets of our Solar System and Women in U.S. History. Marvin contributed questions ranging from "Batman" to "Zorro", fun pop culture stuff. Others topics included: "Who am I?," sports, The Academy Awards, famous movie quotes and more.
It didn't take us long to get into a groove and push the envelope. Before we knew it, we'd play "name the next line." That's where I'd play a snippet of music, stop the music and ask; "What's the next line."
One week, I found an old CD of nursery rhyme songs. That proved challenging. Keep in mind most of our crowd was older and drinking beer.
One of our more techo challenging topics was decipher the beer top. Lone Star Beer puts a puzzle inside each of its bottle top lids. They put them all on their website. So, we configured a way to show the puzzles on our big screen, gave teams about 15 seconds to see each puzzle and then asked: "Can you solve the puzzle"?
One of my most memorable was on the topic of observation. The idea came to me in the days before trivia. I think one of our employees had come to me with....
"Hey Bill. My customers are asking where's our courthouse. Where is it?"
"Uh, really?"
"Yeah, they're from out of town and they like to see old courthouses. What should I tell them?"
"Seriously? You're from Snyder, right?"
"Yes and YES!"
"Ok. Turn around and look out our front windows. See that big building across the street?"
"Yes."
"That's the Scurry County Courthouse... our courthouse."
"No way!"
"Way."
That lack of observation or absolute stupidity, I'm not sure which, spawned my "Observation" category.
I asked questions like: "If you're standing at College and 37th street and facing north, what's the building behind Gill's Fried Chicken. But my favorite question was: "Name the price of a Big Mac within 10-cents." Only one team got it correct.
We got to know the teams like regulars, most of them were anyway. But many times, Tuesday Trivia would bring in people we'd never seen and they'd return but only for trivia.
We had "The Honey Badgers," made of Western Texas College faculty and administrators, "The Snow Monkeys," who were two good guys who gave just about everybody a run for their money and "The Saints and Sinners," led by a local minister who once I had to apologize for the topics. Plus, there were many, many more. By the way, the "Honey Badgers" were the only team to get the correct answer for the Big Mac question.
A fun game always comes with a prize. For many weeks, we felt obligated to offer gift certificates to the first, second and third place teams. Unfortunately, we found out that was costing us a fortune. So about mid-day in the life of trivia, we, with the help of Mike Thornton from WTC, created the B.A.D. Trivia Trophy. It was a giant question mark outlined in bling. Winner got their picture taken with the trophy and their team name on the trophy till the next week.
In the end, Tuesday Night Trivia at The Big Apple Deli lasted quite awhile, maybe a year or more. Time took it's toll, but we'll always be thankful for the many folks who took about an hour out of their week to come to B.A.D. and help us out.
Bill Robertson, an old orchestra conductor in Charleston, WVA once told me: "Trivia is just a young person's way of looking at history."
Tuesday Night Trivia began with my boys, Jack and Joe. They were visiting. We were talking. I was telling them that I needed an idea to boost business, especially on Tuesday nights.
"Trivia!" they both said at practically the same time.
"Trivia? You mean that type at Buffalo Wild Wings with the boxes and the TV monitors?"
"No. It's just different categories with about five questions," Jack said.
"There are teams. They can't use their phones," Joe followed up.
"Where I go, it's packed every Trivia night."
"We get there early just to get a table," Joe followed up again.
"How long does it last?"
"Usually about an hour," from Jack.
"Try five categories with five questions," Joe followed up again.
"What about a tie?"
"Teams have to predict their scores before hand. Closest to that point total without going over wins!" Joe led this time.
"Like the Price is Right?"
"We don't watch the Price is Right Dad," from Jack.
Thus, the birth of Tuesday Night Trivia at The Big Apple Deli. It started slow with only a few teams but at its peak, we had a standing room only crowd with 10 to 12 teams ranging from two or three members to teams of six, seven or eight. I'd make up the questions. Sometimes my friend "Magic Marvin" would offer a couple of categories. Our friends Toby and Stephanie Duchenaux would help. Stephanie and Teresa would keep score. Toby would bartend.
The categories and questions ran the gamut. Teresa gave me lots of her fifth grade books like: Presidents of the United States, The Planets of our Solar System and Women in U.S. History. Marvin contributed questions ranging from "Batman" to "Zorro", fun pop culture stuff. Others topics included: "Who am I?," sports, The Academy Awards, famous movie quotes and more.
It didn't take us long to get into a groove and push the envelope. Before we knew it, we'd play "name the next line." That's where I'd play a snippet of music, stop the music and ask; "What's the next line."
One week, I found an old CD of nursery rhyme songs. That proved challenging. Keep in mind most of our crowd was older and drinking beer.
One of our more techo challenging topics was decipher the beer top. Lone Star Beer puts a puzzle inside each of its bottle top lids. They put them all on their website. So, we configured a way to show the puzzles on our big screen, gave teams about 15 seconds to see each puzzle and then asked: "Can you solve the puzzle"?
One of my most memorable was on the topic of observation. The idea came to me in the days before trivia. I think one of our employees had come to me with....
"Hey Bill. My customers are asking where's our courthouse. Where is it?"
"Uh, really?"
"Yeah, they're from out of town and they like to see old courthouses. What should I tell them?"
"Seriously? You're from Snyder, right?"
"Yes and YES!"
"Ok. Turn around and look out our front windows. See that big building across the street?"
"Yes."
"That's the Scurry County Courthouse... our courthouse."
"No way!"
"Way."
That lack of observation or absolute stupidity, I'm not sure which, spawned my "Observation" category.
I asked questions like: "If you're standing at College and 37th street and facing north, what's the building behind Gill's Fried Chicken. But my favorite question was: "Name the price of a Big Mac within 10-cents." Only one team got it correct.
We got to know the teams like regulars, most of them were anyway. But many times, Tuesday Trivia would bring in people we'd never seen and they'd return but only for trivia.
We had "The Honey Badgers," made of Western Texas College faculty and administrators, "The Snow Monkeys," who were two good guys who gave just about everybody a run for their money and "The Saints and Sinners," led by a local minister who once I had to apologize for the topics. Plus, there were many, many more. By the way, the "Honey Badgers" were the only team to get the correct answer for the Big Mac question.
A fun game always comes with a prize. For many weeks, we felt obligated to offer gift certificates to the first, second and third place teams. Unfortunately, we found out that was costing us a fortune. So about mid-day in the life of trivia, we, with the help of Mike Thornton from WTC, created the B.A.D. Trivia Trophy. It was a giant question mark outlined in bling. Winner got their picture taken with the trophy and their team name on the trophy till the next week.
In the end, Tuesday Night Trivia at The Big Apple Deli lasted quite awhile, maybe a year or more. Time took it's toll, but we'll always be thankful for the many folks who took about an hour out of their week to come to B.A.D. and help us out.
Bill Robertson, an old orchestra conductor in Charleston, WVA once told me: "Trivia is just a young person's way of looking at history."
Spring Break 2018 Blog
Hi folks. I've been away from the keyboard for a bit to make time for Spring Break 2018 although we didn't go anywhere and it's not yet spring in west Texas.
Not that I'm complaining, but spring break these days resembles nothing of spring break(s) a few years ago to many years ago.
First of all, long gone are the days of cramming a dozen friends into a beat-up sedan, road tripping to the beach and then cramming your sedan of friends plus your buddy's sedan full of friends into a tiny motel room on the beach. Those were great times, but nowadays I'm pretty sure I'd rather go to the dentist.
Not so long gone are the days of cramming all my kids into our older model mini-van and heading to the beach or sometimes mountains. We had one of those Pontiac mini-vans. The kind with the long snout. It was called an APV, which we figured meant All Plastic Vehicle.
The kids were five through 12 ish and happy and excited to be getting out of town. We always had a good time and a great many memories, but each trip included pre and post vacation chaos and me almost always paralyzed over how were we going to pay for this planned fun and an almost debilitating fear of losing my children. I can't explain it.
Now, it's different. Teresa and I are both over our reckless road trip days and our kids have all outgrown the need for vacation chauffeurs. You might say T & I are now in the 'going to grandma's house' category to which I suspect most kids over 13ish say, "oh NO!" Thank goodness our little visitors still think Meme and Booger are worth a visit.
This year, Teresa's daughter, Ashton Patton, and her young family came our way. There's Ashton, her husband Bobby and the two kids, Carson and Avery. They visit quite a lot considering they live in Arizona and they mostly drive to see us.
They always amaze me a little. I think it's their consistent mellowness that I find both wonderful and confusing. It's wonderful because when they visit, it's not just about coming to grandma's house. It's also about going to grandpa's house, brother's house, half brother's house, aunt's house, uncle's house. Still, they show up... never rushed... stay, visit, eat, nap, play, eat some more, clean-up and go and come back and go and come back and go and come back.
It's their calmness that I'd call wonderful. It's that same calmness that I find confusing. Because folks, I'll be honest with you. I'd likely kill someone if I had to do as much traveling, visiting and moving around as the Patton family. But they do it and none of them ever flinch or appear rushed or makes us feel rushed.
For a little icing on the cake this spring break, we capped everything with a giant birthday party for our one year old granddaughter, Tillie Ann. She's Cody and Kayci's youngest. Mom and Dad threw her a giant festivus here at the ranch. We had kids of all sizes running and playing, laughing and crying. A good time was had by all.
Bill Robertson, I sewn enough oats and paid for enough vacations to enjoy being at grandma's house. I like grandma, a.k.a. Meme.
Not that I'm complaining, but spring break these days resembles nothing of spring break(s) a few years ago to many years ago.
First of all, long gone are the days of cramming a dozen friends into a beat-up sedan, road tripping to the beach and then cramming your sedan of friends plus your buddy's sedan full of friends into a tiny motel room on the beach. Those were great times, but nowadays I'm pretty sure I'd rather go to the dentist.
Not so long gone are the days of cramming all my kids into our older model mini-van and heading to the beach or sometimes mountains. We had one of those Pontiac mini-vans. The kind with the long snout. It was called an APV, which we figured meant All Plastic Vehicle.
The kids were five through 12 ish and happy and excited to be getting out of town. We always had a good time and a great many memories, but each trip included pre and post vacation chaos and me almost always paralyzed over how were we going to pay for this planned fun and an almost debilitating fear of losing my children. I can't explain it.
Now, it's different. Teresa and I are both over our reckless road trip days and our kids have all outgrown the need for vacation chauffeurs. You might say T & I are now in the 'going to grandma's house' category to which I suspect most kids over 13ish say, "oh NO!" Thank goodness our little visitors still think Meme and Booger are worth a visit.
This year, Teresa's daughter, Ashton Patton, and her young family came our way. There's Ashton, her husband Bobby and the two kids, Carson and Avery. They visit quite a lot considering they live in Arizona and they mostly drive to see us.
They always amaze me a little. I think it's their consistent mellowness that I find both wonderful and confusing. It's wonderful because when they visit, it's not just about coming to grandma's house. It's also about going to grandpa's house, brother's house, half brother's house, aunt's house, uncle's house. Still, they show up... never rushed... stay, visit, eat, nap, play, eat some more, clean-up and go and come back and go and come back and go and come back.
It's their calmness that I'd call wonderful. It's that same calmness that I find confusing. Because folks, I'll be honest with you. I'd likely kill someone if I had to do as much traveling, visiting and moving around as the Patton family. But they do it and none of them ever flinch or appear rushed or makes us feel rushed.
For a little icing on the cake this spring break, we capped everything with a giant birthday party for our one year old granddaughter, Tillie Ann. She's Cody and Kayci's youngest. Mom and Dad threw her a giant festivus here at the ranch. We had kids of all sizes running and playing, laughing and crying. A good time was had by all.
Bill Robertson, I sewn enough oats and paid for enough vacations to enjoy being at grandma's house. I like grandma, a.k.a. Meme.
The Deli-Blog #5 (Karaoke)
We started with Pandora. Then, we added live music. Then, we thought Karaoke would be a good idea. And, it was--for a short while at least.
Our Karaoke night began in the waning years of the deli but before we eliminated our night time hours. We needed a cash infusion. We thought we'd spend a little on a Karaoke D-J and make bank on the business. And, that's exactly what happened. Like anything new, our Thursday night sing-a-long started slow, but quickly drew to a packed house with some talented and some not so talented singers.
Our Master of Ceremonies was non other than Elvis, aka Mike McLeod. He'd sound check every Thursday night with the real Elvis' "You Gave Me A Mountain." To this day, that song, even sung by Snyder's favorite jeweler, still gives me chills.
Karaoke started on our outdoor stage. I think I sang the first song, "You Light Up My Life," to Teresa. I was terrible. Shortly after that first night, Karaoke graduated to our indoor stage and exploded as the place to be in Snyder on a Thursday night.
Like I said, we had some good performers. They were young and old. One of my favorite memories is of young Walker Wilson at age five singing at his dad's birthday party.
Probably the best performer was a surprise to all of us. Not because he was really good, but because no one in Snyder had seen him in years. His name is/was Lloyd.
Lloyd walked in out of the blue and took the stage. I was told he was a local guy, but left Snyder many years ago for life on the west coast. I guess Lloyd came back for a few weeks to see family and found us. He sang and dazzled the crowd with unexpected costumes and even Elvis type moves for about three weekends in a row and then poof... he was gone.
Besides Lloyd, there was the crowd pleasing Alex Dreith, son of Snyder's friend Mike Dreith. Alex was working at the deli at the time, but our policy was if you wanted to perform... perform.
Alex's golden nugget was "Sweet Caroline." He'd take to the stage, completely off key, but by the time he hit the chorus, the standing room only crowd would be on their feet singing along to "Sweet Caroline... Good times never seemed so good (SO GOOD! SO GOOD!)."
"Big A" unfortunately didn't last long at B.A.D. He had bigger plans and he was/is surely missed. We wish you well Alex. You had the "X" factor in customer service.
One of the good ones who later kind of wore us out because it was week, after week, after week was Big Juan with his rendition of the Los Lobos song ""Heaven," which begins with the declaration VAMANOS!
Big Juan sang each Thursday and always started with VA-MA-NOS! It was so loud the speakers cracked. Still, Juan came back into the boundaries of reasonable volume and really did a nice job on the rest of "Heaven."
I guess the wearing out part came from the same songs each week for many, many weeks. Some were pretty good the first 10 or 20 times but after that, we all kind of huddled behind the deli counter and just waited for the next singer.
Some singers though just weren't that good the first time or the second or the 15th time. In particular, an extra exhilarated grandmother gave us all the 'OMG, when's she gonna finish' vide. If her singing wasn't bad enough her bumping and grinding was a little out of everyone's comfort zone. And to add salt to the wound, she'd not only get up on stage multiple times throughout the night, but she'd also show up just about each Thursday. You could almost hear a collective "bless her heart" whispered throughout the audience. Still, we had to admire her spunk.
The deli's Thursday night Karaoke ran its course and ultimately died on the vine. Elvis, aka Mike, is still D-J'ing in the area and still operating his jewelry store in Snyder. Lil' Walker Wilson is now a sixth grader and quite the young man. Flamboyant Lloyd disappeared as quickly as he showed up. Big Juan had a heart attack but last I heard he was recovering. Alex joined the corporate ranks and I'm sure is on his way to the top of the heap. As for the spunky grandmother..... Well, bless her heart.
Bill Robertson, Karaoke was a money maker but Tuesday Night Trivia was an absolute mint. Pictures included.
Our Karaoke night began in the waning years of the deli but before we eliminated our night time hours. We needed a cash infusion. We thought we'd spend a little on a Karaoke D-J and make bank on the business. And, that's exactly what happened. Like anything new, our Thursday night sing-a-long started slow, but quickly drew to a packed house with some talented and some not so talented singers.
Our Master of Ceremonies was non other than Elvis, aka Mike McLeod. He'd sound check every Thursday night with the real Elvis' "You Gave Me A Mountain." To this day, that song, even sung by Snyder's favorite jeweler, still gives me chills.
Karaoke started on our outdoor stage. I think I sang the first song, "You Light Up My Life," to Teresa. I was terrible. Shortly after that first night, Karaoke graduated to our indoor stage and exploded as the place to be in Snyder on a Thursday night.
Like I said, we had some good performers. They were young and old. One of my favorite memories is of young Walker Wilson at age five singing at his dad's birthday party.
Probably the best performer was a surprise to all of us. Not because he was really good, but because no one in Snyder had seen him in years. His name is/was Lloyd.
Lloyd walked in out of the blue and took the stage. I was told he was a local guy, but left Snyder many years ago for life on the west coast. I guess Lloyd came back for a few weeks to see family and found us. He sang and dazzled the crowd with unexpected costumes and even Elvis type moves for about three weekends in a row and then poof... he was gone.
Besides Lloyd, there was the crowd pleasing Alex Dreith, son of Snyder's friend Mike Dreith. Alex was working at the deli at the time, but our policy was if you wanted to perform... perform.
Alex's golden nugget was "Sweet Caroline." He'd take to the stage, completely off key, but by the time he hit the chorus, the standing room only crowd would be on their feet singing along to "Sweet Caroline... Good times never seemed so good (SO GOOD! SO GOOD!)."
"Big A" unfortunately didn't last long at B.A.D. He had bigger plans and he was/is surely missed. We wish you well Alex. You had the "X" factor in customer service.
One of the good ones who later kind of wore us out because it was week, after week, after week was Big Juan with his rendition of the Los Lobos song ""Heaven," which begins with the declaration VAMANOS!
Big Juan sang each Thursday and always started with VA-MA-NOS! It was so loud the speakers cracked. Still, Juan came back into the boundaries of reasonable volume and really did a nice job on the rest of "Heaven."
I guess the wearing out part came from the same songs each week for many, many weeks. Some were pretty good the first 10 or 20 times but after that, we all kind of huddled behind the deli counter and just waited for the next singer.
Some singers though just weren't that good the first time or the second or the 15th time. In particular, an extra exhilarated grandmother gave us all the 'OMG, when's she gonna finish' vide. If her singing wasn't bad enough her bumping and grinding was a little out of everyone's comfort zone. And to add salt to the wound, she'd not only get up on stage multiple times throughout the night, but she'd also show up just about each Thursday. You could almost hear a collective "bless her heart" whispered throughout the audience. Still, we had to admire her spunk.
The deli's Thursday night Karaoke ran its course and ultimately died on the vine. Elvis, aka Mike, is still D-J'ing in the area and still operating his jewelry store in Snyder. Lil' Walker Wilson is now a sixth grader and quite the young man. Flamboyant Lloyd disappeared as quickly as he showed up. Big Juan had a heart attack but last I heard he was recovering. Alex joined the corporate ranks and I'm sure is on his way to the top of the heap. As for the spunky grandmother..... Well, bless her heart.
Bill Robertson, Karaoke was a money maker but Tuesday Night Trivia was an absolute mint. Pictures included.
The Deli-Blog #4 (Singing & Dancing at B.A.D.)
I definitely should've kept a daily journal of the deli's comings and goings. There are so many stories to tell you, but after being closed for almost two years--I'm struggling to know where to go.
One of the most important things to me when we started B.A.D. was the music. I wanted good old fashioned rock n' roll to continually waft over our customers. I'm 55 years old now. So when we began, I was in my late 40s and a hard core 70s and 80s rock kind of guy. So that's what I wanted playing without interruption.
First, we managed that with an iPad that mysteriously disappeared. Then, we went to Pandora. First, I went the cheap way. Then, we paid for a the advertise-less subscription. For diversity, the programmed channels ranged from rock n' roll to opera to show tunes to country rock. I really wanted our customers to tap their heels while they visited with us.
One thing that I insisted was, the music must be diverse. I never wanted too much of any genre. In particular, I didn't want too much country music. Sorry folks, but C&W's just not my thing. I even posted a big sign by our computer in the office that read:
"Don't touch the music! I like country but in small doses. This means you! Don't change my Pandora stations!"
Besides our 'canned' music, we offered a ton of live shows. The initial thought came from Teresa. She'd been to Lubbock to take her dad, Sam to the doctor, and said there was a fella playing the piano at Market Street. She said, "That was so nice." "Okay, let's try it," I said.
The acts ranged from hard rock to Texas songwriters. We had so many good bands thanks to a great booking agent out of Midland. A few of them definitely stand out.
The first group, whose name I can't recall, played seriously hard rock n' roll. Geez, it was loud. They played on our back patio. Besides the packed back area, folks were sitting in their truck beds just jamming to the tunes. I have no idea what the lyrics were but the crowd loved them. I remember the lead singer was about seven feet tall and worked at a sign shop in Sweetwater. I heard he got married. I remember thinking, geez I hope she's not short.
A group that I thought was great was the "Tone Pilots" out of San Angelo. They were older guys. They had real jobs. The lead singer used a remote amp and microphone. His name was Dan. He'd start on the inside stage and then walk outside on the sidewalk while singing and playing. But the icing on the cake was their blind saxophone player. "Geez, I hope he doesn't fall off the stage," I'd say to Teresa..
If he wasn't the best individual artist, then it was the banjo player who often showed up with Snyder's own Sydney Wright.
Another great pair was Matt and Michelle Ellis. I can't say enough great things about this duo. I met Matt and his young son, Richard, one morning at The Manhattan Coffeehouse. They were eating giant muffins.
"Good morning," who's your buddy?, I asked.
"This is Richard. Say hi buddy."
"Nice to meet you guys. I'm Bill."
"I'm Matt," I remember him saying all the while thinking this guy looks just like my son-in-law, Bobby Patton from Arizona.
I don't remember how one thing led to another, but first Matt began playing at the deli and then he asked if his wife could come sing too.
"Uh, sure, " I said. Then I think I asked, "is she any good."
Boy was I and the rest of Snyder in for a Surprise. Michelle joined Matt and "killed it!" The Matt and Michelle duo played the deli so many times and always drew a huge crowd. They've since moved on and we dearly miss them.
But if I had to pick one singer who I'd always go back to, it'd be my friend Marcos Rios. Marcos fell into our laps. I think it was a GOD thing for both of us.
Marcos was working at the coffeehouse. We were short handed. He was bored and needed to stay busy. Later, I would learn he was escaping some demons. But all I knew was, he was willing and able... a warm body. Turns out, he was absolutely great!
Marcos took to waiting tables like a duck to water. He actually studied the menu, asked for advise on how to sell. He always walked to work. He never showed up late. I remember, he always apologized for what he apparently felt were shortcomings. I wish I'd told him, breathe. He was definitely a fast kind of guy.
Anyway, I can't remember how it came about that Marcos began singing at B.A.D. I wish I could. But as I remember it, he said he could sing. I said "you wanna sing during lunch on Wednesdays while you wait tables"? And he said, "sure."
We were all BLOWN AWAY. He covered everything. I think now he writes his own music. But then, he sang everything from Elvis to Prince and good too!
My favorite memory is from a random Wednesday when Marcos would not only wait tables but also take the stage from 12:00-1:00pm. On this particular day, we were busy. Marcos had a full section of tables. Still, he took the stage.
I don't remember how his set began or how far he was into it, but I'll never forget this.... in the middle of a song, still strumming his guitar... Marcos sang into the microphone:
"Table three! How ya doin? Need anything! Want more tea? I'll be right there."
Here was this guy in big round glasses singing on stage, covering the busiest section of tables because he was our 'go-to' waiter and still checking on his customers. Way to go Marcos.
Since his days at B.A.D., I think Marcos has extinguished his demons and conquered his dreams. And that's the GOD part for us. Rock on Marcos!
We had a lot of fun with music at the deli. Like I told my mother, 'I like music and I like to play it loud.' I remember that she winced a bit, pursed her lips and gave me a 'hmph' look. Still, she loved it when we played Sinatra. Jim Lionberger the retired game warden sang Sinatra. Mel Torme and Dean Martin... and loud too. That's when she gave me a thumbs up.
Bill Robertson, I could tell you so many ugly stories but it's so much nicer for me to remember the good guys.
One of the most important things to me when we started B.A.D. was the music. I wanted good old fashioned rock n' roll to continually waft over our customers. I'm 55 years old now. So when we began, I was in my late 40s and a hard core 70s and 80s rock kind of guy. So that's what I wanted playing without interruption.
First, we managed that with an iPad that mysteriously disappeared. Then, we went to Pandora. First, I went the cheap way. Then, we paid for a the advertise-less subscription. For diversity, the programmed channels ranged from rock n' roll to opera to show tunes to country rock. I really wanted our customers to tap their heels while they visited with us.
One thing that I insisted was, the music must be diverse. I never wanted too much of any genre. In particular, I didn't want too much country music. Sorry folks, but C&W's just not my thing. I even posted a big sign by our computer in the office that read:
"Don't touch the music! I like country but in small doses. This means you! Don't change my Pandora stations!"
Besides our 'canned' music, we offered a ton of live shows. The initial thought came from Teresa. She'd been to Lubbock to take her dad, Sam to the doctor, and said there was a fella playing the piano at Market Street. She said, "That was so nice." "Okay, let's try it," I said.
The acts ranged from hard rock to Texas songwriters. We had so many good bands thanks to a great booking agent out of Midland. A few of them definitely stand out.
The first group, whose name I can't recall, played seriously hard rock n' roll. Geez, it was loud. They played on our back patio. Besides the packed back area, folks were sitting in their truck beds just jamming to the tunes. I have no idea what the lyrics were but the crowd loved them. I remember the lead singer was about seven feet tall and worked at a sign shop in Sweetwater. I heard he got married. I remember thinking, geez I hope she's not short.
A group that I thought was great was the "Tone Pilots" out of San Angelo. They were older guys. They had real jobs. The lead singer used a remote amp and microphone. His name was Dan. He'd start on the inside stage and then walk outside on the sidewalk while singing and playing. But the icing on the cake was their blind saxophone player. "Geez, I hope he doesn't fall off the stage," I'd say to Teresa..
If he wasn't the best individual artist, then it was the banjo player who often showed up with Snyder's own Sydney Wright.
Another great pair was Matt and Michelle Ellis. I can't say enough great things about this duo. I met Matt and his young son, Richard, one morning at The Manhattan Coffeehouse. They were eating giant muffins.
"Good morning," who's your buddy?, I asked.
"This is Richard. Say hi buddy."
"Nice to meet you guys. I'm Bill."
"I'm Matt," I remember him saying all the while thinking this guy looks just like my son-in-law, Bobby Patton from Arizona.
I don't remember how one thing led to another, but first Matt began playing at the deli and then he asked if his wife could come sing too.
"Uh, sure, " I said. Then I think I asked, "is she any good."
Boy was I and the rest of Snyder in for a Surprise. Michelle joined Matt and "killed it!" The Matt and Michelle duo played the deli so many times and always drew a huge crowd. They've since moved on and we dearly miss them.
But if I had to pick one singer who I'd always go back to, it'd be my friend Marcos Rios. Marcos fell into our laps. I think it was a GOD thing for both of us.
Marcos was working at the coffeehouse. We were short handed. He was bored and needed to stay busy. Later, I would learn he was escaping some demons. But all I knew was, he was willing and able... a warm body. Turns out, he was absolutely great!
Marcos took to waiting tables like a duck to water. He actually studied the menu, asked for advise on how to sell. He always walked to work. He never showed up late. I remember, he always apologized for what he apparently felt were shortcomings. I wish I'd told him, breathe. He was definitely a fast kind of guy.
Anyway, I can't remember how it came about that Marcos began singing at B.A.D. I wish I could. But as I remember it, he said he could sing. I said "you wanna sing during lunch on Wednesdays while you wait tables"? And he said, "sure."
We were all BLOWN AWAY. He covered everything. I think now he writes his own music. But then, he sang everything from Elvis to Prince and good too!
My favorite memory is from a random Wednesday when Marcos would not only wait tables but also take the stage from 12:00-1:00pm. On this particular day, we were busy. Marcos had a full section of tables. Still, he took the stage.
I don't remember how his set began or how far he was into it, but I'll never forget this.... in the middle of a song, still strumming his guitar... Marcos sang into the microphone:
"Table three! How ya doin? Need anything! Want more tea? I'll be right there."
Here was this guy in big round glasses singing on stage, covering the busiest section of tables because he was our 'go-to' waiter and still checking on his customers. Way to go Marcos.
Since his days at B.A.D., I think Marcos has extinguished his demons and conquered his dreams. And that's the GOD part for us. Rock on Marcos!
We had a lot of fun with music at the deli. Like I told my mother, 'I like music and I like to play it loud.' I remember that she winced a bit, pursed her lips and gave me a 'hmph' look. Still, she loved it when we played Sinatra. Jim Lionberger the retired game warden sang Sinatra. Mel Torme and Dean Martin... and loud too. That's when she gave me a thumbs up.
Bill Robertson, I could tell you so many ugly stories but it's so much nicer for me to remember the good guys.
The Deli-Blog #3 (Customers)
We opened the deli Saturday, December 8, 2008 and closed Thursday, June 9, 2016. Over the years, we had some great customers and we had our fair share of real pukes, as my uncle Jimmie would say.
We had customers who were with us from start to finish. We had customers who visited every time they were in town. We had customers who flew in from Midland. We had customers who only spoke a foreign language and we had customers who literally grew from newborns to first, second and third graders before our eyes. In fact, that's one regret I really have. We should have kept a children's wall with pictures of them sleeping in car seats to them doing their homework over a grilled cheese sandwich.
A batch of customers who joined us from practically opening day and stayed till the very end was our friends from Western Texas College. They'd come in individually throughout the week, but Wednesdays after work was WTC day.
Dr. Mike and Carol Dreith, Roy Bartels, Julie Sentell, Mike Thornton, Chris Mackey, Melanie Schwertner and Stephanie and Toby Ducheneaux all made us feel important. They sat in our original and rickety chairs on the front stage and never really complained about our furnishings that would have made old church pews feel like a well worn Laz-e-boy.
We knew what each one drank. We kept their tabs taped on the counter behind the bar. We invented our version of bar food for them that none of them ever balked at paying the price. In the case of Stephanie and Toby, we even named a burger after them; The Duck-a-Knox. It was a simple swiss/mushroom burger that Toby wanted one day. I named it the Duck-a-Knox because that's how you'd spell their name phonetically.
We had kinds of names for customers. If we didn't have a name for them, we referred to them by what they ate. There was "the sauerkraut lady," Carol McCowen, because she liked kraut on her roast beef on rye. There was "extra kraut Jennifer," Jennifer Taylor, because she liked LOTS of kraut on her turkey ruben. "Grumpy" was John DeLille our city's former DCOS executive. May he Rest in Peace. John would call in his order to go and give "Grumpy" as his name. In all his orders, I don't think a single employee ever asked me or him what his real name was.
There were lots of other great, regular customers like Ben and Bennie, Dalton, Linda and the grandchildren, Janet, Troy and Triesta, The Yearwoods, The Auditors for Patterson, Jennifer Calley and Angie Strickland (our fish girls), Adrienne Williams (always Tuesday, grilled cheese & DP), Big Dennis (big laugh), Lil' Dennis (drove a VW Bug) and so many more. It'll take a separate post to relay their great, fun stories.
And then there was "Cheap Larry," the puke of all pukes. I'll never forget the night "Cheap Larry" came into the deli. He'd come to Snyder to start a course at WTC. He sat alone against the wall, under the boat bow. He faced the bar.
I remember that I waited on him. That's usually what I did when I noticed a newcomer to Snyder. I definitely believe(d) in the expression that you never get a second chance to make a good first impression. So, I tried and Teresa did later when she quit teaching and came on board, to always greet the 'newbies'.
"Cheap Larry" creeped me out from the start. He was a big fella with a smart alecky look on his face. I tried to chat him up. He just said, "gimme budlie." Translation = Bud Light.
After the second or third beer, he said to me,
"I'll take a another and buy that blonde at the bar one too."
"You mean my fiancé, sitting on the right?"
"Uh, just one then."
Long story short is, "Cheap Larry" had a few more and left. He paid his bill in almost exact change and when one of the kids went to clean his table they came back saying:
"That big guy left a quarter."
"Cheap Larry" didn't get labeled "Cheap Larry for stiffing me. We named him "Cheap Larry" because he became a regular, but never left more than a few cents tip after each visit. He'd run our waiters back and forth, but never show his gratitude or any semblance of respect for a kid just trying to make a few bucks. I genuinely think he took an evil, twisted approach to any and all servers. Run 'em and stiff 'em. After a few visits, I told the kids to ignore him and I'd take care of him. Hence, "Cheap Larry."
The last I heard, "Cheap Larry" left town and had a heart attack. I hope he's okay, but wonder if he paid his medical bill.
Bill Robertson, my uncle Jimmie was a pretty tough, no nonsense guy. So when he called someone a puke, he meant it the way it was intended.
We had customers who were with us from start to finish. We had customers who visited every time they were in town. We had customers who flew in from Midland. We had customers who only spoke a foreign language and we had customers who literally grew from newborns to first, second and third graders before our eyes. In fact, that's one regret I really have. We should have kept a children's wall with pictures of them sleeping in car seats to them doing their homework over a grilled cheese sandwich.
A batch of customers who joined us from practically opening day and stayed till the very end was our friends from Western Texas College. They'd come in individually throughout the week, but Wednesdays after work was WTC day.
Dr. Mike and Carol Dreith, Roy Bartels, Julie Sentell, Mike Thornton, Chris Mackey, Melanie Schwertner and Stephanie and Toby Ducheneaux all made us feel important. They sat in our original and rickety chairs on the front stage and never really complained about our furnishings that would have made old church pews feel like a well worn Laz-e-boy.
We knew what each one drank. We kept their tabs taped on the counter behind the bar. We invented our version of bar food for them that none of them ever balked at paying the price. In the case of Stephanie and Toby, we even named a burger after them; The Duck-a-Knox. It was a simple swiss/mushroom burger that Toby wanted one day. I named it the Duck-a-Knox because that's how you'd spell their name phonetically.
We had kinds of names for customers. If we didn't have a name for them, we referred to them by what they ate. There was "the sauerkraut lady," Carol McCowen, because she liked kraut on her roast beef on rye. There was "extra kraut Jennifer," Jennifer Taylor, because she liked LOTS of kraut on her turkey ruben. "Grumpy" was John DeLille our city's former DCOS executive. May he Rest in Peace. John would call in his order to go and give "Grumpy" as his name. In all his orders, I don't think a single employee ever asked me or him what his real name was.
There were lots of other great, regular customers like Ben and Bennie, Dalton, Linda and the grandchildren, Janet, Troy and Triesta, The Yearwoods, The Auditors for Patterson, Jennifer Calley and Angie Strickland (our fish girls), Adrienne Williams (always Tuesday, grilled cheese & DP), Big Dennis (big laugh), Lil' Dennis (drove a VW Bug) and so many more. It'll take a separate post to relay their great, fun stories.
And then there was "Cheap Larry," the puke of all pukes. I'll never forget the night "Cheap Larry" came into the deli. He'd come to Snyder to start a course at WTC. He sat alone against the wall, under the boat bow. He faced the bar.
I remember that I waited on him. That's usually what I did when I noticed a newcomer to Snyder. I definitely believe(d) in the expression that you never get a second chance to make a good first impression. So, I tried and Teresa did later when she quit teaching and came on board, to always greet the 'newbies'.
"Cheap Larry" creeped me out from the start. He was a big fella with a smart alecky look on his face. I tried to chat him up. He just said, "gimme budlie." Translation = Bud Light.
After the second or third beer, he said to me,
"I'll take a another and buy that blonde at the bar one too."
"You mean my fiancé, sitting on the right?"
"Uh, just one then."
Long story short is, "Cheap Larry" had a few more and left. He paid his bill in almost exact change and when one of the kids went to clean his table they came back saying:
"That big guy left a quarter."
"Cheap Larry" didn't get labeled "Cheap Larry for stiffing me. We named him "Cheap Larry" because he became a regular, but never left more than a few cents tip after each visit. He'd run our waiters back and forth, but never show his gratitude or any semblance of respect for a kid just trying to make a few bucks. I genuinely think he took an evil, twisted approach to any and all servers. Run 'em and stiff 'em. After a few visits, I told the kids to ignore him and I'd take care of him. Hence, "Cheap Larry."
The last I heard, "Cheap Larry" left town and had a heart attack. I hope he's okay, but wonder if he paid his medical bill.
Bill Robertson, my uncle Jimmie was a pretty tough, no nonsense guy. So when he called someone a puke, he meant it the way it was intended.
The Deli-Blog #2 (Maryjane's Closet)
Everything in my gut tells me to tell the deli story in chronological order. That's just the way I am. I don't like to start a new project until I'm finished with the first project and so on. But in the case of The Deli Blog, I think I'll break out with random, true stories of our life as restaurant operators in Snyder, Texas.
This is the story of "Maryjane's Closet." In case you don't know, "Maryjane" is code for marijuana. And in this case, it's all about smoking dope inside the deli. A subtitle to this post could be: "Good help is hard to find," "Can't fix stupid" or "Are you just an idiot"?
Before I write anymore, let me say that I'm not going to use too many real names when I convey the deli stories. For one, I fear I might get sued after I release the moronic things that happened at 1804 26th street. For another, we genuinely hope all these young people who committed so many ridiculous infractions have grown up, matured and changed their ways.
There was a time at the deli when we were open 11am-11pm, six days a week. Teresa and I thought we could work till about 5:00ish and then leave the deli in capable hands for the evening shift. The key word in that previous sentence is "thought."
Our night crew was mostly high schoolers and one adult named Kane, who was only working for us because he'd been fired by a big company for a DUI. He was and is a great guy, but made a big mistake. Turns out now, he's pushed the envelope and accomplished some really good things and has a very bright future. The kids were Jaden, Austin and a couple of others. I'm not sure if any of them have done anything of significance.
I wrote earlier that T & I usually left around 5:00ish. Yes, we did. But, we never left one time. It always took two or three times to get out the door to actually fire up the truck and head west to our home. On this evening, I know I re-entered the deli at least three times. It was that third time with Teresa at my side that we both came across an old, but familiar smell.
Our drill was, leave through the back room and back door, head straight to the truck and go. If we had to re-enter, we came back through the back door.
On this evening, we came through the back door into our back room as we called it. We kept dry goods in this area: Chips, to-go stuff and etc. There's a door on the left that at the time led to an area used as storage. It was full to the brim. You could barely open the door. It didn't have electricity. So, there was no lighting. It was when we walked past this door that we both stopped.
"What's that smell," I asked Teresa.
"What smell?"
"Smell it? That's dope."
"It sure is," she confirmed.
We lifted our noses like a couple of bloodhounds searching out the source. The smell got stronger and stronger as we turned left and walked to that door that as far as I knew was NEVER opened.
The door had one of those slide latches on it. I reached up, grabbed the guide bar and slide it right.
CLICK! I had no idea what would happen when I pushed open the brown, kind of worn out door. It opened easily enough but I couldn't see anything. But when I opened it a crack the cloud came rolling out.
The familiar smell and smoke were thick. It reminded me of the old Richard Pryor joke. The punch line was: "The funk came out and knocked me to my ... D&%M Knees!"
"What do we do now," Teresa asked as by now we both smelled like we'd been to a Doobie Brothers concert.
"Ah.... We gotta do something. Find out who it was and fire 'em."
"Let's go in and ask Kane who was just back here," she said.
"Son of a bitch," I think I yelled. If it wasn't one thing it was another. By this point of the deli's operation, we'd been through lots, I mean lots, of stupid stuff. But I/we never dreamed anyone, NO ONE, would be dumb enough to smoke dope on the job. If they had gone outside to their car and fired up a doobie, that'd be stupid enough. But to smoke pot on the job and actually inside their place of employment is/was waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay beyond reasonable.
"Hey Kane."
"Oh, hey Bill. You just can't break away from this place can you?"
"Uh-no. Uh, who just came from the backroom?"
"What?"
"Who just came up front from the backroom," I asked
"Ah, Austin and Jennifer from the coffeehouse."
"Okay, I'm firing both right now. They've been smoking pot in the back."
"Where?"
"In the storage room."
"Oh."
"C'mon man, you didn't know??!! You can't leave them alone. Pay attention!"
Turning my back on Kane, I wheeled around to Austin who was standing behind the deli's counter.
"Austin!" I remember him as a big, fluffy kid. He had a mop of blond hair and a great smile. In fact, he was fantastic when it came to customer service and just about everything else. He was indeed a tremendous help to us. I absolutely hated what I had to do.
"Yes sir."
"Were you just smoking pot in the back storage room?"
"Ah... yes sir."
My first thought was, 'yikes, I expected a denial. He's admitted to it. Got to appreciate that. Maybe we can talk through it.' Seriously, running the deli was so chaotic that losing a warm body was like losing a limb. But, I had to do what we felt we had to do. Being constantly late, sitting down on the job, calling in sick on Mondays and Fridays are one thing... BUT SMOKING POT ON THE JOB INSIDE THE BUILDING is something else.
"You're fired. Get out!"
You know what he said next?
"Yes sir."
He never balked. He came around from behind the counter and walked out the front door.
Believe it or not, I hired him back. Like I said, a warm body is a warm body. Unfortunately, I had to fire him for drinking on the job with a customer. He was only 17. I last saw him in the grocery store parking lot. I barely recognized him. Still, we hugged and caught up. He's a family man now working for an oil field company.
As for the coffeehouse girl smoking with him, I fired her too. She brought in her mom the next day who argued we should have given her daughter a drug test on the spot.
"Sorry lady, I don't have a portable U-A," I told her. She and her daughter left. I don't think we've since crossed paths.
So from that afternoon forward, that back storage room has been "Maryjane's Closet." We all called it that. Every time we hired a new employee and gave them the Day-One tour, I'd point out: "That's Maryjane's Closet because that's where we busted employees smoking pot on the job."
If you think that story's crazy, wait 'til you hear about the kitchen manager who told me to get the "F&%K out of the kitchen" or the teenage girl who quit because I was rude. I was rude when I told her to put away her computer while working. She exclaimed: "I have homework to do!" Suffice it to say, that set me off.
Bill Robertson, for every ridiculous story--I have a few other stories about some great kids who I'm sure will go quite far.
This is the story of "Maryjane's Closet." In case you don't know, "Maryjane" is code for marijuana. And in this case, it's all about smoking dope inside the deli. A subtitle to this post could be: "Good help is hard to find," "Can't fix stupid" or "Are you just an idiot"?
Before I write anymore, let me say that I'm not going to use too many real names when I convey the deli stories. For one, I fear I might get sued after I release the moronic things that happened at 1804 26th street. For another, we genuinely hope all these young people who committed so many ridiculous infractions have grown up, matured and changed their ways.
There was a time at the deli when we were open 11am-11pm, six days a week. Teresa and I thought we could work till about 5:00ish and then leave the deli in capable hands for the evening shift. The key word in that previous sentence is "thought."
Our night crew was mostly high schoolers and one adult named Kane, who was only working for us because he'd been fired by a big company for a DUI. He was and is a great guy, but made a big mistake. Turns out now, he's pushed the envelope and accomplished some really good things and has a very bright future. The kids were Jaden, Austin and a couple of others. I'm not sure if any of them have done anything of significance.
I wrote earlier that T & I usually left around 5:00ish. Yes, we did. But, we never left one time. It always took two or three times to get out the door to actually fire up the truck and head west to our home. On this evening, I know I re-entered the deli at least three times. It was that third time with Teresa at my side that we both came across an old, but familiar smell.
Our drill was, leave through the back room and back door, head straight to the truck and go. If we had to re-enter, we came back through the back door.
On this evening, we came through the back door into our back room as we called it. We kept dry goods in this area: Chips, to-go stuff and etc. There's a door on the left that at the time led to an area used as storage. It was full to the brim. You could barely open the door. It didn't have electricity. So, there was no lighting. It was when we walked past this door that we both stopped.
"What's that smell," I asked Teresa.
"What smell?"
"Smell it? That's dope."
"It sure is," she confirmed.
We lifted our noses like a couple of bloodhounds searching out the source. The smell got stronger and stronger as we turned left and walked to that door that as far as I knew was NEVER opened.
The door had one of those slide latches on it. I reached up, grabbed the guide bar and slide it right.
CLICK! I had no idea what would happen when I pushed open the brown, kind of worn out door. It opened easily enough but I couldn't see anything. But when I opened it a crack the cloud came rolling out.
The familiar smell and smoke were thick. It reminded me of the old Richard Pryor joke. The punch line was: "The funk came out and knocked me to my ... D&%M Knees!"
"What do we do now," Teresa asked as by now we both smelled like we'd been to a Doobie Brothers concert.
"Ah.... We gotta do something. Find out who it was and fire 'em."
"Let's go in and ask Kane who was just back here," she said.
"Son of a bitch," I think I yelled. If it wasn't one thing it was another. By this point of the deli's operation, we'd been through lots, I mean lots, of stupid stuff. But I/we never dreamed anyone, NO ONE, would be dumb enough to smoke dope on the job. If they had gone outside to their car and fired up a doobie, that'd be stupid enough. But to smoke pot on the job and actually inside their place of employment is/was waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay beyond reasonable.
"Hey Kane."
"Oh, hey Bill. You just can't break away from this place can you?"
"Uh-no. Uh, who just came from the backroom?"
"What?"
"Who just came up front from the backroom," I asked
"Ah, Austin and Jennifer from the coffeehouse."
"Okay, I'm firing both right now. They've been smoking pot in the back."
"Where?"
"In the storage room."
"Oh."
"C'mon man, you didn't know??!! You can't leave them alone. Pay attention!"
Turning my back on Kane, I wheeled around to Austin who was standing behind the deli's counter.
"Austin!" I remember him as a big, fluffy kid. He had a mop of blond hair and a great smile. In fact, he was fantastic when it came to customer service and just about everything else. He was indeed a tremendous help to us. I absolutely hated what I had to do.
"Yes sir."
"Were you just smoking pot in the back storage room?"
"Ah... yes sir."
My first thought was, 'yikes, I expected a denial. He's admitted to it. Got to appreciate that. Maybe we can talk through it.' Seriously, running the deli was so chaotic that losing a warm body was like losing a limb. But, I had to do what we felt we had to do. Being constantly late, sitting down on the job, calling in sick on Mondays and Fridays are one thing... BUT SMOKING POT ON THE JOB INSIDE THE BUILDING is something else.
"You're fired. Get out!"
You know what he said next?
"Yes sir."
He never balked. He came around from behind the counter and walked out the front door.
Believe it or not, I hired him back. Like I said, a warm body is a warm body. Unfortunately, I had to fire him for drinking on the job with a customer. He was only 17. I last saw him in the grocery store parking lot. I barely recognized him. Still, we hugged and caught up. He's a family man now working for an oil field company.
As for the coffeehouse girl smoking with him, I fired her too. She brought in her mom the next day who argued we should have given her daughter a drug test on the spot.
"Sorry lady, I don't have a portable U-A," I told her. She and her daughter left. I don't think we've since crossed paths.
So from that afternoon forward, that back storage room has been "Maryjane's Closet." We all called it that. Every time we hired a new employee and gave them the Day-One tour, I'd point out: "That's Maryjane's Closet because that's where we busted employees smoking pot on the job."
If you think that story's crazy, wait 'til you hear about the kitchen manager who told me to get the "F&%K out of the kitchen" or the teenage girl who quit because I was rude. I was rude when I told her to put away her computer while working. She exclaimed: "I have homework to do!" Suffice it to say, that set me off.
Bill Robertson, for every ridiculous story--I have a few other stories about some great kids who I'm sure will go quite far.
The Deli-Blog #1
If I had a nickel for every time someone asked Teresa and me if we missed operating The Big Apple Deli in Snyder, I could be writing this post from a balcony overlooking the Caribbean or maybe at my desk in a converted lighthouse balancing on the cliffs of Dover. The short answer is NO!
The story behind the story is, The Big Apple Deli or B.A.D. or The deli as we called it really wasn't supposed to happened. It came about after my ex-wife and kids left Snyder. The original plan was for my ex-wife to operate an antique store in what's now Uncle A's Tavern and for me to operate our family ranch, The Windmill Ranch Preserve. Meantime, Jack and Joe would go to school at Snyder while Jeff and Georgia went off to college.
Well, life happens. So, my mom opened The Manhattan Coffee House in 2006 and together we opened B.A.D. Christmas of 2008, the night of Snyder's annual Christmas parade to be exact. How we got there, what happened over the next eight years and where we are now will likely be the featured topic of many blogs to come.
The deli's not an original idea. I borrowed the blueprint for daily operations from an old watering hole of mine called The Caterie in Baton Rouge. I worked there as a teenager. I played there as a young adult. Everything from the way customers ordered to the big walk-in cooler in the dining room to the measurements for our portion size to the butter on the bread, I borrowed from my Caterie days.
But before we could think about opening the doors, we had a 1916 building stuck in about 1975. We had to demo the 30'x50' room practically from floor to ceiling. We had to create the new 'bones' all the while hoping to stay true to the building's nearly 100 year old skeleton. Thank goodness we had a willing contractor, a creative city inspector and a few amazing local craftsmen and artists.
Our goal was always restore and then renovate. That was particularly difficult because we didn't have any pictures from the building's old days. We had to rely on the 'seams' we found when we demolished the 1975 stuff because underneath the ugly drop ceiling, the tile floors and the paneling was 1916!
Still, old age and deterioration took a toll. We simply had to renovate and that's where our 'funky rustic' motif came into play. A few examples are:
-The old doors for the deli counter came from an estate sale in Snyder.
-The blue paint on the wood around the inside stage came from an old trailer. A wonderful craftsmen, Terry Huestis, donated the wood to the project. The paint came from when his wife, Linda, spilled it while painting the trailer.
-The 1953 newspaper articles on the bar came from another estate sale. The day we laid those on the bar, the process stopped all work. Every electrician, plumber and carpenter wanted to read the articles before I dropped them in place.
As for the décor, things like "Rusty" the old metal horse, the scoreboard on the wall, the half boat sticking out above the door and even the old boxer shorts on the beer can Christmas tree, came from customers. We didn't buy a single decoration. But each one comes with a story.
-A little girl named the horse "Rusty." She made the sign with her dad. She's a grown woman now. Her dad has since passed away.
-The half boat was supposed to be our dove retrieving boat. But when Teresa and I put it in the water, it took on water like the Titantic. Our friend Terry Huestis put the bow on our wall.
-A customer said, "Bill, you want a scoreboard"? I said, "Sure, who doesn't want a scoreboard." The next thing I knew... we had a scoreboard on the wall.
-The boxer's belong to a great customer and a good guy. By the way, he brought them in. He didn't take them off and then give them to us.
There are so many 'deli stories' to tell you. I'll get to them over time. The highlights, or lowlights, depending on your viewpoint include:
-Customers calling me at home demanding we stay open later
-Good friends enjoying a meal but working the bar for us at the same time
-The explosion in business called "Tuesday Night Trivia."
-The kitchen manager telling me to "get the "F&%K out of the kitchen"
-"Mary Jane's Closet," the employees smoking dope on the job... INSIDE THE BUILDING
-The blind saxophone player
-Calling employees on Sunday night to confirm they were okay, their kids were okay and their babysitters were okay.
-The customers we called only by code; Sauerkraut Lady, Grumpy, Mean so-in-so, Big so-in-so, etc.
-CODE BLUE!!!!
I hope you'll read along. Please share any memories with us.
Bill Robertson, not worrying if everybody's going to show up, if the coolers will hold their temp or about meeting payroll.
The story behind the story is, The Big Apple Deli or B.A.D. or The deli as we called it really wasn't supposed to happened. It came about after my ex-wife and kids left Snyder. The original plan was for my ex-wife to operate an antique store in what's now Uncle A's Tavern and for me to operate our family ranch, The Windmill Ranch Preserve. Meantime, Jack and Joe would go to school at Snyder while Jeff and Georgia went off to college.
Well, life happens. So, my mom opened The Manhattan Coffee House in 2006 and together we opened B.A.D. Christmas of 2008, the night of Snyder's annual Christmas parade to be exact. How we got there, what happened over the next eight years and where we are now will likely be the featured topic of many blogs to come.
The deli's not an original idea. I borrowed the blueprint for daily operations from an old watering hole of mine called The Caterie in Baton Rouge. I worked there as a teenager. I played there as a young adult. Everything from the way customers ordered to the big walk-in cooler in the dining room to the measurements for our portion size to the butter on the bread, I borrowed from my Caterie days.
But before we could think about opening the doors, we had a 1916 building stuck in about 1975. We had to demo the 30'x50' room practically from floor to ceiling. We had to create the new 'bones' all the while hoping to stay true to the building's nearly 100 year old skeleton. Thank goodness we had a willing contractor, a creative city inspector and a few amazing local craftsmen and artists.
Our goal was always restore and then renovate. That was particularly difficult because we didn't have any pictures from the building's old days. We had to rely on the 'seams' we found when we demolished the 1975 stuff because underneath the ugly drop ceiling, the tile floors and the paneling was 1916!
Still, old age and deterioration took a toll. We simply had to renovate and that's where our 'funky rustic' motif came into play. A few examples are:
-The old doors for the deli counter came from an estate sale in Snyder.
-The blue paint on the wood around the inside stage came from an old trailer. A wonderful craftsmen, Terry Huestis, donated the wood to the project. The paint came from when his wife, Linda, spilled it while painting the trailer.
-The 1953 newspaper articles on the bar came from another estate sale. The day we laid those on the bar, the process stopped all work. Every electrician, plumber and carpenter wanted to read the articles before I dropped them in place.
As for the décor, things like "Rusty" the old metal horse, the scoreboard on the wall, the half boat sticking out above the door and even the old boxer shorts on the beer can Christmas tree, came from customers. We didn't buy a single decoration. But each one comes with a story.
-A little girl named the horse "Rusty." She made the sign with her dad. She's a grown woman now. Her dad has since passed away.
-The half boat was supposed to be our dove retrieving boat. But when Teresa and I put it in the water, it took on water like the Titantic. Our friend Terry Huestis put the bow on our wall.
-A customer said, "Bill, you want a scoreboard"? I said, "Sure, who doesn't want a scoreboard." The next thing I knew... we had a scoreboard on the wall.
-The boxer's belong to a great customer and a good guy. By the way, he brought them in. He didn't take them off and then give them to us.
There are so many 'deli stories' to tell you. I'll get to them over time. The highlights, or lowlights, depending on your viewpoint include:
-Customers calling me at home demanding we stay open later
-Good friends enjoying a meal but working the bar for us at the same time
-The explosion in business called "Tuesday Night Trivia."
-The kitchen manager telling me to "get the "F&%K out of the kitchen"
-"Mary Jane's Closet," the employees smoking dope on the job... INSIDE THE BUILDING
-The blind saxophone player
-Calling employees on Sunday night to confirm they were okay, their kids were okay and their babysitters were okay.
-The customers we called only by code; Sauerkraut Lady, Grumpy, Mean so-in-so, Big so-in-so, etc.
-CODE BLUE!!!!
I hope you'll read along. Please share any memories with us.
Bill Robertson, not worrying if everybody's going to show up, if the coolers will hold their temp or about meeting payroll.
Memories Blog #1
As I write, my youngest son, Joe (23), is boarding a big boat in Miami for a cruise in the Caribbean. He texted me a little while ago, "We're about to board. I won't have service. I'll call you when we get back on Friday." I've learned from many years of texting with my kids that he really means, "I'm going to have fun. Don't disturb me." But, I still worry.
I worry because of the epiphany I recently had about my children. I actually have four, although most of you who know me probably only know of Jack (25) and Joe. There's also Jeffrey (31) and Georgia (30).
They were all much younger when my ex-wife and the children left Snyder and we subsequently separated and then divorced. Joe, the baby, was only going into the seventh grade. Since then, I've seen he and Jack approximately two times a year, and I haven't seen Jeff or Georgia but maybe only two or three times.
That epiphany I mentioned comes from what I know of my children. They're in Tennessee or in Georgia's case North Carolina. So, all I really know of them is when they were young. Surely some of you reading this know what I'm talking about. The kids were young when my ex-wife and I divorced. So, that's what I remember the most. In short, I'm worried about a 23 year old grown man going on a cruise who in my mind is still 12 years old because that's the last real time I had with him.
Every now and again when we're together Joe, the best wise-cracker of all of my kids, will hit me with a zinger. One year we went skiing. We stopped over on New Year's eve in Albuquerque. Joe, who was 21 at the time, said he wanted to gamble.
I said, "Okay, but we can't leave you at the casino. We need to leave together. This isn't exactly a safe town."
Joe, without skipping a beat, said: "Dad, I'm 21, I'm six foot three and 230 pounds... No one's going to mess with me."
I had to agree. Thank goodness Joe lost his fanny in the first few hands of blackjack and said, "LET'S GO."
The back story is, Jeff and Georgia are actually my step-children. I married their mom when they were both in diapers. We spent 16 years together. So, I call them and feel them as my children. I can only imagine the memories of their Dad. At least my youngest was 12, not two years old when he was out of the picture. Jeff, Georgia and I don't communicate. I wish we did. I hear that both are doing very well.
As for Joe and Jack, we text most everyday. We talk on the phone every now and again. But that's hard. It's hard because if they were still the age when I knew them, I could ask all kinds of things like: How was school, how was practice, got your clothes set out for tomorrow, whatcha want to watch on TV tonight.... the simple things. More importantly, I could know what's important to them. But now that they're both grown men, I do my best to not ask about the weather. Surely, others reading this post know exactly what I mean.
So many times, people use the expression; "Making memories." I get that. Like so many other Dads like myself, I definitely put my heart into all the opportunities I have with Jack and Joe to make memories. So indeed, I... like so many other dads as myself have some great memories. But the truth is, they're just different kind of memories. I wouldn't trade any of them for all the money on earth.
But the key word in "making memories" might be making. Every wonderful memory I've had regarding my children since 2006 has been made. None came randomly, sporadically or accidentally. Not a single one.
So for me and I bet many, many other Moms and Dads not in their children's lives, the real memory.... the memories that are burned into your mind... the memories that make up the references for your children... are the memories before your time apart from those who you love so much.
Bill Robertson, hoping Joe wears sunscreen.
I worry because of the epiphany I recently had about my children. I actually have four, although most of you who know me probably only know of Jack (25) and Joe. There's also Jeffrey (31) and Georgia (30).
They were all much younger when my ex-wife and the children left Snyder and we subsequently separated and then divorced. Joe, the baby, was only going into the seventh grade. Since then, I've seen he and Jack approximately two times a year, and I haven't seen Jeff or Georgia but maybe only two or three times.
That epiphany I mentioned comes from what I know of my children. They're in Tennessee or in Georgia's case North Carolina. So, all I really know of them is when they were young. Surely some of you reading this know what I'm talking about. The kids were young when my ex-wife and I divorced. So, that's what I remember the most. In short, I'm worried about a 23 year old grown man going on a cruise who in my mind is still 12 years old because that's the last real time I had with him.
Every now and again when we're together Joe, the best wise-cracker of all of my kids, will hit me with a zinger. One year we went skiing. We stopped over on New Year's eve in Albuquerque. Joe, who was 21 at the time, said he wanted to gamble.
I said, "Okay, but we can't leave you at the casino. We need to leave together. This isn't exactly a safe town."
Joe, without skipping a beat, said: "Dad, I'm 21, I'm six foot three and 230 pounds... No one's going to mess with me."
I had to agree. Thank goodness Joe lost his fanny in the first few hands of blackjack and said, "LET'S GO."
The back story is, Jeff and Georgia are actually my step-children. I married their mom when they were both in diapers. We spent 16 years together. So, I call them and feel them as my children. I can only imagine the memories of their Dad. At least my youngest was 12, not two years old when he was out of the picture. Jeff, Georgia and I don't communicate. I wish we did. I hear that both are doing very well.
As for Joe and Jack, we text most everyday. We talk on the phone every now and again. But that's hard. It's hard because if they were still the age when I knew them, I could ask all kinds of things like: How was school, how was practice, got your clothes set out for tomorrow, whatcha want to watch on TV tonight.... the simple things. More importantly, I could know what's important to them. But now that they're both grown men, I do my best to not ask about the weather. Surely, others reading this post know exactly what I mean.
So many times, people use the expression; "Making memories." I get that. Like so many other Dads like myself, I definitely put my heart into all the opportunities I have with Jack and Joe to make memories. So indeed, I... like so many other dads as myself have some great memories. But the truth is, they're just different kind of memories. I wouldn't trade any of them for all the money on earth.
But the key word in "making memories" might be making. Every wonderful memory I've had regarding my children since 2006 has been made. None came randomly, sporadically or accidentally. Not a single one.
So for me and I bet many, many other Moms and Dads not in their children's lives, the real memory.... the memories that are burned into your mind... the memories that make up the references for your children... are the memories before your time apart from those who you love so much.
Bill Robertson, hoping Joe wears sunscreen.
Smallville Politics Blog #2
As I write this post, our community is just two days away from the primary election. I don't know about other cities with elections, but our little slice of heaven features 14 candidates running for three seats. To say our local election is hotly contested is as much an understatement as saying, a ghost pepper is a little on the hot side.
The cliché is, get out and vote. It's free. It's your chance to make a change. But the truth with our election and probably most of the others is, voter turnout will be less than 20-percent. I'm pretty sure it's going to be the angry 20-percent around here.
I can't prove it, but I'd bet my pay check that most of that 20-percent will be older registered voters. The voters who don't need a change. Subsequently, they don't want a change. And that 'stick your head in the sand' attitude seems pervasive among the majority of the candidates and the local media that can easily sway the voters.
Here are some examples of what I consider taking a step back in time attitude.
A candidate for county judge says: "A conservative choice for Scurry County."
--A conservative choice? That's it? I offer, we're not sitting on easy street around here. Does anyone else think we need more than a conservative approach to get our county moving forward.
A candidate for an open county commissioner position advertises that a vote for him is "a vote for better road maintenance."
-Please!!!! Stop it with the road maintenance issue. Of course, the county's going to watch over our roads. Again, stumping for better roads is like a motel saying 'we use clean toilet paper.' Better roads? That's all you got?
Another candidate for a commissioner post cites: "We all know about the BAD projects "Maverick West," "Cavender Road" and the "Hanger." And in big BOLD LETTERS, He goes on to say: "Saving Rather Than Spending."
-First of all, I bet a nickel this candidate would cite what he calls the BAD projects if those projects had worked. For my money and my hopes for my hometown, I want an elected official who's at least going to try to give me more than the expected things.
-As for saving vs spending, of course. But at some point, what exactly are you saving for? Our county has dire issues right now that need addressing right now. I suspect a solution for any of them is free and I also suspect none of them will change without spending.
And yet another commissioner candidate says he's 'dedicated to the people of Scurry county.
- That's good to know, but what makes you qualified to help run county government?
Not a single candidate advertising in our local paper said anything like, "My number one priority is maintaining/upgrading existing services and after that, my vote will always be to spend taxpayers money on the projects that move Scurry county forward and better assist our community in attracting new business."
Before I sign off, please let me add: I definitely support and hope our county elected officials will continue supporting the many, well maintained services we all have come to expect. I support using my/our tax dollars for those services first.
My vote is for the elected officials to take my extra money, if there is any, and thoroughly investigate and move forward on projects that maybe not now, maybe not next year but in five years or even 10 years will benefit all of our county.
Bill Robertson, Nothing Changes--If nothing changes.
The cliché is, get out and vote. It's free. It's your chance to make a change. But the truth with our election and probably most of the others is, voter turnout will be less than 20-percent. I'm pretty sure it's going to be the angry 20-percent around here.
I can't prove it, but I'd bet my pay check that most of that 20-percent will be older registered voters. The voters who don't need a change. Subsequently, they don't want a change. And that 'stick your head in the sand' attitude seems pervasive among the majority of the candidates and the local media that can easily sway the voters.
Here are some examples of what I consider taking a step back in time attitude.
A candidate for county judge says: "A conservative choice for Scurry County."
--A conservative choice? That's it? I offer, we're not sitting on easy street around here. Does anyone else think we need more than a conservative approach to get our county moving forward.
A candidate for an open county commissioner position advertises that a vote for him is "a vote for better road maintenance."
-Please!!!! Stop it with the road maintenance issue. Of course, the county's going to watch over our roads. Again, stumping for better roads is like a motel saying 'we use clean toilet paper.' Better roads? That's all you got?
Another candidate for a commissioner post cites: "We all know about the BAD projects "Maverick West," "Cavender Road" and the "Hanger." And in big BOLD LETTERS, He goes on to say: "Saving Rather Than Spending."
-First of all, I bet a nickel this candidate would cite what he calls the BAD projects if those projects had worked. For my money and my hopes for my hometown, I want an elected official who's at least going to try to give me more than the expected things.
-As for saving vs spending, of course. But at some point, what exactly are you saving for? Our county has dire issues right now that need addressing right now. I suspect a solution for any of them is free and I also suspect none of them will change without spending.
And yet another commissioner candidate says he's 'dedicated to the people of Scurry county.
- That's good to know, but what makes you qualified to help run county government?
Not a single candidate advertising in our local paper said anything like, "My number one priority is maintaining/upgrading existing services and after that, my vote will always be to spend taxpayers money on the projects that move Scurry county forward and better assist our community in attracting new business."
Before I sign off, please let me add: I definitely support and hope our county elected officials will continue supporting the many, well maintained services we all have come to expect. I support using my/our tax dollars for those services first.
My vote is for the elected officials to take my extra money, if there is any, and thoroughly investigate and move forward on projects that maybe not now, maybe not next year but in five years or even 10 years will benefit all of our county.
Bill Robertson, Nothing Changes--If nothing changes.
Smallville Politics Blog #1
The political climate in my little hometown is beginning to look a lot like something we expect to see at the national level. We have name calling, vicious rhetoric in social media, overwhelmingly slanted editorials in the local media and political signs galore. In fact, in my 11 years since returning to our city on the plains, this election is creating the most hub-bub that I can remember.
It's obvious to even a blind man that the voting public wants change. The rub for me is; The voting public is typically the older set and in our case, this voting public I fear wants a change 'back to the good old days... the way things were...'
I 'googled' the word change. The definitions are all the same pretty much everywhere I looked. The bottom line being that change is new. It's a different direction.
I fear, and that's probably too strong of a word, that the change most of our 'voting public' wants is not a change at all, but a return. A return is defined as 'back to the beginning or a previous point.' Who in their right mind wants our community to return to back to the beginning?
The 'voting public's' stance, which is a solid argument in most cases, is all about spending of taxpayers' money. They don't want their money spent on projects or ideas they feel are beyond the realm of elected officials duties. It's all about services, services, services.
Here's what's going to put the nail in Snyder's coffin. The old 'voting public's' going to get out to vote for a return to the way things were because they don't need anything to change. They simply want reliable services.
If the younger people of Snyder don't vote, not only will Snyder not change-it will also die on the vine.
I'm writing directly to the voters who have children, even grandchildren who they hope will want to stay in our city. Without your vote for progress through progressive elected officials, who can blame a young person for coming home only for the holidays?
So, I offer: Ignore the bias in the local media. Bless their heart--they can't see the forest for the trees. Ignore Concerned Citizens for Scurry County.... Good grief, most of the participants would fit better in the Gossips of Scurry County or The Scurry County Mis-Information Society. Beware of zealous social media trollers... they're tantamount to that sheep in a wolf's outfit.
I saw a bumper sticker. It read: Nothing changes if Nothing changes.
Bill Robertson, Community services are like clean sheets at a motel. I expect them, but I want more.
It's obvious to even a blind man that the voting public wants change. The rub for me is; The voting public is typically the older set and in our case, this voting public I fear wants a change 'back to the good old days... the way things were...'
I 'googled' the word change. The definitions are all the same pretty much everywhere I looked. The bottom line being that change is new. It's a different direction.
I fear, and that's probably too strong of a word, that the change most of our 'voting public' wants is not a change at all, but a return. A return is defined as 'back to the beginning or a previous point.' Who in their right mind wants our community to return to back to the beginning?
The 'voting public's' stance, which is a solid argument in most cases, is all about spending of taxpayers' money. They don't want their money spent on projects or ideas they feel are beyond the realm of elected officials duties. It's all about services, services, services.
Here's what's going to put the nail in Snyder's coffin. The old 'voting public's' going to get out to vote for a return to the way things were because they don't need anything to change. They simply want reliable services.
If the younger people of Snyder don't vote, not only will Snyder not change-it will also die on the vine.
I'm writing directly to the voters who have children, even grandchildren who they hope will want to stay in our city. Without your vote for progress through progressive elected officials, who can blame a young person for coming home only for the holidays?
So, I offer: Ignore the bias in the local media. Bless their heart--they can't see the forest for the trees. Ignore Concerned Citizens for Scurry County.... Good grief, most of the participants would fit better in the Gossips of Scurry County or The Scurry County Mis-Information Society. Beware of zealous social media trollers... they're tantamount to that sheep in a wolf's outfit.
I saw a bumper sticker. It read: Nothing changes if Nothing changes.
Bill Robertson, Community services are like clean sheets at a motel. I expect them, but I want more.
Beach Blog #23
Well, we made it back to Texas. We got home in time for the ABC Nightly News with David Muir. We're not so old we record the nightly news. We record CBS Sunday Morning, even though we're up in plenty of time.
All told, we drove 2,665.8 miles on our month long adventure to Florida. Big Red, our 2012 Chevy Silverado with 112,500 miles to start the trip, handled the road like a champ with only one little hiccup. Apparently, we bought some bad gas in Mississippi. But once we found us some good Exxon, Red was running good.... check engine light free.
I've heard a lot of people say when they return from a trip or vacation that 'they're glad to be home' or back on Texas soil or sleeping in their own bed.' To that, I say.... Bull. How can that be? Really?
So to not offend anyone, I'll speak only for myself. I just left the beach, ate seafood almost everyday, walked in the sand, rode a big-ugly bike, laughed and had so much fun with Teresa. Now, not so much. Teresa thank goodness is still near me laughing and supporting and loving... but all the rest of those things that we planned for, paid for and drove almost 3,000 miles for are a great and wonderful memory.
So if you were to ask me, am I glad to be home? The short answer is not no, but HECK NO. We just left perfection to return to reality. Don't get me wrong. There's nothing wrong with our reality. But to say I'm glad I'm home and back in reality versus the beach, the sand, the food, the bikes, the sun, the flip flops, etc is almost like asking me if I'd rather go to the dentist or go see a good movie.
I will tell you this though... There's no way in the world I'm going to whine or complain about my lot in life. Absolutely, no poor-pitiful Bill. Teresa and I are both wonderfully blessed. All I'm saying is, I don't get folks who say they're happy or ready to be home when they just left places that so many call 'paradise.'
Simply, reality is what we have to do so we can do what we want to do. I'm very thankful that T & I have a 'have to' so we can experience a 'want to.' I wish the same for you.
Bill Robertson, about to shop-vac up some bugs.... what a difference 48 yrs makes. All good.
All told, we drove 2,665.8 miles on our month long adventure to Florida. Big Red, our 2012 Chevy Silverado with 112,500 miles to start the trip, handled the road like a champ with only one little hiccup. Apparently, we bought some bad gas in Mississippi. But once we found us some good Exxon, Red was running good.... check engine light free.
I've heard a lot of people say when they return from a trip or vacation that 'they're glad to be home' or back on Texas soil or sleeping in their own bed.' To that, I say.... Bull. How can that be? Really?
So to not offend anyone, I'll speak only for myself. I just left the beach, ate seafood almost everyday, walked in the sand, rode a big-ugly bike, laughed and had so much fun with Teresa. Now, not so much. Teresa thank goodness is still near me laughing and supporting and loving... but all the rest of those things that we planned for, paid for and drove almost 3,000 miles for are a great and wonderful memory.
So if you were to ask me, am I glad to be home? The short answer is not no, but HECK NO. We just left perfection to return to reality. Don't get me wrong. There's nothing wrong with our reality. But to say I'm glad I'm home and back in reality versus the beach, the sand, the food, the bikes, the sun, the flip flops, etc is almost like asking me if I'd rather go to the dentist or go see a good movie.
I will tell you this though... There's no way in the world I'm going to whine or complain about my lot in life. Absolutely, no poor-pitiful Bill. Teresa and I are both wonderfully blessed. All I'm saying is, I don't get folks who say they're happy or ready to be home when they just left places that so many call 'paradise.'
Simply, reality is what we have to do so we can do what we want to do. I'm very thankful that T & I have a 'have to' so we can experience a 'want to.' I wish the same for you.
Bill Robertson, about to shop-vac up some bugs.... what a difference 48 yrs makes. All good.
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