It was lunchtime, and I knew I would be paying for lunch for Slade and me. And I also knew there wasn’t enough money for two sodas in my wallet. I went into Amy’s office up front and asked for the bag that held our petty cash to get a few dollars for burgers.
Amy pulled out the drawer, withdrew the bag and I asked, “Do you think there’s a $20 in there I can steal? I’m outta cash.”
She looked at the few bills there and replied, “I don’t think there’s a whole lot here. Remember, last week you took $100 from this bag, and we haven’t replaced that yet.”
But she handed me a $20 and then said, “Well, that might have to do it for a while,” or something to that effect, and, for a moment, I almost felt guilty.

Then I teased her a little and said, “Well, Amy, you know that I’m the only one here who does not get a paycheck, and even if I took $100 a week, for the 80 hours or so I work, that only comes out to about a buck and a quarter an hour.”

Of course, she well knows that my paycheck, like every other married man’s, goes to my wife. And she knows I’m not stealing the petty cash, either. It’s been recorded and accounted for; it just hasn’t made it to the bank yet, and a small amount of it never will. It’s either that or I go on a diet — and to heck with that!
That little incident got me thinking that not as much has changed over these 35 years or so as I might have hoped. Back in 1972, when I first applied for work at a local sign shop, the owner, Jesus Salvador Molina (Jesse), offered to pay me exactly $1 an hour to be his apprentice sign painter. And, even though that was below minimum wage back then, I wanted to learn and took him up on his offer. I was paid in cash, exactly $1 per hour for the next several months, until I got a raise to two bits and a dollar, to be his part-time brush man while I worked my way through a local junior college, which is exactly what I make right now!
That’s not a whole lot for the long hours involved. Oh, it may not be 80 hours every week, but it sure as heck isn’t 40, and most of the time, it probably is closer to 80, than it is to 40, all of which shows that I am not much of a business man, or I would be able to find and afford someone to take over a number of my duties. Then I could work a whole lot less.
And though there are several people there at the shop, I just don’t feel useless just yet. In fact, it still seems like our significant level of productivity drops off quite a bit, perhaps an unaffordable amount, when I take very much time off. It could just be my imagination, but I’m kind of afraid to find out how accurate my impression of this really is.

I have talked to many sign business owners, and few have told me that hiring more people made their jobs a lot easier. More than a few have told me they went back to working by themselves or with just a helper to make their businesses and time more manageable.

Guys, I believe we have all pursued the wrong career. What we should have done is made a lifetime career in politics, especially on the federal level. I don’t know a whole lot about the job descriptions of our judges, congressmen, senators and the like, but if we gauge them all by viewing the job description of the one who has the top position and the most responsibility, I imagine any of them work a whole lot less hours than your typical sign shop owner.

I say this because, judging from the two most recent examples, the president himself, whether a Democrat or Republican, can get his job done in something less than the nine-to-five hours, and can and will accept any excuse to drop everything on his desk that must be done to fly all over the country or world for days at a time, not even be missed back home.
Work weekends? You’ve got to be kidding. When there’s Camp David, a ranch to romp around, or a Broadway play that the better half doesn’t want to miss? I don’t think so. Spending money? Who needs it? Everyone else picks up the tab.

Jesse Molina, why did you make me an offer I couldn’t refuse? $1 an hour. Why didn’t you say, “Son, stay in college, go to law school and make your place in the lucrative world of federal government politics.”
I’ve missed my calling — that’s for sure. Not that I’m going to have a whole lot of time to worry about it because that pile of work on my desk in my not-so-Oval-Office, is calling me and will not take “no” for an answer. Camp David will have to wait; there are signs to be done and deadlines to be met!

I may not be the president, but, according to my clients, my job is awfully important. And feeling important is one of the really great benefits of the career I chose. That and all the cash, of course.

So, back to the trenches and back to work for me.

Have a great month.
---Rick