#i had a customer crying because her order was cancelled by our system

[skylightdistraction]

-

[krinsbez]

Work Stories

So, I’ve theoretically accumulated quite a few stories in the past month, what with the two weeks of working extra hours and having no days off owing to one co-worker having surgery and others leaving or turning into flakes because most of the Counter Crew are high school students and it’s summer, while also being HELLA busy. While I have a cold. As a result, I’m not sure I could recite them, as the last month has kinda turned into a bit of a blur, honestly.

(Wish I’d had the energy to share ‘em while they were still fresh in m’mind, but oh well. No use crying over spilt milk)

I can, however, share some stories from yesterday morning.

-Well, actually, it starts the day before yesterday, when someone calls asking to place a catering delivery for about 20 people about an hour after the kitchen opens the next day (that is to say yesterday). I spend twenty minutes helping him decide what he wants, going over basically every 9x13 tray we offer multiple times. At one point I have to hand the phone over to my boss to explain somethings because the dude keeps insisting that he wants the food in a form we don’t do. Ultimately, he settles on six 9x13s of stuff that’s relatively easy to do (and yes, I ask multiple times if he’s sure that enough, noting that a 9x13 constitutes roughly four servings). The guy gives a crappy delivery tip, but whatevs, it’s small order, I’m not gonna fight with him over it, especially as it was late and I was working a double-shift, and I’ve already spent 20 minutes on this.

-The next morning, I walk in (note: I come in about an hour and a half before the store opens, which is fifteen minutes before the kitchen opens). It seems two online orders have been placed for the moment we open (our systems are...not the best, to say the least). This is, of course, impossible to accommodate, so I call both customers and explain that it’ll have to be 30 to 45 minutes later. One explains that they placed the order because the moment we open is the latest time they can pick-up their food before they have to be at work. I offer to refund her, she asks if she can instead have the time changed to when she finishes work. I say it can, but there’s a high chance it’ll come out early and be cold by the time she picks it up, she says that’s fine.

-The next person tries to argue with me, stating that that’s too late, they have to be back at work half an hour after the latest time I stated, I say we’ll do our best to have it ready by the earlier time, they say fine.

-Note that we also have a trainee in, who I’m supervising (side note: the current crop of new hires KICK. ASS. We now have employees who’ve been here for three days who know what they’re doing better than the guys who’ve been here for a year). And also are opening after a hella busy day the night before that cleaned out certain items. And the boss is coming in a bit late. So things are, as you might imagine, a bit hectic. Plus, of course, getting that catering order squared.

-So, here I am, trying to modify the two tickets that came in before we left with the new times, show the new kid around, do my morning set-up tasks all at once, and get that catering order going...when the guy who placed it calls. Despite him having decided that those six 9x13s were sufficient last night, he’s decided he wants more stuff. I say I need to call my boss. The customer insists that no, no, it’s just one or two things, it’ll be fine. Since I don’t want to bother my boss, want to get this over with, and have a spine like a wet noodle, I let him bully me in to ordering more food.

-Once again, I have to go over our whole catering menu with him. He says he wants to add an item we don’t sell 9x13s of, and also only have a limited quantity of. He says that’s fine, he doesn’t need a 9x13, just four orders. Which, as I had pointed out to him repeatedly last night, is what goes into a 9x13. And also, we haven’t got. Note that I have to explain this to him THREE. TIMES.

-By the time he’s done, he’s added SEVENTEEN items to the order (granted, that included seven individual servings of soup, and six individual orders of dessert). He declines to increase the tip when he pays.

-My boss arrives. He is, to say the least, unhappy about my taking this order, and spends ten minutes (rightfully) calling me out on it, plus gently ribbing me about it all morning. He tells me to call the customer back, and tell him the now much-larger order might need to be up to an hour late. I tell the customer. He declares that we have a whole hour to prepare his order, what’s the problem? He makes noises about canceling the add-on. My boss looks over the order, realizes we maybe can do it in the original timeframe, albeit with difficulty, tells me to tell the customer this. The customer is pleased, and concedes that tripling an order an hour before it’s supposed to go out is maybe a bit unreasonable.

-OK, so we’re hard at work. We’re gonna make it, we’ve got most of the big order out, we just got to do the last couple items, and then pack them up. We’d have been done with it, in fact, except that by now we’re open and customers are coming in to order, and have to be helped. A customer comes in, and slowly makes a rather large order. I tell him it will take quite a while, he’s eminently reasonable about it.

-I’m about to finish packing the catering order, we’ve started working on the big order, the second lady who I called about her initial order time being impossible rolls up with her husband, half an hour after she said was the latest she could come (and forty minutes after it was ready; they turn out to be older folks, which I suspect is one of the reasons for what follows.

-Now, I’ve discussed out lunch special before, not going to recap it again, but suffice to say they come with a particular side, and for a small price that side can be replaced with a different side. So naturally, the first thing the lady says is that she knows it wasn’t on the initial order, but can she make such a replacement? I sigh, and say sure. But, when I call up her order...not a lunch special. Full-size everything.

-She says, oh, sorry. Thought I ordered a lunch special, never mind. They check the bag. Her husband demands to know where the sides are. I explain that said side comes with the lunch special, which they didn’t get. But we’re supposed to get a side he insists. SHE explains that it only comes with a lunch special. He insists that they did, in fact, order a lunch special. I show them that they did not. He finally, reluctantly, concedes. I ask them to pay. He insists that he already did. I tell him that he did not, and show him this. He spends ten minutes arguing with me, ten minutes I do not have to spend, because of all the other stuff to do. I’m about to lose my temper...and one of my coworkers, who would prefer I be helping with other things steps in and takes over arguing. (please note, she’s being reasonable and trying to get him to be reasonable, but he’s not having it). I finally get him to pay by promising talking with our technical people, and promising to refund them if it turns out he paid double. As they walk out my co-worker says to me that man it was hard not to yell at the guy.

[alittledizzy]

new horizons kurt/blaine but also ft santana, mercedes, tina, artie, and rachel 

Various conversations about the planning of Britt’s Animal Crossing isolation birthday party. Written for @likearumchocolatesouffle!

[read on ao3]

“I don't understand," Kurt says, looking at the email invitation he's got pulled up in front of him. "What even is it?"

Santana snorts. "Ask your boy Blainers. I mean, he modeled his high school wardrobe after Blathers, didn't he? The names even sound the same"

"After <i>who</i>?" Kurt's confusion just grows. "Speak English, please."

"Fatherhood is really making you dull, Kurt." Santana sighs. "Animal Crossing. Video game. Party at Britt's Island. Saturday. Be there."

"But what does that-"

Santana hangs up.

*

"It's just a video game, Kurt." Blaine rubs the baby's back. She lets out a sleepy half cry. "It's for the Switch. Remember, the thing you bought me for Christmas last year?"

"Oh, right. One of our 'things to do while obsessively watching the baby sleep' presents." Kurt frowns. "But why is Britt having a party? What does that even mean?"

Blaine shrugs very, very gently. "Means she wants to celebrate her birthday with her friends, but the state of proverbial lockdown isolation we all finds yourself in right now leaves her options limited. I think it's sweet that Santana's helping her do this, actually."

Kurt looks down at the stack of Burberry burp cloths he's just finished folding. "Why can't she just have a Zoom party like a normal person? Do I have to buy a video game system for this?"

Blaine shrugs again. "I mean, you can just use mine, but you'd probably enjoy having your own more."

"Blaine, have I ever been a video game person?"

"I mean..." Blaine smirks like he's pulling out a secret weapon. "You <i>can</i> make your own clothes for it, you know. There's a whole clothing shop available and a design customizer..."

"... fine, alright, I'm buying one."  

*

"It's hilarious, Tina." Blaine laughs, slightly out of breath from his treadmill run. He's going slower now, already anticipating the post-workout shower he's going to have. "He's had it like four days and he's already mastered the art of time traveling so he can get the Able Sisters shop in time for Britt's birthday party. He says he can't possibly show up in something off the rack."

"I would say I don't believe it, but honestly, I believe it," Tina says. "He asked if he could come to my island three times yesterday."

"He's also turnip obsessed. Not just in the game. He added turnips to our farm to table produce box order. What on earth am I supposed to make with turnips?"

"I think they're good in stir fry?" Tina suggests. "I actually got the cutest little cat mask I'm going to wear. You know her island is Lord Tubbington themed, right?"

"Yeah, I was thinking of getting her a cat tower. Does she already have one?"

"She has seven, but she's putting them everywhere so I know she'll like one more. I have a litter box for her!" Tina laughs. "I love that a litter box counts as a good present."

"It's so weird," Blaine agrees. "Kurt wants to give her a lucky gold cat. He thinks my cat tower idea is tacky."

"Kurt things everything is tacky," Tina says. "Let him live his best live."

Blaine smiles fondly, slowing his cooldown until the treadmill comes to a stop. "Couldn't stop him if I tried."

*

"Tee! It's Artie! I guess you're busy doing something that involves you not being able to answer your dang phone, which for the record is sarcasm because none of us are doing literally anything right now. But whatever, I see how it is, girl. Screening me. I see how it is. Anyway I just wanted to let you know I got the gift you sent me in the game.  Now I can wheel up to Britt's bee-day bash in style. It's actually cool that this game even has wheelchairs. Anyway, later!"

*

"'cedes, my beautiful queen, how are you doing?" Artie asks.

"Uh, wondering what kind of crack all my high school friends are smoking that they're all suddenly on my ass to play some kind of video game."

"Look, I'll be real with you, I thought the same thing," Artie said. "And then I remembered that escapism is a tool of our generation and also the world outside is a flaming pile of poop right now so what do you have to lose?"

"Damn." Mercedes sighs. "You make some points."

*

"Kurt designed me the cutest dress," Rachel says. "Seriously? It's like, the most gorgeous thing you've ever seen. It's definitely what I would have worn to the Tony's if they hadn't been canceled."

"Yeah," Mercedes says, sounding distracted. "You know I just needed your Switch code, right? You could have just responded to the text."

"But that's no fun!" Rachel says, dismissal in her voice. "Besides, we need a good old fashioned diva catch up, don't we?"

"Not really."

"Don't be so grumpy!"

"I'm not- look, Rachel, I appreciate this, but I've got to get back to recording."

"I still can't believe you have your own home studio." Rachel sighs heavily.

"Yeah, well... believe it! See you at Britt's, bye!" Mercedes hangs up quickly.

Rachel sighs.

Jesse's having his mandatory hour of meditation, but she's never been able to get the hang of that.

She picks up her Switch and does a little lap around her island, responding with glee to a few of the residents she sees, the puts it back down.

She misses people. She misses people so, so much. Not any specific person. Just... people.

She reaches for her phone and calls a number already high up on her contacts. "Kurt!" She barely gives him time to respond before she says, "So, do you think we can find a matching handbag in time for the party..."

[katlyn1948]

I wrote something...its an original and I wrote it because I was feeling something. It’s sort of a personal experience, except really dramatized. I hope you like it, considering its an oringal...

“Rejection tends to leave one with a bitter taste in the mouth. The feeling that can cascade down to one’s soul that rejection leaves is almost depth defying. One’s worthiness comes to play; is it because you aren’t good enough, or simply passed for something better? It’s a heart wrenching feeling, especially when one already feels a bit empty inside. And the courage it takes, knowing that rejection is on the other side, takes days, months, maybe even years to gain.

Then when faced with the inevitable, one tends to chalk up their feelings and pretend that all is right in the world, when really they want to scream to the heavens above demanding a decent answer as to why they weren’t enough.

It’s a scenario that’s been played millions of times, across decades or centuries, even across countries and worlds. The same scenario that Anya found herself in right now.

It was a deafening blow to her already fragile confidence as she struggled to maintain the plastered smile on her crumbling face. The years it took for her to finally admit to the one person who she trusted most in this world, the one person she could tell anything to that she was irrevocably in love with them, only to have them not return the sentiments felt like a shockwave to the system.

The effort she put to set up the perfect environment, with them secluded on her New York roof top gazing upon the stars above as the soft illumination of twinkling lights danced upon his rugged features. An old time projection wheel she had borrowed from her drama teacher clicked behind them as they watched Hollywood movies of the forties and fifties, with a trail mix of popcorn, M&M’s, and salted pretzels situated between their bodies. One could call it a perfect date; just the two of them enjoying the things they loved together, but for Anya, it ended up in heartbreak and tears.

“I love you.” She blurted out after the projection wheel had finally run out of film.

“I love you, too.” Mikel chuckled, placing the bowl of mix on a near by end table she had brought up from her tiny apartment.

Anya could feel her pounding heart within in her chest, fearing that it would bound right though her rib cage and into his lap. She knew she would have to elaborate her meaning, for Mikel thought it was just a term of endearment; what any pair of best friends would say to each other. She hesitated before quickly placing her soft hands upon his rugged ones. It was a gesture they had done hundreds of times, as a way of comfort. But Anya wanted this time to feel like longing. She wanted him to understand her feelings for him. Taking a deep breath, she grasped his hands a little tighter and brought them to her lips, “No, Mikel. I love you.”

Sudden realization crossed Mikel’s face and Anya was unsure of what he was thinking. She knew that it could be a surprise, but she was sure of his feelings for her, and that’s what lead her to confess her love for him.

“Oh, Anya...I...” His sentence faded off his lips, not having the courage to continue.

Anya felt a sudden surge of fear as the silence between them lingered. She tired to open her mouth to speak, but she was unsure of what to say. Hundreds of thoughts swam through her head and slowly, the realization began to make way.

“You...you don’t feel the same way.” It wasn’t a question, but rather a revelation.

“Anya, you’re my best friend and I do love you...just not in the way I think you love me.” Several minutes has passed and Anya had yet to speak. She had released Mikel’s hands and scooted to the far end of their makeshift fort, trying to gain as much distance as she could from him.

“Anya, please say something.” He whispered softly. She could see him move closer to her and her head snapped to his eyes, a fake smile plastered on her face.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know what I was thinking. I think...I think I just got caught up in the moment, that’s all.” As the words escaped her lips, she could feel the twisting pang in her heart. It physically hurt her to say the things she was saying. None of it was true, for she was completely in love with the man before her, but she couldn’t lose him, not over a confession she could have kept to herself.

A nervous chuckle passed through his lips, “Right...for a second there, I thought you were serious.”

Anya let out a forced laugh, “No! Obviously not...I mean, I don’t want to do anything to jeopardize our friendship.”

“Exactly!” Mikel agreed, only breaking Anya’s heart into a million more pieces. “So...I guess I should be going. Gotta early morning.”

“That’s right! The interview is tomorrow.” Anya pulled herself up from the scattered pillows and began to walk Mikel to the roof’s entrance. “Tell me now it goes, yeah?

“You’ll be the first to know.” He smiled and quickly placed a soft kiss on her cheek. Anya’s body stiffened and it took everything in her not to break before he had a chance to click the door behind him.

“Good luck.” She said through a shaky breath.

“Thanks, I’ll need it.” And with that he was out the door and down the steps.

Anya locked the door behind him. She didn’t want to run the risk of him coming back and seeing her in a crying mess, because that’s what she was. She could no longer hold the tears from her eyes as they fell like waterfalls down her cheeks. A sob pushed it’s way through her throat as she fell to the floor, clutching her legs close to her. She hadn’t expected to feel this way. Her thoughts had lead her to believe that Mikel felt the same way.

The hints and clues he seemed to drop just for her felt like a dead giveaway.

He would take the time to learn subtle things about her that she hadn’t disclosed to him before. And even though they had known each other since they were elven, she was too reserved to let him in completely. It was a complete shock to her when he learned that her favorite artist was Monet, or that she was allergic to artichokes. Or even the way she liked to drink her tea during a snowy afternoon. These were things she had kept to herself that he had willing observed to find out.

The niceties of it all were too much to not be an indication of his feelings, but she was wrong.

Her tears had ceased, leaving nothing but drying streaks from where they had slipped down her face, when a buzz vibrated from her back pocket. It was Lyra, her sister, who was calling. No doubt to see how the events of the night had unfolded.

“Hello?” She answered.

“So...how did it go? Did he sweep you off your feet and kiss you until your lips became purple.”

Anya sighed, “Not exactly...he doesn’t feel the same way.”

“Oh, Anya...I’m so sorry.” She could hear the sincerity in her sister’s voice and it nearly broke her all over again. “Are you okay?”

Anya nodded into the phone, “Yeah, of course.” No, you’re not.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m fine.” Stop lying, your heart is broken

“Well, at least you and Mikel can still be friends. That hasn’t changed.”

“Yeah, of course! Nothing’s changed between us.” Everything has changed between us.

“I am glad you’re taking this with stride.”

“Me, too.” I’m a mess.

“Well, I just want to check up on you, and I’m proud of you for doing it, even if it didn’t go as planned. I’ll talk to you soon, okay.”

“Yeah, thanks for calling Lyra, I appreciate it.”

“Any time, sis. I love ya!”

Anya softly smiled, “I love you, too.”

She clicked her phone off and shoved it into her back pocket before striding to where the thrown pillows laid askew. She slumped down onto the them and laid back to stare up at the stars above, her mind slowly drifted into a dreamless slumber.

————

Mikel got the job, and as promised she was the first to know. She was truly happy for him and offered to by a round at their favorite bar in celebration.

Seven was their meet time and as usual, Anya arrived twenty minutes early to grab a pair of seats at the bar before anyone else had time to claim them. She ordered a water, not wanting to start the celebrations without him. Seven had rolled around, as per usual, Mikel was running late, never truly arriving until a solid ten minutes after their agreed time. But then seven thirty came and went and then eight and eight thirty.

Anya began to get nervous as she tapped her fingers upon the mahogany bar. She pulled her phone from her clutch and check if there were any missed calls or messages, but nothing of the sorts popped up. She quickly ran her fingers over the keyboard of her phone, typing out a message of ‘Where are u?” Before clicking if off.

“Sweetheart? Are you going to order anything beside water? If not, then I need you to leave, I have customers to attend.” The bartender asked her.

Anya sighed, “Can I get a Cosmo?”

“Coming right up.”

Anya check her phone again and there was still no response. She downed the cosmo the bartender left for her and paid the bill, slapping the cash on the bar in frustration. She gathered her things, and hurried out the bar, walking the three city blocks it took to get to her apartment. By the time she opened her front door and threw off her heels, the time of her phone read ‘9:17.’

Mikel had stood her up without so much as an explanation.

Anya nearly burst into tears from the frustration she was feeling, but the dinging from her phone pulled her mind elsewhere.

‘Sorry,’ it read. ‘Miller and the boys took me out. Rain check?’

‘Yeah, rain check.’ She quickly replied.

Anya groaned and threw her phone on her bedside table, wanting to take back everything.

——————

There wouldn’t be a rain check. Not really.

Mikel had all but excluded her from his life. They would make plans and then a few hours before they were to meet, he would cancel them.

She was sure he would make it to her exhibition, with her film project being front a center. He had know it was an important day, for hundreds of people would come and see her talent as a cinematographer. It was a project she had been working on for nearly two years, putting in a lot of time and effort to make it was it was. She’d given him the ticket three weeks before the events on the roof top and he said that he wouldn’t miss it for the world.

But as she searched through the crowd, she couldn’t spot his face.

That broke her heart more than his rejection, because he let her down. As her best friend, he let her down.

Anya called her sister that night, crying to her over the phone as she recounted the roof top night. She couldn’t lie to her sister, not anymore, and the blow of Mikel missing one of the biggest days in her life broke her.

——————

A month had passed since her exhibition and Mikel had yet to reach out to her. Anya was beginning to think the Mikel was just some figment of her imagination and never really existed, that is until a knock came from her apartment door.

She unlatched the lock before thinking and swung the door open, not expecting Mikel to be standing in front of her.

“Mikel, what are you doing here?” She asked a little surprised.

“I wanted to stop by. I feel like we haven’t seen each other.”

“Well, we haven’t.” She swung her door open a little further to allow him to enter.

“Yeah...I guess that’s my fault.” Anya clicked the door shut and followed him to the tiny kitchen table that was big enough just for the two of them.

“Why are you here, Mikel?” Anya asked, a little frustrated.

Mikel shrugged and then pulled a post card from his pocket. Anya picked up the crumbled paper and saw the familiar Golden Gate Bridge across the picture. “What’s this?”

“I’m moving...to San Francisco. My job relocated.”

“Oh...congrats.”

“Thanks...I wanted to tell you in person. Actually, you’re the first person I’ve told.” He said shyly.

“Wow...didn’t know that was still allowed that honor.” She scoffed.

Mikel crinkled his eyes in confusion, “What? Of course, you’re my best friend.”

“Really? Because a best friend wouldn’t forget the biggest opportunity I could have ever had. Or did you just not care?”

“Anya...what are you talking abou- oh, the exhibition! I completely forgot! I’ve been so busy with work that I spaced out.” He said truthfully.

Anya scoffed, “I called you ten times, Mikel! And each time it was sent to voicemail. I looked for you! And you weren’t there.”

“I’m not lying, Anya. I’ve been really busy-”

“And what about drinks after you got the job? We agreed to celebrate and then you flaked for ‘Miller and the boys’ while I sat at the bar like some idiot! Were you too buys then?”

“I...no. I avoided you. Look, I know you meant what you said on the rooftop. I know you like me, but I just don’t feel the same way, Anya. I didn’t want it to be awkward between us, so I flaked and I’m sorry. I thought that if I avoided you long enough, that you’d get over this silly crush and everything could go back to normal. I didn’t realize I was the one jeopardizing our friendship.” Mikel confessed, but the frustration in Anya only turned to anger and disappointment as he revealed his true feelings.

“Silly crush? You think that I’ve had a silly crush this whole time? Jesus, Mikel...I love you! I fucking love you with every bit of my being. You know how much courage it took me to tell you and then you rejected me! I mean...how could I not fall in love with you? You know everything about me, even things that I didn’t know myself. I thought you paying attention to those details meant that you felt the same way. We’ve been best friends for thirteen years, Mikel. You’re the person I want to be with.” She couldn’t help the tears fall from her eyes as she shed her armor to be completely vulnerable.

Mikel let out a long sigh, “Anya, I picked up on those things because you’re my best friend. You think it was impossible for me not to notice how you twisted your face every time you were in deep thought or tugged at your hair when you were frustrated? I noticed those things because we spent all of our time together, not because I was in love with you.”

Anya pursed her lips, “Wow. I think it’s time you leave.”

“What?” He asked dumbfounded.

“Please leave, Mikel. Maybe it’s a good thing you’re moving to San Francisco. You’re right, we’ve spent all of our time together, and maybe we need to learn how to live apart. But word of advice...when you finally come to your senses and realize that I was the one person you were meant to be with, it will be too late. I wish you the best, truly.” The tears had stopped spilling from here eyes, and all she felt was emptiness.

“Anya...please...let’s not leave it like this. I can’t go knowing you’re mad at me.” He tired to reach for her, but she pulled away.

“I’m not mad, Mikel. I am happy for you, truly. Let me know when you’ve safely made it to San Fran, okay?” She edged him out the door, leaving him with a perplexed expression.

———————

It has been nearly three years and Anya’s thoughts would often drift to Mikel and wonder how his life was treating him in San Francisco. She had still followed him on social media and saw he had meet someone and was engaged to be married. She was happy for him, and although it took her time, she found happiness herself.

It was evident as she rubbed her swollen stomach, wincing as the baby in her belly kicked her bladder.

She had gone on and made several successful documentaries, meeting her fiancé on one of her research trips. She was in the process of editing her current project when a knock on her front door pulled her from her work. She waddled toward her front door, shooing the barking dogs away. Anya grasped her brass doorknob and pulled the large oak door open. There standing on her front porch was a ghost from her past.

“Mikel?””

So...what y’all think?? Good or no? Ahhh okay

[getoutofthisplace]

Dear Gus,

I turned 38 years old today. I’ll post the detailed account I posted to Facebook of how I spent the day below, but I left out the part about how after talking to Nene, I kept standing out on the patio at Yiayia’s house. I watched you and Mom through the window. You sat in her lap, laughing at whatever she was doing. I’m so happy you and me and Mom all have each other. And that we have everyone else. I’m so happy you are happy.

Dad

North Little Rock, Arkansas. 1.8.2020 - 6.23pm.

PLAY BY PLAY:

I don’t know what time it is when I wake up. The room is still dark. I can just make out enough of the bedsheets to notice that Liz is already gone. She had to be at the hospital by 6:30am for work. I lift my phone off the bedside table. It’s nearly 7am. Gus calls for his mother from his crib, but he doesn’t complain when I open his door, turn off his space heater and his sound machine.

“I want Mama,” he says. His pacifier muffles his words.

“Mama’s at work,” I say, opening the wooden blinds.

“No, she’s not,” he says.

“Where is she?”

“She’s in there,” he says, pointing down the dimly lit hallway.

“Okay,” I say, picking him up. “Do you want some breakfast?”

“I need a fig bar and a banana and a vitamin,” he says. He says it every morning.

He tosses his pacifier into the kitchen sink while I peel him a whole banana, careful not to break it, and put it into the Ziploc bowl with a leftover fig bar. His teeth marks are left from a bite he took yesterday. I add the gummy purple vitamin and hand him the bowl. We walk into the living room and I use the remote to turn the television on.

“I want to watch Dino the Dinosaur,” he says. The show features Dino and his friend Dina, dinosaurs of the triceratops variety, who learn about colors or numbers or shapes in every super-short episode. Neither character talks, but a woman with a soothing voice narrates everything. He loves it. Liz and I can’t stand to watch the show, but it’s better than when he got hooked on Trolls, which has no educational value. Or any redeeming qualities whatsoever.

As I leave the room, Gus erupts into a scream. I know immediately that he has noticed I’ve given him yesterday’s fig bar. He cries and says something unintelligible about it.

“Do you want a new fig bar?”

He says something else unintelligible about it.

“Do you want a blueberry or a raspberry fig bar?” I ask.

He stops crying and says he wants raspberry.

I put the new fig bar in his bowl and take out the fig bar with the missing bite. I start to throw it in my mouth, but remember I haven’t weighed yet. I record my weight every day into a Google spreadsheet I share with my cousin John. We have compared weights for years, but got serious about it in 2018 when we began recording our weights every day in the document, the title of which is “Fat Boys.”

When my grandfather was alive, he must’ve thought his grandsons were all a bunch of lanky, weak kids because he offered $100 to the first of us who could get to 180 pounds. He wanted a grandson that could help him contend with livestock. Zachary earned the money, but now that our grandfather’s gone, we’re all on the other side of 180, trying to get back.

I step onto the scale. It reads 187.8. Down a pound from yesterday. A win. I pop the half-eaten fig bar in my mouth and walk to the back bathroom to take a shower.

I see Gus’s blurry shape through the frosted glass of the shower. I stand on my tiptoes to look at him from over the door.

“I need my milk,” he tells me. We call it milk, but it’s really rice milk. He’s allergic to dairy, so we’ve cycled through all the milk alternatives for the last couple of years. His doctors thought he might also be allergic to soy, so we gave up on soy milk, then we discovered he probably had a tree nut allergy, so we quit almond milk. He wouldn’t drink oat milk, so here we are. For now. Our gastroenterology specialist has asked us to bring in another stool sample for testing. He scolded Liz this week for rescheduling Gus’s scope recently, even though his staff told us to reschedule because of a cold. It was an unnecessary risk, they said. The abnormal results from the lab tests weren’t that big of a deal, the doctor himself said. But when Liz sat in front of him this week, he felt differently. He felt we weren’t taking Gus’s health seriously. He threatened to not reschedule if we were just going to cancel. When she recounted the conversation with me over the phone, I could feel my blood boil. There was a time when I believed in the authority of doctors and could stand to be talked down to within reason, but that time is no longer. Now I need them to recognize the importance of customer service. My instinct was to drive to Children’s Hospital and kick his office door down, but instead I told Liz to write down everything that he told her and the tone in which he said it because as soon as we no longer need him to tell us what is wrong with our boy’s digestive system, I will make sure everyone within earshot understands what an arrogant prick he is. (Stay tuned.)

“Did you poop?” I ask Gus.

“No, I didn’t poop,” he says.

“I think you pooped,” I say, hoisting him onto the changing table. I am late and don’t really have time to take the stool sample now, but I want to get it as quickly as possibly so we can get back the lab results.

I strip his pajamas off him and check his diaper. He wasn’t lying. There is no poop.

“Where are we going today?” Gus asks me.

“I’m going to work and you’re going to school.”

“Oh no, school’s closed today, Daddy.”

I glare at him, but he’s committed to the lie—he doesn’t smirk.

At work, my coworkers have hung a couple of “HAPPY BIRTHDAY” banners in my office, which I share with Derek, though he isn’t in yet. They hand me the birthday sombrero to wear and we stand around the small conference room singing happy birthday. My brother-in-law has sent two breakfast casseroles and a large mixing bowl full of fresh fruit. We eat and catch up. We are a closely knit team, but it feels like we haven’t talked as a group since before Christmas, with everyone coming and going. A child has started at daycare. A spouse has gotten a dog. I express my growing anger toward the doctor. A 9:30 meeting breaks up our reunion and we all go back to work.

Derek and I debate where to go to lunch. I pull out my Excel sheet and begin reading off the names of local restaurants. We discuss a future study in which we spend each week only eating one dish, comparing one restaurant to another. We will find the city’s best ramen, the best pizza, the best cobb salad. But for now, we just need lunch. It’s already after noon. We go to Senor Tequila because it’s closer than anywhere else. We each get the special of the day: Bean burrito, cheese enchilada, Mexican rice for $6. We’re both amazed at how cheap that is. Derek quickly does some math on how much money he would save for the rest of his life if he only ate a $6 lunch. The figure is relatively astronomical. But then he surprises me by buying me lunch for my birthday, which would throw his number off, probably.

This morning, Liz tasked me with deciding what I’d like to do for my birthday dinner. She is unsatisfied when I tell her I don’t know. She tells me we can go somewhere, or she can make me something, or her mother has offered to order take-out at her house. I tell Liz I will decide later and text her before she gets off work at 3pm.

As that hour approaches, I am overwhelmed with the mountain of work I am facing at the office. I need the mental boost that comes with being able to scratch anything off my to-do list. Something easy, something quick. I text Liz that I want to go to her mother’s house and eat what we refer to as Korean tacos—chopped salmon and rice wrapped in seaweed. Accomplishing that simple task and being decisive gives me confidence to also ask her to make me a cherry pie, though I tell her it doesn’t have to be today. Just soon.

When she gets off work, she calls to say she’ll make the pie tonight if I’ll go get Gus from daycare.

In my truck I’m listening to Dani Shapiro read her memoir, HOURGLASS. I’ve mostly read fiction lately and Shapiro has reminded me how much I love memoir done right. So right that I feel like I’ve known her, personally, for a long time. Like we have a history that would warrant me picking up my phone and texting her to say, “I’m finally getting around to reading your book, old friend, and it is beautiful.” I wonder if my mother would like the book. I think she would.

I race across town to get to Gus’s daycare in Hillcrest before 5:30pm, but when I get there, I have time to spare. There are only five minutes left in my book, so I turn my truck’s engine off and watch the other parents wrangle their children into their respective cars while I listen to the very end—“This audiobook has been a production…”

I meet eyes with a mother I don’t recognize coming out of the school, and I realize just how creepy I may look, sitting there outside a daycare in my nondescript pick-up truck, no sense of urgency to get out and retrieve my child.

“Daddy!” Gus says, running into my arms when I finally go in and stand in the doorway where he and his friend Luna are the last two children.

“Does someone at your house have a birthday today?” Ms. Cathy asks Gus. “It’s Daddy’s birthday!” Gus says. And I feel incredibly loved by my son. He doesn’t have to love me, I think, but he does.

On the way home, I explain to Gus how the red lights and the green lights dictate when we stop and when we go. He is fascinated. He applies the rule to all the lights he sees.

“What is that yellow light?” he asks.

“That’s a controversial subject, son.” I say. “Some people think it means slow down, but I’m in the camp that just thinks it means it’s time to commit.”

“Oooohhhh…” he says. “I don’t want to go home.”

“Where do you want to go?”

“I want to go see diggers,” he says. We are in a construction equipment phase.

“We’ll have to keep an eye out for some on the way to Yiayia & Papou’s.”

“Are we going to Yiayia & Papou’s?”

“Yiayia & Papou, we’re coming for you…” I say. It’s a game we’ve played for probably a year. I say the names of the people whose house we are going to and he will say what it is he wants from them.

“We’re coming for you and your toys and your Paw Patrol,” he responds.

When we get there, he runs into the living room for the toys and the Paw Patrol, which are also toys.

“Happy birthday,” Zill says.

Athena hugs me. Liz kisses me. I can tell she is eager for me to see that she is making my cherry pie.

“I didn’t have time to make Nana’s crust, but look at those cherries,” she says.

They are the red of earthy roses, a color not found from a can of cherry pie filling.

Athena pulls two beers from the refrigerator. “They’re both Birthday Bomb! beers, but one is aged in a whiskey barrel!” she tells me.

Liz and I are on a diet that only allows us to drink once a week and this week has already been spoken for.

“It’s a special occasion,” she says. “You should drink them.”

Athena pulls a frozen mug from the freezer and I pour the stout into the glass. I sit with Zill in the living room. We toast that our country has somehow managed to not initiate World War III yet. Athena brings in a plate of large, chilled shrimp, which grabs Gus’s attention.

“What are those things?” he asks.

“Those are shrimp,” I say. “You love shrimp.”

“I need to have them,” he says.

I hold one by the tail as he eagerly bites into it. He wants to take another bite before he finishes the first. He’s ready to move on to the next shrimp entirely, but I regain his attention and show him the meat that is still in the tail. He devours one shrimp after the other. So much so that I look around to see if anyone else thinks I should stop him. Liz is happy he’s eating protein and not carbs, so I let him continue.

My mother calls me and I step out onto the back patio. She wishes me a happy birthday and we talk about my day. We talk about the extended family getting together Sunday maybe to celebrate everyone who has a birthday in January—me, my sister, my grandmother, my aunt and uncle and oldest niece, Caroline, who came within hours of being a February birthday that night in 2008 when we all waited so long in the waiting room at the hospital in Memphis.

“Stop by so we can give you your birthday gift,” my sister texts me. They live less than a mile from us.

By the time Liz gets Gus bathed and I insist on waiting around to see the Final Jeopardy question, which I initially answered partially correct, but then second-guess myself enough to ultimately miss entirely, our family is tired. I drive Liz and Gus home so she can put him to bed, then I double back.

I look through the window and see Laura and Chris sitting in their living room, which is halfway through a remodel and in a state of disarray. I walk in without knocking. The lights are mostly out, but there is a lamp over the new keyboard my mother got her granddaughters for Christmas this year.

“Where’s Liz?” they ask. They prefer their aunt to their uncle.

“She had to go put Gus down,” I say, noticing the paper taped to two chairs facing the keyboard. On each paper is our names—“Guy” and “Liz”—our assigned seats.

Caroline casually walks out of the hallway onto the makeshift staging area in front of me. She holds a cardboard beard to her face and delivers lines she has written and rehearsed, but that don’t quite steer a clear narrative. Her younger sister emerges from the hallway with a similar prop and a less confident set of lines. They ramp up the drama by throwing their cardboard disguises away quickly and each donning a man’s necktie with the tags still on. They go back into the hallway and return with a gift bag for me. Inside, I find a vintage tie rack on which I will be able to hang the ties they have gotten me.

When things settle down, Cate sits at the keyboard. “I tried to learn ‘Happy Birthday,’ but I couldn’t,” she says to me, before playing the first notes of another simple tune from the songbook in front of her. We all clap when she finishes. I hug both my nieces and their parents.

“Did you ever take piano lessons, Gunkel?” Cate asks me.

“I did, but not for very long,” I say. “I could never coordinate my left hand while I was also using my right.”

Like I always do when I am in front of piano keys, I play the recognizable right hand to the melody of Beethoven’s Fur Elise.

“Can you teach me how to read those notes?” I ask Cate, nodding toward her songbook.

She shows me which notes correspond and together we try to play something. I enjoy the time with her, and I enjoy reading the music, even if it’s in such a simplistic form.

Again, I thank them for my gifts, then say goodbye. As I back out of their driveway, I notice a text from the woman who was married to my father when he died. They were married for nearly two decades. She has already wished me a happy birthday and so before I open it, I think hard about what information she might have to give me, but come up with nothing.

“Abbey passed tonight,” her text reads.

My father’s dog. A Jack Russell terrier he got when I lived with them. She was nuts, but also cute and loyal and absolutely fearless. Every time Dad introduced her to someone, he would say, “She’d fight a bear,” and he would tell of the time she came wandering home after fighting a wild animal, her insides dragging behind her.

Now, when I think of Abbey, I think of my father in his hospital bed at home in White County, depressed and ready to die, and in the corner, guarding the window, there is Abbey, standing guard for him, happy to wait as long as she needs to. I will always love her for the happiness she gave him.

When I get home, the lights are out. Liz and Gus are asleep. Suki and I walk to the backyard and I throw the tennis ball for her over and over until she no longer brings it back. I wash my hands and see our family cookbook on the counter. It lies open to the page listing my Nana’s pie crust recipe. I imagine Liz pulling the cookbook out this afternoon. And I feel incredibly loved by my wife. She doesn’t have to love me, but she does.

This is my wonderful life at 38 years old: cherry pies, tie racks, and memories of my father and his dog.

[nocturnalsleuth]

dream under cut

No one really talked about his mother.

'How sad,' today's Supermarket paper had read 'that this young man's mother killed herself.'

He hadn't cried once since her death. This tipped the building scales inside of him, but still he didn't cry.

He walked down to the Supermarket and bought 200 pounds of bananas.

The cashier's face might have made him laugh, if he wasn't so angry.

He stood outside the exit and gave them away to anyone who asked him for one. He it answered one person who asked why he'd done it.

'I will buy 200 pounds of bananas and give them away from this store every day until they dare speak the truth they don't want to look in the face.' A paper from the newsstand read.

None of the Supermarket papers acknowledged this.

It only lasted four days.

The newsstand paper's article was posted online and had gone viral. People sympathized after connecting the 'banana man' with the recently deceased mother.

On the second day hundreds of people placed online orders for 200 pounds of bananas. The Supermarket fulfilled what they could, but had to go through the system and manually cancel every order. They turned off online ordering for the time being. Complaints came rolling in from regular users of the system.

The phone went off all day.

The third day there was a sign in the fruit section.

'One bunch of bananas per customer.'

There was a burly staff member lurking in the area.

Everyone took only one bunch.

If the fruit supervisor looked a little closer he might have noticed the same man visiting multiple times, in slightly different outfits. Maybe faceblindness was a factor. The man in slightly different outfits would buy a bunch of bananas, leave it by the exit, and someone would hand him something to change into before walking in again.

The phone went off all day.

On the fourth day, the supervisor was gone. Customers milled throughout the store as usual. Cashier's rang up orders. But everything was silent, as if waiting for something.

A young man walked in, several reusable bags in hand, walking towards the fruit section.

The building held it's breath.

A Supermarket newspaper caught his eye.

'We must correct an error from several days ago. Our journalist referred to this woman as having killed herself.

This was something our community all knew to be false. She was murdered in cold blood by people she trusted.

We regret covering this story because no one else would, and misrepresenting the facts. We are sorry to journalists everywhere for straying from integrity. We are sorry to our customers for the upset to our systems our actions have caused.

We are deeply sorry to the woman's only son, who she is survived by.'

Passerbys clapped him on the back, but he barely felt them.

After several days of an anger so deep he burned, it peeled away to a grief burning just as bright.

His knees gave out, and he clutched his bags tight as he sobbed.

[midnight-herald]

my GI Bullshit is acting up today because i’ve been rlly stupid stressed for like at minimum a week but honestly closer to a month and a half if i change the threshold to match a healthier definition of rlly stupid stressed 

So yeah uh my white blood cells are attacking my intestines again which means low energy, terrible poops, etc and also my pup is in the animal hospital because she had terrible diarrhea and vomiting last night and got dangerously dehydrated and i’m fucking furious at the people who had her for the first few months of her life because even though she was lying in her own sick and scared and uncomfortable and probably in distress and pain she didn’t make a fuss, or at least didn’t fuss enough to wake us up and she had to have learned that somewhere... 

Sorry i’m just like really depressed and overwhelmed and i’m finally making it to Youth Symphony again tomorrow night which will feel good but i’ve missed so many rehearsals because of my stupid fucking job and the stupid fucking time-off request system deleting my preferences several times 

I’m really excited to quit this job and train as an electrician which is the current plan but i’m caught up in a spiral of not wanting to fail the test so not going down to the local branch of the NETC to put in an application becuase i haven’t finished my tech-math course online yet and i’m not being smart and jumping into the chapters i remember poorly to feel prepared again and it’s just kinda shitty

But yeah work is becoming really dehumanizing lately. The way that the systems around tool rental centers are set up means that Corporate can send us a bunch of tools we didn’t ask for and don’t have room for, which is already shitty because there’s no way for us to veto or cancel the orders but then the real fucking amazing kicker is that the tools they send us come out of our personal operations budget. They fucking buy an entire new chainsaw-on-a-stick while our current one works just fucking fine and then turn around and yell at us for over-spending. 

Corporate also mandated a ‘reset’ of our TRC that meant that everything is in newer shittier places and while the TRC is much more visually appealing to customers it’s lost like half of its functionality. It’s starting to get to the point where getting to work is anxiety-inducing enough that i’m vaguely visualizing self-harm situations that could get me out of going there. And i honestly just wanna sleep for a week straight, cry for a week straight and run into the mountains for three months because everything is moving so fast and being so overwhelming and i cant process half of it/the half of it that i can process is Really Fucking Depressing and it’s just a lot more than I can handle right now...

[fuck-customers]

The Only Time I Cried At work

So this is a throwback to Christmas-time, but whatever. Had to get it off my chest since it still ticks me off on occasion.

I pretty much worked in restocking, getting shit off delivery trucks, filling online orders, and in store pick up orders at my job. And for only being a seasonal employee, I was actually pretty good. Usually, I was left alone to do my own thing since apparently I was one of the few competent seasonal employees they hired. Occasionally there was an issue issue up front and they needed me to hunt something down for them. Or I got reassigned to wherever since they scheduled too many people. I didn't really care; I was seasonal. I was going to be let go of anyway. 

Well, it was a week and a few days after Black Friday and I was packaging some shipments in back. I get a call asking specifically for someone from my department to come to the front to talk to a customer/locate an order. No big deal, usually it's because someone didn't process it properly and they just need someone from the department to dig through the section. I tell my co-workers; one newer then me guy, and a women whose my boss in the department that I'm taking this.

So I get the front and it's one of those typical looking soccer moms. You know the ones. Instead of engaging her, I ask my co-worker what the order number is (I'm numerically dyslexic so I need it written down anyway), and what I'm looking for. Turns out she's one of the people who did an online order for Black Friday to get the best deal on 10 fucken overpriced usually, blankets.

Now our company policy is that if you don't pick it up within a week of ordering it for in store pick up, it'll get cancelled out of the system and your money refunded. Sometimes the system doesn't match up with the emails, so the order might have been cancelled out without alerting the customer. The customer perks up at me talking about this, and says she JUST got the email reminding her to pick up her order.

I immediate get suspicious since Black Friday orders were suppose to get cancelled out a few days before this. But, whatever, not my problem, I go in back and look.

No dice, can't see this big ass order of blankets. I tell them I'm going to look in the back since some larger orders can't be stored up front. After looking literally everywhere, I still can't find it. 

I slightly am starting to freak out, because my bosses told me the order is still in the system and no one's touched the orders from Black Friday aside from the head of my department who isn't on shift currently. I didn't fulfull the order, and no one else on shift did either. So I run to stockroom and scan the same item, different color to see if we even still had the same product in stock. Apparently it was a super deal so of course the answer is; no.

I sneak in the back and check again for this order; nothing. The woman is clearly agitated and bothering other customers with her annoance. And while I might not have cared about my job, I hate disappointing people. So I calmly explain that I have been unable to locate her order, or find the same product for a price match, and that I'm sorry.

One thing I should add here; I'm not an intimidating worker. I'm all of 5'4, and while I was 21 at the time, I looked all of barely 18. My clothes weren't exactly stylish so I looked a little awkward while working. My body language, aside from when I walk, is pretty concave and non-combative. I tend to keep to myself so most of my co-workers figured I was a shy introvert, which is why I usually worked in the back where I didn't have to deal with people in general. And. this. bitch. LAUNCHES INTO ME. She's screaming that she drove 45 minutes to come to our store, and that how dare I lose her order. Her father is dying at hospice, and she's on edge about these blankets for Christmas, she's having a nervous breakdown, (which how fucken dare she say that, I've talked people out of those, I've actually experienced that shit, you were not bitch.). And I kinda just let her finish 'cause I didn't know what to do.

I for once, didn't cry in front of her, which is my typical response usually to getting yelled at. EVERYONE IN THE STORE, is looking at me, my tiny-ass awkward looking self, and this semi-crazy soccer mom. And I mean everyone since several other staff came from their positions to the front to help out. My co-worker, bless her soul to this day, swooped in and said she'd get a manager. I told the customer I was sorry and that I couldn't help her and immiadtely power-walked to the back of the building to the bathroom to cry. 

It took me a solid 10 minutes to actually stop blubbering and finish the last half hour of my shift. 

My co-workers then called the back again to talk to me, and I lost it. I wasn't talking to them I just wanted to go home, so my boss took the call as new-guy talked me down from my tears. I managed to finish packaging and told them I was going to the bathroom the last five minutes of my shift. My manager ended up hugged me after work and told me I didn't have to answer calls from customer service anymore.

I still can't get over that this woman's father was supposedly dying at hospice and she was worried about stupid cheaply made bargain bin blankets. And to top it off; someone from customer service had moved them without rescanning them. They had been up front all along. The bitch got what she wanted.

Additionally, the next day a customer who I think had seen the whole thing go down yesterday, came up to me and thanked me for all my hard work that season. That made my day.

TL;DR Customer is more worried about material possessions she hasn't even paid for, then her dying father, launches into underaged looking employee for 'keeping her from her father'. I hope your blanket fell apart already.

[bigyack-com]

For Small Businesses, Paycheck Protection Program Means Hard Choices

When Joseph Levey logged in to Chase Bank’s lending portal early Tuesday, he hoped he would finally be able to submit his law firm’s application for a federal stimulus loan. He had been trying since the previous Friday.“One of the C.P.A.s I work with was just heading home at 6 a.m.,” said Mr. Levey, founding partner of the Manhattan firm Helbraun Levey. “Chase’s application portal didn’t open until Monday night, and it kept crashing.”Like Mr. Levey, small-business owners around the country are racing to secure their portion of the Paycheck Protection Program, a $349 billion relief program that Congress authorized to help them survive the pandemic and keep their employees on the payroll.Because the loans are first come first served, many business owners are panicked that the money will run out before their applications are approved. They are also trying to figure out exactly what the program does, and whether the terms make sense or if they should lay off their workers despite already skyrocketing unemployment claims.Mr. Levey successfully submitted his application. But he still had hundreds more applications to file — with Chase alone — on behalf of his clients, many of whom are in the hospitality and cannabis industries.Treasury Secretary Steven Mnuchin said on Tuesday that he had asked lawmakers for an additional $250 billion for the payroll program, but it was up to Congress to allocate any additional funding.The loans, which are a part of the $2 trillion relief program Congress enacted last month, could be a lifeline for Tran Wills and the 43 employees of Base Coat, her chain of nail salons in Colorado and California.The program is designed to help businesses with fewer than 500 employees by lending them up to two months of payroll costs, with each loan capped at $10 million. Self-employed and contract workers are also eligible, but their loan process didn’t start until Friday.These relief loans are issued through Small Business Administration-approved lenders and, unlike loans in previous crises, don’t require any personal guarantee or collateral from borrowers. The money is intended to primarily cover payroll, but funds can be used for other expenses that are legal as long as the loan is repaid at an interest rate of 1 percent over two years.However, the federal government will forgive the loans if a business uses at least 75 percent of the funds to maintain its payroll at pre-pandemic levels for eight weeks after the loan is disbursed (based on a 40-hour workweek). The remaining money can be used only to pay for certain expenses, such as a mortgage, rent and utilities.In most cases, the S.B.A. is using payrolls as of Feb. 15 as its definition of pre-pandemic levels.The fact that the loan is essentially a grant is a key reason Ms. Wills has worked so hard to get in line. She tried to apply at Chase and U.S. Bank before successfully submitting her application at Sunflower Bank, a small community lender based in Denver.Ms. Wills decided not to lay off her staff even though the salon is closed, because she had heard the grant would require her to maintain full staffing without interruption. Her staff is working from home with reduced hours and wages, helping her teach classes and fulfill online orders for Base Coat’s nail polish line. Some employees have also filed for unemployment benefits to make up the difference.If Ms. Wills had laid off her team, she would still be eligible for the grant once she brought the team back — but that fact was initially unclear. The Treasury Department recently clarified that businesses must rehire staff (or employ new workers) and return their payrolls to February levels by June 30, when the loan program is set to expire.She thinks keeping her employees was the right move because many of them have been with her since she opened in 2013 and because she believes there will be high demand once she reopens.“We’re going to be crying at the end of the day because we’ll be so busy,” Ms. Wills said.However, if the loan doesn’t come through or businesses aren’t able to reopen in May, the story changes. Ms. Wills said she wouldn’t have the money to keep paying anyone, even after canceling her utilities and negotiating rent deals.“I’m OK until mid-May,” Ms. Wills said. “But after that, nobody is going to have money to buy things online to keep us alive.”

‘This grant will become a loan.’

Some economists are warning that program loans in the stimulus package, known as the CARES Act, may not be a great fit for all businesses — even if they can get them.“A lot of businesses know their revenue isn’t going back to February levels by the beginning of May, so they might be better off using other provisions of the CARES Act, like the expanded unemployment benefits,” said Betsey Stevenson, professor of economics and public policy at the University of Michigan and former chief economist for the Department of Labor.That’s the decision that Ivy Mix and her business partners made for their staff at the Brooklyn bar Leyenda. Instead of taking out a payroll program loan, they closed in mid-March and laid off 24 people until they learned more.The owners made their decision after realizing that the funds would most likely have to be spent before they could reopen. If they received the money in late April, they would be paying employees to stay at home rather than having the cash when they knew they could be open.“We don’t know what’s going to be happening, and we almost certainly won’t be running at 100 percent capacity when we do, whether that’s because of legal restrictions or people’s fear,” Ms. Mix said. “So this grant will become a loan.”And a loan scares Ms. Mix. In its nearly five years, the bar has operated without debt, and she doesn’t want to take any on now.“We’d rather tell our employees to file for unemployment benefits,” she said. “We have a better chance of staying in business if we reopen and hire them back then.”That’s a common refrain from Mr. Levey’s clients. Businesses, he said, don’t want to take a payroll loan and hire workers back, then have to fire them again in eight weeks because restaurants aren’t open.“The program makes a lot of sense for law firms, accounting firms, any of the professional firms where people can still do work from home,” Mr. Levey said. “P.P.P. loans for people who are not doing business right now don’t work unless the applicant is of the mind-set that they are trying not to lose their key people.”

Workers are doing the math.

Some workers prefer to be laid off than have their employers keep them on through the program. The stimulus package expanded unemployment benefits widely, allowing people who need to stay home to care for sick loved ones or for children. It also added a $600 subsidy to each weekly check for up to four months.In a state like Michigan, where the maximum weekly unemployment benefit is normally $362, some workers can now receive up to $962 per week. Once they have applied and their eligibility and state award amount are determined, the $600 is added to their checks. Workers haven’t seen that cash yet, but it will be retroactive for people who began filing March 29.Even with delays and the potential that they will be job hunting in a few months, the extra cash is attractive to some employees.“I’ve had a lot of clients over the last week say there is no way I’m going to get these people to come back to work,” Mr. Levey said.And that puts business owners in a conundrum. Do they take paycheck protection knowing that their employees might be better off on unemployment? What do essential businesses do if a worker doesn’t want to go in?That’s the challenge facing Liz Blondy, the owner of Canine to Five, a dog day care in Detroit.When Michigan’s stay-at-home order was announced, Ms. Blondy laid off 70 of her 90 workers and saw her business drop by 95 percent. She kept on six salaried managers and three hourly employees to help care for the pets of essential workers. She didn’t know yet that the program would be an option or what the terms were. Now, she is trying to apply and considering bringing her team back.But some of the workers have said they’d rather stay on unemployment or be laid off.“If you don’t feel comfortable leaving your house in a pandemic, I am not going to push you. That’s not fair,” Ms. Blondy said. “But I might not have work for you in the future.”She said she wished the unemployment system were clearer about how to handle situations like these. Can employees refuse work? Does she have to challenge their unemployment claim — something she doesn’t want to do? Can it be considered fraud if she doesn’t?A spokeswoman for the Department of Labor said Wednesday that states could interpret their own laws and that employers weren’t responsible for challenging unemployment claims. But in general, “individuals that quit without good cause or refuse suitable offers of employment are not eligible for benefits.”Ms. Blondy still intends to apply when her lender, Comerica Bank, finally opens its portal. By Thursday night, Comerica still hadn’t given business customers access to applications.“I am going to be paralyzed by indecision for the next week as I figure this out,” Ms. Blondy said. “But it’s relatively inexpensive money, and it will help me through this time even if it’s not forgivable in the end.”

How Business Owners Can Cope

File Paycheck Protection Program applications at off hours, when sites are less likely to be inundated.Remember that the program may be better suited for firms whose workers earn higher wages or those who can work from home.The program may not be well suited for businesses, like bars and restaurants, that don’t know they will be able to return to operations. Read the full article