July 28, 2018

Yesteryear
One year ago today: July 28, 2017, okay until 1850 A.D.
Five years ago today: July 28, 2013, a long ago Sunday.
Nine years ago today: July 28, 2009, remember Lecticia?
Random years ago today: July 28, 2011, , the club that didn't hire me . . .

           See here my sanding the lid for my “medicine chest”. That’s the wooden box that contains no medicine, but holds the medicine bottles full or the doodads that are hardest to find when I need them. This busy pictures showss my belt sander. This used to be the lid of a chest of drawers that got junked when I opened up the kitchen area. I tend to save the parts that are solid wood. It’s a holdover from the time I saw that wooden box maker pro at Young Circle in Hollywood. He was looking for someone to take over the business, but he wanted somebody with a whole career ahead. At the time, I could not count on five years. Now, my destiny lies in hotdogs.

           Yep, the first thing that came up in the meeting is the state of the hotdog business, now that we better know what to look for. Turns out, Agt. R never did go check is the city is issuing licenses, that could be a costly mistake. But we are now certain very few carts could meet all the standards. My questioning took a long while to sink in about where are all the other carts? They used to be all over that place. Something has changed and I’m sticking to my theory that a lot of them were caught and shut down. Don’t quote me, but I heard a rumor those who run afoul of the food safety rules, along with members of their immediate families, from getting a license for something like ten years.

           Let’s just say my insistence of following the law to the letter seems to be what will pay off. Thousands of carts don’t disappear in a wink unless there is some connection, I merely applied Occam’s Razor. For now, the situation is identical to a mass shut-down and that is what we will plan against. And the true cost of a hot dog? It’s different in every case and the Internet experts, all they do is talk around the point. It’s because they don’t know. In my life of firsts, I’m still the first and only ccountant I know of that in point of fact opened a hotdog cart.
           Now pay attention to that qualification. The only one I know of. That could mean there a many, but to a one, they never between them published a word about it in any form that I could discover. Let’s get back to the Internet and the people who post hotdog videos. The few that say the accurate method is to divide your total output by total expenses. But how many of them know how to calculate these totals. They are a mixture of variable and fixed costs, and all indirect costs must be allocated on a cause and effect basis. See, I think we’ve lost them already.

           Change of subject. Household money. My budget for this month went for a dump and a half. $640+ over and the month ain’t over yet. The gas budget alone was $102 over. That kind of makes a point that I reminded the crew of this morning. If we had, like other people, relied of selling hotdogs to cover our costs right away, we’d be sorely disappointed by now. The cash outflow did not stop just because the cart was paid for. This is significant, that the majority of costs did not become apparent, become known, or even materialize until after the money for the wagon was spent. Nobody, not one of the experts, mentioned a complete and revealing cost estimation.
           I will attempt to get such a cost out there for you, but level 90 accounting is not likely the strong point of anyone in the hotdog business, is what I’m sayin’. I wonder how many people finally did give up when it got too expensive after the fact and/or they could not get any more money to keep going. There are also the bunch who spent the profits before they got ‘em, or blew the money from the first big day without peeling out enough for supplies. I’ve seen all these type of failures, just never seen them with hotdog operations.

           There’s another item I’d like to mention. I told Agt. R that he’d be wise to watch as we go through this startup, exactly how much help he gets from other people. I tuned him in on that because people who live in small towns don’t always get the same lessons from the experience. I know quite well how some will ingratiate themselves to anyone who tries to start something, and that is totally self-interest. So be careful to distinguish between any toadies and someone who genuinely helps out. There is something going on out in the working world that I can’t quite put my finger on. But my hunch says while employment and most other positive indicators will continue to rise, the system is unbalanced and ready for a huge dump.
           And my nagging suspicion is that it will be double digit inflation. I had to replace a marker bulb on the scooter that used to cost 49 cents a pair. Today they were $4.87. That’s what I’m talking about. It’s the same made-in-China bulbs I first bought in 2007. The prices don’t go up across the board, but here and there until the effect overwhelms those who have no control over their income. That would normally be the crowd that lived their whole lives trusting the system will provide. Well, when they vote themselves a share of the public gold, I’ll be doing a Kennedy. My gold will be buried somewhere in Colorado. And since I was there for three months back in ’12, it could be anywhere, if it even exists.

           There’s a picture of the medicine chest with the lid on. And some hardware. It is sitting on my new work stand, just a repurposed coffee table. I don’t need much space to create all kinds of things, it’s a legacy of learning robotics in combination with living in a trailer court. Space is always a premium. Oh, and now that Agt. R is starting to see my point of view on getting any help, exactly how much help have we gotten so far. Zilch. Nada. And the same goes for good advice.

Picture of the day.
Rio.
Remember to use BACK ARROW to return to blog.

           Here’s the mama cat from next door lolling on the cool fresh dirt from the walkway we are making over at Agt. R’s. The afternoon heat stays well over a hundred every day. That’s why I was indoors most of the time. I went out for coffee just past noon and it was like driving the scooter through a blast furnace. If you glance back at the medicine chest, you’ll see the top of the coffee table has been stripped. This is because it is being painted as a chalk board. I’ll have to seal it because until I hit bare spots I didn’t notice the entire table top is some brand of particle board. Drop back tomorrow and I’ll have some pictures of the progress. It is actually a paper-like material. The particles are too small to see, I’m trying to remember where I’ve seen this material before. But it is totally unsuitable for a surface that might get wet.

           It’s a good thing I’m all stocked up, the storm hasn’t let up, rolling thunder west to east all afternoon. Amazingly, the power didn’t go out. I’ve got too many westerns in my DVD, so I chose a Brit drama called “Vera Drake”, about a lady abortionist in the 1950s. Thank god I missed that era, but the influence was constant well into my twenties. The movie accurately portrays the quaint little rooms the British lived in, what did they call them? Flats? The flowery wallpaper with a radio that is treated like a piece of furniture.
           The single message you should get from the movie is do not talk to the police. Even if you are dead guilty caught red-handed, do not talk to the police. They have a thousand ways to twist it, but there is only one reason they want “your side of the story”. The last thing you should ever do is tell the police your side of the story, it merely gives them time to develop a counter. Their purpose is not to get the facts, but to make you look like a liar in court.

           It was in agony I watched Vera Drake talk herself into a prison term. By now, the police have probably questioned others, and witnesses cannot refuse to answer. But you can say you don’t remember. I’m not siding with the bad guys, I’m just saying the police should not be allowed to break the law either. And as far as I’m concerned, lying to get a confession is coercion. You bet I liked that movie.
           That was another influence, in my first and second years of university, when I still believed my parents would send the promised money. I lived in various suites that had that “English” décor. The strange little round light switches, the cranky electric heater in a fake fireplace, and the closet added as an afterthought. Two years I lived like that. The beady-eyed landlady, the curfew, the religious pamphlets under the door. This is when I was 17 and 18, when I should have been having the time of my life. So, I’m enjoying the movie on that basis alone.

           Not being tired, I took a second look at the costing methods available for a hotdog cart. They are medium complex and that is enough to make most street-level estimates somewhere between inaccuate and worthless. For now, I abandon any standard costing for lack of information. I’ll settle for calculating the contribution margin of each batch, based on materials used. But I have no intention of flying blind the way I am almost convinced the others are doing. I know they are guessing, or maybe fudging. My purpose was always to get some actuals on this business. For non-accountants, the contribution margin is what is left over when you subtract the cost of your variable direct materials from your gross revenue.
           That is, subtract the cost of the sodas, wieners, and things that cost more as you sell more. What that gives you is the amount you have left to run the entire remainder of the operation, including pay the taxes. That’s the meaning of contribution margin.
           And you gotta have a sign. Even if you don’t have employees, you gotta have a sign. I have two. What? Yes, I mounted them on those nice wooden bases. I’ve learned a few things this year.

ADDENDUM
           When old Will said ‘tis better to have loved and lost, he didn’t anticipate the scale that modern communications could amplify rejection. Suicide is on the rise, and the media points out it is highest with teens. I say they are missing the point that it is teens who are addicted to social media. It’s not bad enough they get rejected at school and work, now they can be mass-ignored by thousands. I don’t give a hoot about people who get addicted to computer programs, but I agree that the Internet can intensify any negative feelings by making the immediate. My generation felt nobody cared, this generation knows it for sure.
           What got me thinking was that Shakespeare made a point, not that love was good or bad, but that it was impersonal, like the weather. You would not know you had lost at love if that is all that ever happened. Just like you would not know what bad sex was if you were unaware of any other kind. I know guys who think it is normal to head for the local whorehouse. That kind of unaware.

Last Laugh

++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Return Home
++++++++++++++++++++++++++