I can’t decide which is flakier, that Suzie French lady or MS Vista. They both insist on pretending something they are not. I wrestled with Vista Home Edition for three hours and could not get the thing to work right. It has so many anti-piracy safeguards built in that it has become unwieldy. It can take up to 15 seconds after a mouse press to get the action to “take”. Of course, Suzie is leaning over my shoulder complaining every inch of the way. I finally told her to quit that. She had a fit. I left. Can you see me putting up with shit from some 62 year old broad with an attitude.
Meanwhile, all my students for the day cancelled out. That means I was over at Lois’ for the duration. She is mature in her plans to succeed, but she is still a kid when it comes to the overall operation of even a small business. Until we talked today, she had no concept of getting by without a credit card, and had never heard anyone refuse to accept credit. (Here is a fuzzy picture of her; this is not surreptitious. The camera tripped when I reached to shut off my voice recorder.)We went shopping for computer and imprinting supplies. She was astounded by the amount we got done in an hour. Particularly when I tell salespeople to successfully look for things they swear they are sold out of. At the ink cartridge display, I calculated there was $120,000 worth of cartridges along that one wall, at retail. Lois had never been to Big Lots before and I had to bundle her out of there before she really started spending. See how she is in wonderment at some of the prices.
I actually went to her place to try to find my missing software disk. It isn’t there, so it is gone. Ouch. We unpacked her heat transfer machine. It is two flat plates, one heated. These press a transfer onto a t-shirt. Those who remember the imprint business I dabbled with in the 90’s would recognize the system. These things require a considerable amount of expensive practice to work right. We could not try it out because of logistics problems.
The designs have to be created, then printed on a transfer sheet. These sheets are different depending on whether your printer is inkjet or laser, we opted for the inkjet solely because Office Max had the product. Plus a set of expensive color cartridges. Guess what, the second hand printer she bought won’t print black. This wastes the printer, the cartridges and the time spent chasing around over it all.
Lois is anxious to get some product out there. But none of the equipment has been individually tested, and certainly none of the machines have been tested as a set in a production environment. My guess is two months before something saleable is ready. I reminded her of my first advice which is to learn to do as much of the process by hand as possible. That may mean getting a good old ironing board.
This heated plate machine is what you’d expect. It is the exact model you used to see in those t-shirt kiosks in the mall. It has a thermostat and a timer, a combination I naturally mistrust unless it is a coffee pot. Deceptively simple, experience tells me that in the long run, including carrying supplies and material up to her second floor apartment, that at the end of the day, each finished (printed) t-shirt is going to cost around $5 and require 15 minutes of her time in some way. If I’m around when it gets rolling, we’ll see how close I guessed.
A Bank of America manager burned me for $10 at the shop. That is what I charge for $15 of advice. He came in with a laptop but did not have a clue how to get on the Internet. He was with his friend, who he said was the person who really wanted to learn. When I turned toward the friend for a minute, he disappeared, and of course, the friend claimed he had no money.
That is when I just said to hell with the day and drove over to Lois’. She was tuckered out from work, so instead of the scheduled lesson, we hung out until 10:00 p.m. It is novel to hear her talk about Nirvana and Motley Crue, for I see them as part of the “Makeup Rock” crowd. She is quick to point out all the guts, gore and devil worship are all fake. It is not a matter of age, for I still find as little entertainment value in it as I did when I was even younger than she is today. Are you gonna play that guitar or disembowel a pig? I kind of want to know before I fork over for a ticket because I value these two options separately.
She is into Halloween, yes, the items are already on the store shelves. She bought a pencil box with a skull on the cover and just loved the spider, rat and snake display. Like the slime and gore “rock” bands, she assures me this just a kind of harmless thing. I’m inclined to believe that. It is strange to hear such music referred to as rock, because it is not. It uses the same instruments, but the music is only vaguely reminiscent of rock in its heyday. Except for some predictable computerized laser effects, the stage props haven’t changed that much since 1980. Who know, maybe Lois will rekindle my interest in some of it.
I get three phone calls from New York, all about the web page. I am going to have to make things clear shortly that that is not my puppy and I will not take over the project. This is to avoid a confrontation later because it seems some people feel if I know about computers, their bad web site is somehow my responsibility. There is no making them understand that I have nothing to do with it.
Today means also that I did not follow up with the Tuesday gig situation. It was more fun to spend the day with Lois. The club will be there next week. Other performers may find this stance odd, but put it this way: In terms of education, business experience and style of life, I have far more sympathy toward club owners than with musicians.
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