I was really proud of myself on Labour Day weekend, as I painted my bedroom, and it looks great.  The more projects I do, the more I improve with difficult implements such as screwdrivers and paint rollers.

There I was, removing switch plates, taping, painting and generally feeling like a tradesperson.  Unfortunately, I more closely resemble a bull in a China shop than an actual handyman.  I did things like whack my baby toe into the wall while moving too quickly, slamming my shins while climbing onto and off of the chair I used to reach high places, and so on.

But doing that must’ve improved the overall Feng Shui of the place, as things seem to be picking up a bit for the businesss.  Tin Horn Creek just placed a largish order for fruitcake, and Discover Wines re-ordered chocolate bark.  Even that did little to spur me on to start baking, though I forced myself to take inventory, and today I bought what I need to get started.

I haven’t heard boo from Choices Markets or Art Knapps, so am guessing they’re going to pass on my fruitcake.  What can one do?  The stores that now carry it every year are very glad they do, as by Thanksgiving people are asking for the fruitcake in the little white box.

I heard an interesting interview on CBC Radio the other day, something like How to Work with Millenials.  You know, our own brats.  I feel so sorry for business owners these days who have to hire these kids.  The interviewer was saying there’s a dearth of workers in the North, because the Millenials are like, “No thanks.”

And why should they do it, with mom and dad driving them to university, making their lunches, purchasing their clothes and dutifully returning the rejects?  Apparently, in order to get these zombies to work you have to entice them with incentives like free time, allow them to game on their phones, and insane stuff like that.

I would add that you have to ask them nicely, never chastise them, and then praise them soundly when the task is done, however poorly.  Hence it takes a human being with the patience of Job to hire and train these apathetic slobs.

It’ll be up to me to produce my fruitcakes this season, as I’m not hiring anyone, and am going to slug it out alone.  As upsetting as it’ll be, Nickly’ll have to help me label boxes, carry in product, and so forth.  But I think with the TV and radio as companions I should be able to copy with doing it on my own very nicely.

And God knows I have to start selling, as yesterday I went berserk and shopped in the mall prior to my hair appointment.  The bill for the hair itself is a nightmare amount due to the Herculean task before the hairdresser.  Hence my prayer: dear God, please let me remain true to my Type A Boomer self and not sink to the level of the lackadaisical Millenials.

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