A New Adventure

It has been a long week. And, it's only Monday. 

I am the new operations manager for Tessa's office. I will (eventually) be working part time, but right now I'm raking in the hours helping her get resettled after a major and unexpected upheaval. 

I wasn't very useful today, as I don't know the systems they have in place. I did look into new phone lines. Tell me how do you run a small business and not have even one phone in your office? I also wrote and posted a position in Indeed that Tessa desperately needs. I ran to Office Depot and bought scissors and file folders for my desk. I spoke with the corporate office who graciously are getting me training I need. And, I agreed to go to Vegas in February for their corporate pow-wow where I can learn even more about running a brokerage. 

For the most part, I enjoyed today. I have a lot to learn. I like the support staff that is currently in place. They are really enjoyable people and will make the office fun. I like being busy and not having to deal with the crazy that comes from a buyer deciding they want $20 thousand off the price because the seller painted their home the wrong shade of beige (true story). I think I will enjoy this. And I know I will enjoy this more when it is part time. 

Dallas Traffic is No Worse than Phoenix Traffic

Yesterday Marty and I drove to Dallas. Actually, I drove because I wanted to see how comfortable I felt driving on Interstate 30 and through Dallas. It turns out I still have my defensive driving skills and I can still maneuver in awful traffic. 

Driving into Dallas has been a concern as Marty and I discuss my upcoming trip. Do I drive to Dallas and catch a flight on Southwest out of Love Field? Do I fly the American Airlines' puddle-jumper out of the Texarkana airport and change planes at Dallas/Fort Worth International? Do I drive through Dallas and keep going West till I hit Phoenix? 

The jury is still out on my travel arrangements. Part of it depends on how I structure my trip once I get to Phoenix. Another part of it depends on what I end up doing for Tessa and her office. And then there's the rumor, fueled by my brother and not confirmed by anyone, that my father is giving Buckaroo his car and I may be driving it back to Texarkana. At any rate, I'm giving myself till Friday to figure out my travel arrangements. 

A Week of Employment

Tessa and I have spent the week setting up and knocking down boundaries. Originally brought in to just be a transaction coordinator (which is just a glorified paper pusher), we started off Monday with her telling me she wanted to put me on the payroll. Nope. I want to be a contractor, paid by each sale. By Wednesday I demanded a raise: put me on the payroll and pay me by the transaction. Thursday night, I insisted on a new title. 

For some weird reason, Tessa seems to think I am some sort of business genius. She keeps saying, "You ran a brokerage," as if that qualifies me to instantly take over all things she is thinking I need to take over. The truth be told, yes, I did run a successful brokerage. But I got along with my entire staff of me, and my paperwork was simple.  

I also ran a property management company for 15 years, which better qualifies me for what she's looking for. But if she knew the truth, she'd ghost my calls. Or, I'd ghost hers. 

This past week, after all the years Tessa's been managing her brokerage, she had some serious upheaval. It had nothing to do with my arrival, and the timing wasn't suspect, just unfortunate for me and, come to think of it, probably even more unfortunate for her. 

That said, I interviewed someone yesterday for a position that Tessa's staff doesn't even know is open. I also recommended Tessa not hire the woman I interviewed (pro tip: don't start your interview bitching about the company you are interviewing with). I am coordinating training for new agents next week. I helped her process some legal employment issues ("Please talk to your attorney and get a new forensic accountant. Go to Dallas if you can't find one here."). And, last night in an afterhours run to her office, I helped her clean out the files and remove the computer of one of her employees she is pretty sure is going rouge. 

What Tessa doesn't know is that she's on probation with me. I have a short window of patience. At the moment I'm of the opinion that if her employment issues get resolved, things in her office will be significantly better. But as far as I'm concerned, I signed up to be a glorified paper pusher. I have no desired to be a babysitter. If I wanted that, I'd run another property management company. 

 

The Biggest Culture Shock

The Sunshines are are foodies. No, that's not right. We are food snobs.

Texarkana has been very hard on us food snobs. There's no meatball subs anywhere--even though we've been to two restaurants where meatball subs were prominently mentioned on their web site. The best we found was a plate of spaghetti and meatballs and as Buck pointed out, "These are just the frozen meatballs, they didn't even add any salt." 

Mexican food has been so disappointing, that I think we are giving up. But I'm sorry, an enchilada with--and I'm not making this up--a can of Hormel chili (the menu "your choice of with or without beans") is just gross.

Personally, I'm a big fan of plastic American cheese, an indulgence, really. But honestly, I'm at my limit when I find it smothering my brisket. Even I dress up my box of Kraft before serving it. 

Restaurant side dishes consist of grits, okra, over-boiled green leafy things that are begging for some sort of seasoning. Marty, who grew up on that kind of food thinks that is perfectly acceptable fare, but this is even pushing his tolerance. As for me, none of those sounded great when I lived in Arizona, so I don't see me tucking in now. 

Sure, there's Olive Garden and Outback Steakhouse. We found Cracker Barrel and Dominos. There's Wataburger and a Church's Chicken on every other corner and a smattering of smaller chain-type restaurants you've probably heard of. None of which is our style. If I can cook it, I don't want to buy it. Also, I have a moral code: I will not pay $15 for a plate of pasta that I can make at home for $2.50. Plus, I wouldn't put it past the folks here to fancy it up by adding the plastic American cheese or a can of Hormel to the top of it.  

After last weekend's meatball hunt, I think all of us are pretty much taxed on what we are willing to eat. Tonight, pot roast--cooked by me, with vegetable stew (a family staple) cooked by Marty and maybe some roasted sweet potatoes with good seasoning. Buck will probably handle the sweet potatoes. Polly might make the dessert. 

If the whole job in Texarkana doesn't work out, we could probably open a restaurant. Too bad the rest of the city's population wouldn't appreciate our cuisine. 

Chronicles of New Boss at the Past Job

 Y'all remember New Boss don't you? He was the crazy one in charge of Marty's life at his former position. 

Of the 13 people New Boss managed: 

One is hospitalized and critically ill (I've actually kept in touch with her)

Another walked off the job in October

Another gave notice in November. 

Marty also gave notice in November. 

Two gave gave notice the first week of January. 

Marty also heard a rumor (from one of the two) that two more were retiring. 

That can't be good for New Boss. 

When Marty left, nobody had been hired to fill the boots of the guy who walked off the job or anyone else's role. 

This past week, one of his former colleague told him that he (former colleague) was to write his own yearly performance review and submit it to New Boss. The same colleague said they were overworked and morale is at an all time low if that's possible. 

"I thought morale was at an all time low last summer." I said. 

"So did I," Marty replied. 

Meanwhile, I am told Marty likes his new job. When I asked him what was the best part so far, he said, "no New Boss." 

The Great Taco Hunt

It has been my long-time rule to simply bypass Mexican food East of the Mississippi. However, since moving to Texas, I have changed this to just staying away from Mexican food East of the Rio Grande.  After determining that we just weren't going to find reasonable Mexican food (and Heaven knows, we have exhausted all options), the Sunshine family has been out for a quest for tacos. It's a minor consolation, but how can one screw up tacos? 

Well, the answer to that question sounds simple, but Texas has found a way. In addition to bad tortillas, every taco joint we have gone to has managed something offensive. It's as if the concept of a simple street food is just too backwoods for this small town and they are overcompensating with weird flavor combinations. Buck had Korean bbq tacos this week. Marty had potato tacos last week. I tried something called "spicy chorizo tacos" this past week as well. In this case, "spicy chorizo" was really ground beef with a smidgen of cumin and--I'm not making this up--battered, deep fried jalapenos on top to give the taco the kick. It was garnished with corn and American cheese. 

Last week Tessa, thinking she was offering me a chance of a lifetime, took me out to a taco joint where I ate a fried avocado taco. 

Lest you think I'm searching for exotic tacos, I am not. I am searching for real tacos. Shredded beef or chicken, lettuce tomato and real cheese in a corn tortilla. The basics. If the chef throws in some seasoning, my feelings wouldn't be hurt. Unfortunately Texarkana hasn't seemed to master this.  

Small Town Employment

Yesterday, Marty sent me a text: "Check the bank account." Given that he hasn't had a pay check since December 8, those words seemed a bit ominous. 

Instead, it turns out his company paid him early. Well, actually, they paid him a week late (there was some confusion about the direct deposit and a certain left-handed husband of mine might have done well to have written a bit neater on his employment forms, but that's another story). Marty was supposed to have been paid last Friday. But instead of making him wait until the next pay period, they threw in that missing check several days earlier. I'm not the least bit sad. Plus, I'm hearing they are paying him for the time he was out sick as well last week. 

Yea, so far I'm liking Marty's new job. 

Tessa

I met with Tessa yesterday. She is the designated broker/owner of the real estate company that helped Marty and I buy our house. The meeting was inevitable. She told me last November she wanted me to come to her brokerage and become her Designated Broker. 

Before I met with her, I was convinced there was no way I would go back into real estate. I am now not as convinced. But I'm not willing to run over to the Texas Department of Real Estate and figure out how to be licensed yet, either. 

What Tessa truly needs is to get a handle on what's going on in her brokerage. She's so busy selling, she's not paying attention to her office. She has a CFO (why, she's a small business??) who is also the office manager. She has a Director of Marketing. These are fancy titles for two people who handle all of her money and her corporate messaging. And, from what I understand, this CFO/office manager is also building a bit of an empire  as well. The Director of Marketing is taking direction from the CFO Chick and Tessa is feeling uncomfortable. However, Tessa's let this situation fester for too long and these two women have too much power. Tessa knows this. Tessa isn't sure what exactly to do.  

Telling me all of this didn't make me want to jump right into the hornet's nest, clean house and then deal with the aftermath. However, I told Tessa--after talking for 30 minutes--"I don't know your CFO Chick as well as you do, but even I know you need to immediately have an audit done on your books." Tessa had been thinking about it, but she was afraid of making CFO Chick, "mad." 

"But it's your business! Your future. Your reputation and livelihood!" I said, ignoring all sorts of societal boundaries. 

It is safe to say, I am totally not interested in jumping into that mess and becoming her Designated Broker. But I do have a few issues I need to take care of. The main one being I am becoming too much of a hermit. I need to get out once in a while. Polly and Buck could also use some space from me. 

I offered Tessa to be her transaction coordinator as long as there was a clear understanding of what it entailed. And, given I was creating the position, I was more than willing to tell her. I don't work nights and weekends. I don't call clients, nor do I hunt down this and that. I don't run errands. I don't take phone calls. I handle paperwork and I will help her put systems in place for the agents so that the paperwork is handled consistently (with whatever process I come up with). I want to be paid by the transaction. Plus, I want to start with one transaction and go from there. That way, if I don't like it, or being a hermit is more appealing, I can bow out gracefully. 

Tessa agreed to all of this, but asked if I wasn't interested in being her new Designated Broker, might I possibly be interested in an office manager job down the line. "No. But I will help you find one when the time comes," was the best I would give her.  

Ailments

For the past two weeks Texarkana has been having its own challenges related to the bat flu. 

Our bank was closed.

One of the two DMV offices in the county was closed. 

Wal-Mart grocery store was closed from Thursday through Sunday morning. 

The Boot Barn was closed for the weekend. 

Our church's choir was out for a week. 

So, it is no wonder that Marty was required to take a bat flu test before returning to work. The "free" test, by the way, is not free. It is $300 for those without insurance (and without a paycheck). Not that it mattered, he couldn't return to work without taking the test. However, his company did let him work from home most of the week and ended up reimbursing him for the test. 

I have no idea if Polly, Buck or I suffered through the the actual illness. But I do know we are on the mend from some sort of ailment that took about five days to work its way out our system, as is most of Texarkana from what I understand. 

Here's to hearing Polly sing this week and getting Buckaroo EMT work boots. 

Last Night's Blizzard

 

The "Blizzard's" Aftermath

Last night, during the snowfall, Polly and I went outside and tried to make a snowman on the car. But alas, snowman snow is better the next day, when it has had a chance to compact a bit more. So, my snowman was more of a snow blob.  

As I write this, the 1/2 inch of snow is melting, but it was pretty while it lasted. Supposed to be 50 degrees today. 

I Need a Teleportation Thingy

So it looks like I'm heading to Phoenix on or around March 1. I apologize now if I can't see you while I'm in town--whether it's because you will be in the Southern Hemisphere or because I'm only in town for four days and I'm going to be on the West side, focused on Dad. I'm sorry. I will do my best. I'm already stressed about this. 

I am coming to babysit my father. His housemate has obligations that are taking precedent and someone has to take him to breakfast, the doctor and the Phoenix Genealogical Society meeting, the latter two are scheduled that week. Breakfast is a daily thing and unfortunately a non-negotiable. I will also be making his lunch and dinner, doing his housework and laundry. If I get a chance to sneak away, I will swing by and say hello. 

If its any conciliation, I'm told I am coming back in May. At that time, I won't be needed for housework and dinner duties. Probably. So, I might have more spare time. 

Marty is suggesting I drive. I am suggesting I fly. It appears the cost is roughly the same, if you factor in hotel room versus driving to Dallas and flying from there. Neither option truly appeals to me.

Boomhauer

I've lived in Texas three weeks. I've hired a guy named--and I'm not making this up--Boomhauer to build a ramp for me so I can get into our back shed (the shed is about 18 inches off the ground). He is as nice as can be.

Boomhauer has also been hired to replace some lights in the master bedroom. At least I think I have hired him. I can barely understand Boomhauer. Marty can't understand him either. We think he might be speaking with one of the following accents: Cajun or Klingon or just Texan. We don't know. We don't care if he does good quality work and his price is right. 

He also has a dog named (we are pretty sure) Molly he brings with him. Molly understands him beautifully. She has us at a disadvantage.  

The Rube Goldberg of Texas Driving

 For those of you who don't know what a Rube Goldberg machine is, this is a fabulous video explanation. Take your time, I'll wait. 

In case the link doesn't work: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Y8cuuP4Jmio 

You are welcome.

For those of you who want a quick explanation, a Rube Goldberg is the long, drawn out process for getting something done. Generally this is some weird contraption that starts a chain reaction of events to complete some mundane task. Like getting a Texas driver's license. 

So, I'm trying to get a Texas driver's license. 

But first! I must register my car.

In order to register my car, I need Texas car insurance.  

But before I can register my car, I must get an inspection done on my car. 

But before I can get an inspection done on my car I need to find a place that does these elusive car inspections. When I find one, I must set an appointment because apparently the demand for such things is sky high right now with the rush of people moving into Texarkana. Who knew?

But before I can get this inspection done, thus proving my car is "fit to drive," I need to get the van's windshield replaced. You see, it has a foot-long crack in the middle that spreads every time it freezes and then hits 70 degrees in the same day, like every day. Also, because I am fussy and my car has certain traits that need this particular product, I want factory-certified glass. 

But before I can get factory certified glass, I have to find someone who is brave and patient enough to order factory-certified glass. I found one company but they have a "shipping delay," and will let me know. Plus, they want to see my insurance, which I might have mentioned, hasn't been updated. 

The insurance won't be updated until Marty has a few paychecks. Once we have a way to pay for the new insurance, we will get all of the above done. 

Sunday's Musings

Not to jinx it or anything, but the sun is shining. I mean really shining--not shining from the SAD lamp I bought in desperation on my second day living in Texas. The weather here is nuts. It didn't hit 30 degrees last Sunday and we are pretty sure there were snow flurries. It rained on and off the past two days and it is currently 67 degrees. In fact, Friday afternoon, I was trying to figure out how the high of the day (35 degrees) at noon was going to reach the anticipated low for that night (60 degrees) in the next twelve hours. It didn't. Weather here isn't exactly accurate. Arizonans are spoiled. 

In other news, half of my house is ill with the flu. Marty is looking at missing work if he doesn't have a miraculous recovery by tomorrow. Polly is currently curled up by the fire, frustrated she missed her first opportunity to sing in the church choir. Buck and I are on the verge, but I don't anticipate either of us getting worse than this. Today the infirmed are watching youtube videos and anime (which is Japanese cartoons). The healthy are writing, reading or playing on the computer.  

Also today, someone needs to run to the grocery store. We are out of all those fun things like milk and Dr. Pepper (for those who drink it) and tea bags. As nobody is terribly hungry from this flu bug, we are in the "plenty of fluids" type of diet right now. And given it isn't raining at this very moment--and I still haven't bought an umbrella--right now is a good time today. The weather station is predicting rain in an hour. But then again, I no longer believe them. 

Home on Arizona

 

I live in a city called, "Wake Village." Its population is 5,392 as of 2019 and is a little less than 3 square miles. It is on the outskirts of Texarkana and you'd have to cross under Interstate 369 (that is only 2 miles and really goes nowhere) to get into Texarkana. 

Wake Village was founded in 1942 and used for housing for the Red River Army Depot, which is a few miles from here. The city was named after Wake Island. There are streets called, "Burma," "Manilla," and "Singapore." At first I couldn't figure out why in this tiny little place there would be a street called, Arizona. Then I read the city's history. Bingo. The USS Arizona had just sunk and those in charge paid tribute.

I live on Arizona Avenue. My house is one of the newer ones, built in 2002. It is in a quiet area, near the woods and about a mile from Marty's job. At first I thought we'd make lots of jokes about the coincidence between being from Arizona and living on Arizona, but it hasn't panned out that way. Instead this is just home. 

The Nextdoor App

I became familiar with the Nextdoor App while living in Mesa. And sometimes, when I was totally bored, I'd spend a few minutes, cuddled up on the sofa, a big bowl of popcorn and entertain myself by reading the comments. This was a usual snippet: 

Post: I see that nobody respects the mask optional policy and all you Trump supporters need to die!!! 

Replies: I soo agree. I hope they all find Covid and keel off leaving the rest of us alone. 

Other Reply: Mind your business you people stole the election. 

or

Post: I'm rehoming my cat. 

Reply: How could you be so cruel! You must be a Biden voter. 

Other Reply: I need bait in the dog fights. I will take your cat. 

Next Reply: How dare you! I bet you aren't vaxxed!

or

Post: Did anyone hear the gunshots in front of the Bank of America at 2 p.m. today? There were a lot of police cars in that parking lot right afterwards. Any idea what was happening? 

Reply: Too bad (insert politician/celebrity/person in the news) wasn't shot. That'd make the world better. 

Here is what I'm finding on the Nextdoor App in Small Town America. 

Poster: I lost my dog. Here's a picture. 

Reply: I have an hour, I can help you search. Where did you last see your puppy? 

Next Reply: My neighbor just found a dog who looks like yours. I will put you in touch. 

or 

Poster: Escaped convict from the Federal Pen. 

Reply: Here's more information on the guy. 

Other reply: I googled his name. He was in for drugs. On Facebook it says he has a friend about five miles from the prison.

Reply: They caught him! The police went to the friend who ratted him out. All your doors can unlock now. 

More replies: Thank you Jesus/Great news/Hope they throw the book at him.   

or--and this was my absolute favorite!  

Poster: Free cast iron frying pan. Nothing wrong with it. 

Me: I need a frying pan, when can I pick it up?