Chapter 3: Now Open!

Workin' the Laundry

The key to being a good manager is simple: hire good people. For centuries, idiots have been hiding incompetence behind competent employees and, when done right, this strategy can work rather well. Geniuses who hire morons are doomed to fail (see bad guys from any Bond Film for reference). Even worse are morons who hire morons (see current United States President for reference, or for that matter - all those republicans who voted the moron into office **twice** in the first place - thanks for that).

I, on the other hand, don't pretend to be a genius, and I generally do a good job of hiding my incompetence, so hiring employees could have gone either way. Add on the fact that I am opening a brand new store that has the burden of luring people away from the well established competitors and you will see why good employees are key.

So with all that in mind, I placed tiny help wanted signs in the window and waited to see what would happen. After receiving 61 applications in less than two days, I took the signs down. So many people fighting for a close to minimum wage job seems depressing, doesn't it? Don't get me wrong, I'm not judging them, I'm merely shaking my head at the situation that quite a lot of people find themselves in. Ahh well - I suppose it's more important to spend $10 billion a month on Iraq than to figure out how to help people here. Wow - I just realized that I've been making way too many political references - OK, no more - on to more important topics like the red head who works at the coffee shop down the street. Mmmmm Red Head.

Back to the employees for a moment - I consider myself particularly skilled at putting good teams together. Maybe it's intuition, maybe it's luck. I don't know. With the Emerson Mafia I've had outstanding luck thus far. With Audrey Appleton, my team has performed better than I had even hoped for. So now, with the laundry, I find myself quite pleased with the results - for the most part anyway.

The crew...

Nicole:
The first employee I hired was a girl named Nicole. Between you and I, I probably wouldn't have hired Nicole if I had stopped to think about it. In fact, the only reason I did hire her was because I was in the laundry one day bitching to myself about the fact that I needed a helper to get everything ready to open - and low and behold, at that exact moment, this girl named Nicole came knocking on the window asking if I was hiring. We chatted for a few minutes - she filled out an application - she told me about her experience working at Home Depot and presto. That's about the gist of it anyway.

Nicole is fantastic. She's a good worker. She gets along with customers. She's great ... uhhh ... when she shows up for work that is. In the first two weeks of employment, I think Nicole actually worked maybe three complete shifts. The first day she worked the whole day. The second she worked for a couple of hours and then told me her mother just called and informed a family member just died ***I of course let her leave*** Next day she couldn't show up because she needed to attend the funeral (next day??) ***I of course let her leave *** There was that time she needed to leave early to take her drivers exam , she failed. And that time she was late because her building lost power and her alarm didn't go off. And more recently ***on a saturday morning mind you*** she was terribly sick and constantly running off to the rest room to throw up. I asked her what was wrong and ... well ... she thought she may have been pregnant. I snapped a picture.
I had a chat with her and decided to give her one last chance. So far she's been good. Oh - and in case you were curious - she isn't in fact pregnant. I'm shocked.

Carmen:

(PICTURE TO BE ADDED LATER)
Carmen is a gem. She's Puerto Rican. She speaks fluent Spanish. What more can I say? She has a bit of an attitude sometimes. Not a bad attitude mind you. Just an attitude that comes out as if she doesn't realize she's giving it. Anyway - I don't have much to say about Carmen other than the fact that she's great. The manager of the Family Dollar informed me that on the day I hired her, Carmen was dancing in the aisles and telling everyone that she's going to be working at the laundry. She also likes to work nights. This surprised me considering the area and considering that she has to walk several blocks home at midnight. I was worried at first - but Carmen is a tough cookie and I doubt the gang bangers and drug dealers would stand much of a chance against her. So nights she wants - nights she gets.

Yvonne:

Yvonne is the most recent hire. She's quieter than I expected her to be. She doesn't speak spanish, which is a shame, but she's personable and I've seen her able to communicate well even with the language barrier. Yvonne mostly works in the mornings - which unfortunately at the moment are relatively slow and boring (I'll have to work on that). Of course, Yvonne likes the mornings and asks for them - so - mornings she wants, mornings she gets.


Don Juan:

Don Juan (along with Carmen) is my MVP. He wants to work as much as possible and doesn't care what time of day it is. He used to be an electrician before carpel tunnel, he claims, screwed up his arms and he also used to work for a local sign company. Needless to say he's a good handy man. And yes, his name really is Don Juan. He says that he's gotten a lot of shit for that name and prefers to be called just Don. I think I'll keep calling him Don Juan.

He has a 3 year old daughter, Sammy, currently living with his mother and sister just outside Boston. He has this interesting story about how the mother called him up one day and told him that he needed to come to the hospital. When he got there, she had just given birth and told him that the baby was his and that she wanted nothing to do with it. And so, Don Juan - who hadn't always been such a nice guy - suddenly became a single parent. Sounds like a movie, doesn't it? Anyway, apparently Sammy changed his life. She lived in Chicago with him for two years and then had the opportunity to live with his mother and sister in Massachusetts, and so he sent her off. I asked him why he didn't go as well but he said the opportunities were better in Chicago. I don't know - doesn't make much sense to me - I'll investigate further.

I schedule myself for shifts here and there. I think its important to work in the store and not just in the management capacity. I also really like talking to the customers. There's so many fascinating characters that come along and a lot of genuinely nice people. I mainly work the morning because, unlike Carmen, I happen to be terrified of the gang bangers and drug dealers.

And now I'll leave you with something I stumbled into. Not sure I really want to know what this is.

Chapter 2: Bums, Actors, and Donkey Kong

Dirty People and Dirty Clothes

There’s a bum who sleeps outside the Laundromat most nights. His name is Craig, and he’s probably the most vile person I have yet to encounter so far in my life (except perhaps that one movie producer who wanted to turn my quirky romantic comedy into a gay love story because, of course, Brokeback Mountain was so successful. Humph)

Anyway, back to the bum. His name is Craig. This is his picture. I didn’t want to get too close for fear he’d notice me. Once they notice you paying attention to them, it’s all over. You can smell him half a block away. I’m not exaggerating. Too bad our largest washer is an 80 pounder, otherwise I’d be inclined to toss him in with a few gallons worth of bleach and perhaps a pinch of fabric softener. I’ve instructed all the attendants to immediately call the police if he so much steps foot on the parking lot.

Am I being mean? I don’t think so. Trust me, after working around a laundry for awhile – you’d feel the same way. Besides, there’s more to Craig than meets the eye…or nose. Word from the beat cop is that he’s a pedophile. Apparently he isn’t allowed onto the property anyway because one time he tried to touch some passing children. Granted maybe he didn’t have any ill intentions – but – come on now…would you want your kids being touched by that guy? Besides, I’m running a damn business and do you think anyone’s gonna want to come around with our guest hanging out by the door? Apparently he came to the window the other night and started screaming into the window that my attendant, Carmen, was a bitch. Whether or not that may or may not be true is beside the point.

Craig isn’t our only panhandling pete – there’s also a guy I call the wheelchair dude. WheelChair Dude isn’t so bad actually. He hangs out, listens to his headphones (unconfirmed whether he’s really listening to anything) and asks for money. He doesn’t drink – I’ve never seen him drunk – and everyone tells me that he’s just trying to raise enough money every day to buy an Italian Beef Sandwich at the SubShop down the street. That’s not too bad – but I still can’t let him hang out by the store. After we opened the laundry, I manned up, bought him a pop (it’s called “pop” here – no one says soda) and told him he couldn’t stay in front of the store. He was upset – said that he’s been there for two years. I told him that I had no problem with him staying if he wanted to pay rent. Maybe that was a bit mean – but true.

He comes on the property every once in a while and mostly hangs out by the Family Dollar. The manager, a guy named Larry, is much more lax about that sort of thing. I had a chat with Larry and he agreed that WheelChair Dude had to roll – but so far Larry hasn’t been much use. Makes me miss the days of Drunken John in Kansas City, at least I could put him to work, alas. ***Oh, and by the way, he doesn't need the wheelchair.

While on the subject of crazies, when you spend enough time in coffee shops as I do, you begin to notice all the other regulars. Some of those regulars aren’t quite right. Kansas City in particular was a host to a plethora of crazies. There was:

Scrunched Up Face Chick: who always looked pissed off but when she spoke had the sweetest high pitched voice (You’d have to have seen her)

The Pacer – who was this guy who would sit quietly most days, but every once in a while he would just randomly stand up and start pacing up and down the store saying strange sentences that didn’t make sense

The Bather – She would bathe in the restroom regularly. Seriously. After she left the restroom the entire floor was covered in water and used towels and smelled.

The Rocker – was this homeless guy who sat outside every day bobbing his head to music on his headphones, but when one looked closely they could see the headphones weren’t plugged in to anything

The Creepy Guy – who would sit every day in front of his computer and, when bored, would stare around at everyone in the store … wait a minute … that’s me. Shit!

Anyway – I’ve as of yet only noticed one coffee shop crazy so far. This is what he looks like ….

Again I don’t have the best picture of him for fear that he’d notice me paying attention and try to initiate conversation. This guy, who I’m just gonna call Starbucks Steve, looks normal enough. He’s always chatting with other customers. Of course, when you stop and pay attention you’d notice that no one he is ever chatting to is engaged in the conversation. In fact, they’re always trying to either ignore him or politely trying to get away. Yesterday he started a conversation with some guy a table up from me by saying “You know it’s all going to end when the mushroom clouds goes up anyway. I’m not saying that’ll be tomorrow. No, it’ll be a few years off, but it’ll happen.”

I shit you not. That’s about what he said. I couldn’t make up shit that good. The best was the other guy’s reaction. He just stared blankly for a moment, eventually nodded, and then said “I hope not”.

Pick a random coffee shop somewhere that’s not Beverly Hills and watch for a few hours. You’ll see em.

Mafia in Chicago:

Okay, onto other issues. I contacted a few alumni of my college through my non-profit organization that I started, the Emerson Mafia. Now as I travel to different cities, I’ve realized how valuable that little website can be. I’ve met some interesting people through it that I otherwise would have had no business meeting.

On Monday Night I went out to dinner with a girl named Caitlyn Cone. Caitlyn’s fantastic. We met in front of Wrigley Field and found some hole in the wall bar that had $1 pitchers of beer. Yes that’s right $1 pitchers. Of course it was crappy piss beer and Caitlyn and I drank two pitchers each and barely got a buzz – but hey – it was cheap. I was worried at first that the conversation would be one of those “So what are you doing for work” conversations and just end there – but nope – once we got chatting about the Red Sox my fears were quickly quelled. Seems Caitlyn is a baseball freak. To illustrate this fact, she told me that for her and her boyfriends’ one year anniversary, they decided to fly down to Houston for the weekend because the Red Sox were playing. That’s dedication.

Tuesday night I met a theater girl named Mary. We ended up having dinner, along with several other alums, at a tapas bar. Has everyone been to a tapas bar?? They Suck! I know I know…people will disagree with me on that one, but come on now, they really suck. The first time I had tapas was with Maryn at a place in LA called Cobras and Matadors. While we had fun, and the food was indeed tasty, I distinctly remembering grumbling at the size of the bill compared to the size of my plate. I also recall getting food somewhere else afterwards as we were still hungry.

This place in Chicago, Ba Ba Reeba it was called, was the same deal. The food was great. The atmosphere was great, but at the end of all things each of us paid $40 for barely any food at all. Fucking Spaniards and their overpriced (admittedly delicious though) cuisine. The kids I met were fun. There was Dante who was currently performing in Chicago’s stage version of High School Musical and Jason who was a tour guide on an architectural boat tour that I should apparently go on. Mary currently works in the marketing department for Corona and tells me she gets to drink beer at the office – not too shabby. There were a few others but…well I already forgot their names. Doh!

Dinner ended around 10pm and everyone was going to a bar a few doors up, but I declined the offer to join them. It was a school night and I had already decided to get up and at the laundry by 6:00 or so the next morning. Damn my sense of responsibility.

The King of Kong: A fistful of quarters

Last night I obtained tickets to a free screening of a documentary titled “The King of Kong: a fistful of quarters”. It’s about a school teacher going after the world record for Donkey Kong. I figured it’d be fun and, considering we my attendant Don Juan and I have a growing rivalry for dominance of the arcade game “Galaga” which is located at the laundry, I figured I’d invite him along. (Okay – I’ll talk about my employees in the next post, but yes, his name really is Don Juan)

First and foremost – this film is amazing. GO SEE IT. I can honestly say that it is probably my favorite film of the year so far. Even if you aren’t into video games GO SEE IT. This isn’t a documentary about video games. It isn’t a documentary about Donkey Kong. This is a documentary about Good vs Evil. And it’s real.

Billy Mitchell has a big, scary mullet. He is officially the gamer of the century. He holds the world records for many of the classic arcade games. A few years back he scored a “Perfect Score” on PacMan. Think about Pac Man for a second, and think about what it means for a perfect score. I think maybe one other person has ever gotten that. But really who the fuck cares, it’s pac man. Video Games aren’t the point. Billy Mitchell is the best – the champion. In the 80’s he obtained the record for Donkey Kong – agreed to be the hardest game ever made.

Shoot to modern day. Steve Wiebe is a nice guy. Talented at many things, but never exceptional. One day he was laid off from work and was looking for something to do. He went online and saw the top score for Donkey Kong and said “Hey, I can beat that”. He bought an arcade machine and played in his garage – mapping out strategies by drawing onto the glass of the machine. He has a family and a way too understanding wife.

This movie is about Steve trying to be the best in the world at something and Billy doing everything and anything in his power to stop him. Billy Mitchell is evil. He is the villain of the year.

I know I’m not doing this justice. The film is phenomenal. Funny as shit. You’ll be shocked at this underground world of nerds who take this shit so damned seriously. Also, strangely enough, the mecca for the classic gamer is an arcade called Fun Spot in New Hampshire which was an arcade I frequented when I was a kid. I had no idea I was standing in the halls of greatness. (To some of these people anyway)

Trust me. Find this movie.

I just bought a new camera to replace the one I lost, so my pics should hopefully get better.

And Now, I’ll leave you with a bit of cultural genius. I only hope that someday I can contribute to society something as great as the below.

Chapter 1: A way too long explanation

This is the story of a guy named Tom Grey ... and a laundromat.



There are generally 3 types of people in this world: those who want to read my blog, those who couldn't give a shit and won't, and those who couldn't give a shit but hate their jobs and have nothing better to do than waste away their day and their company's money. If you disagree with my assessment, feel free to post a disputing comment - but be warned that I myself do not give a shit and probably won't read it. So, now that we've got that out of the way, let's begin.

Some of you may be aware that I had kept a blog a few months back to chronicle my adventures in Kansas City. If you are among that group, you are likely aware that my efforts lasted a whole two weeks before I abandoned the blog entirely. Despite many requests, I just gave up. But now - after Kansas City has long since become a closed chapter in my life - I can't help but feel an overwhelming sense of regret. Now I can never look back at a logged account of my adventures with the 3 random married women, Quigg's Death Cleanse, Andy and Big D, LLD Stacy, Starbucks girls and their StarBQ's, Miss Bad News, Crashing a huge wedding with Steve Eddy, Maryn and giant Shuttle Cocks, Losing $1,000 bet about what movie came first; Batman and Robin or Batman Forever (damn you Joel Schumacher!), Sushi James, Invisible Audrey Artists, and countless other things that you have absolutely no idea what I'm talking about. Most of all though, Kansas City was in many ways life altering. The experience was priceless. The money was liberating. And some of the friendships will endure.

Long story short - I'm a fucking moron. But this detail is not new.

So, now that I have an equally, if not more interesting, adventure to chronicle in the city of Chicago - I'm going to vow not to repeat history. I'm going to do what I pretend to do best - write. (though excuse me if I'm not going to go for a Pulitzer with this blog). WARNING: I'm long winded and this is a no holds barred blog - there's nothing I won't talk about. So if you interact with me - you may or may not want to read. Just thought I'd say it.



The Beginning: into the SpinCycle:
If you don't know where I am and how I got here - I'll recap.

It was exactly 3 years ago. In the early months of 2004, I had foolishly decided to take some time away from working to concentrate exclusively on writing. It was a romantic vision of writing - getting up everyday with nothing to think about except the screenplay. Hours upon hours of unfettered creativity. Progress beyond progress. A writer's dream.

Hmmm...yeah not so much. After a few months, all I had really managed to do was burn through my money, rack up some considerable debt, watch a lot of daytime TV court shows (Texas Justice with Judge Larry Joe was a particular favorite), and write 100 drafts of a screenplay that I still hate. Writing was quickly turning into a typical girlfriend - leaving me broke, tired, and frustrated.

Then came August and an opportunity to get a stand-by ticket to Seattle to visit my friend and (semi-sort of-what?) ex Sarah for a weekend. I say semi-sort of-what because Sarah and I had a long history of friendship and then some that ultimately is long and confusing...we're good friends now though. Anyway, Sarah lived in Boston at the time, but she used to live in Seattle, and she was there for a weekend to attend a Bar Mitzvah of some guy in his 20's who seemed to skip that ceremony in his youth. Having no money, I of course jumped at the opportunity to rack up some more debt and hopped on a standby flight North.

Also in Seattle that weekend was a guy named Scott. Scott lived in Los Angeles, but happened to be in Seattle for the ceremony. He used to live in Seattle, but had recently moved to LA to work at some laundry company. I wondered why anyone would want to work in a laundromat - it seemed like such a waste of life and I immediately figured Scott to be some dead beat asshole. Sarah didn't particularly want me to meet Scott. You see, she and Scott were "friends" at one point and figured our interaction might be awkward. It wasn't. Alcohol has an amazing ability to subdue awkwardness, when you're the one who's drunk at least. Alcohol also has an amazing ability destroy all rational thought, and so, when Scott mentioned that his work was looking for someone to temp for a week, I easily agreed.

"When do you fly back to LA?" he asked.
"Late Sunday night" I replied.
"Great, you can come in Monday morning then"

And that's about the gist of it. I flew back to LA - the plane was late and was forced to land at the wrong airport for some reason. I have a vague memory of Maryn and Quiggs picking me up at the John Wayne Airport- but I'm not 100% sure on that detail - I got 3 hours of sleep - dragged myself out of bed the next morning - drove to East LA - and began my "week long" temp job. My cleaning career began.

It turns out they needed a temp because their employee, a girl named Jenny who seemed way too capable of doing everything, was going on vacation and the place would apparently fall apart without her. It also turned out that Scott didn't in fact work in a laundromat - but rather in an office with gray walls, no windows, and exposed water pipes that could easily kill you if they blew (I'm not sure what's worse). The company was a distributor, broker, and builder of coin operated laundromats and equipment. They had recently acquired the nation's largest chain of laundries, SpinCycle, for a great bundle of money and had plans to liquidate all 172 stores in 16 states for an even greater bundle of money.

A cocky Indian named Shanto told me on my first day that I'd be sucked in like he was and still be working there a year from then. I told him he was crazy and that I was planning to return to the entertainment world after my week was up. Turns out that bastard was right.

I won't go into considerable detail as this post is already long and I'm tired. But the following three years turned out of be memorable ones. I was part of a team, the LuckySpinner's we were called, and together we sold or otherwise disposed of 170 of the 172 laundries and did in fact make the company that great bundle of money they were looking for. It may not sound all that interesting to some of you entertainment types - but to be honest I'm proud to have been a part of that group. I met some good people and it turns out that Scott is both a dead beat and an asshole :-)

In addition, it seems that keeping myself busy also improved my ability to write. By working a job that I had no real long term aspirations in, I found myself looking for any and every opportunity to write. I would wake up at 5am - go to the coffee shop to write for a few hours - go to work - and then return to the coffee shop to write for a few more hours before going home - sleeping - and doing the whole thing again. When I started with the laundry company - I had 2 screenplays - now I have 17 and two manuscripts - some of them are better than others but the experience of writing them is priceless.

The final two laundries were in Kansas City and somehow I was given the opportunity to live there for a little while and sell them. After a while I agreed - had an adventure in Kansas City - sold the stores - and came back. Apparently I did something right (I call it luck) as I was quickly offered a similar opportunity in Chicago.

I had never been to Chicago, but it was the last great American City to visit. Needless to say - I was excited. My mission is simple - open a brand new laundromat - run it - sell it.

And so, that's how I came to find myself running an all cash business on a sketchy street in the murder capital of America. Joy.

If I haven't been shot, tune in next week for more over explained ramblings. I'm going to buy a new camera to replace the one I lost on my trip over here.