Three Door Cooler- Chapter 3 The Helper

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The Helper

“That’s it” will be her effigy on her tombstone. Her catchphrase that pretty much sums up everything. Like the ones who say “you know”. Here was a lady in her late 50s early 60s, wrinkled and leathery skin with deep set dark, puffy eyes. We employed her under the advisement of Tanya, already making an enemy in the first few days, we didn’t want to be assholes or anything and fire her we kept her employed. To her we were “City Slickers” with lots of money, we were the opposite, we paid her a little more than what she was making with Tanya. She said she didn’t really needed the job, loved to come in and visit with the customers, one day she would want the store, only if she had the money she said. As for the customers, most of them knew her, which was helpful. She would say “buy from them, these are good people” meaning us. Us being outsiders in rural Mississippi, you have to do a lot to fit in with the tight knit community. We adored her.
She was also a smoker. Having a raspy smoker’s voice, she didn’t say too much. Only “that’s it” in agreeance with whatever conversation we had. Maybe she was embarrassed if she didn’t know much, but to us at the time she seemed honest and a family person. She had a cousin who came from the South who visited her and also needed a job too. Her cousin was more on our level, conversation wise. She seemed to be intelligent as well as a diligent worker. The two were joined at the hip. Her cousin was staying with her because of personal problems at home. When together they seemed to be a happy bunch. Her cousin was the jovial kind, happy go lucky. She seemed somewhat submissive to anything we told her. She did without question. She was younger, frizzy auburn hair, petite figure and wore glasses. She smoked too, not having the voice yet. I think she even tried to hide that she smoked, knowing we didn’t. Trying to please and too much. You know the type.

These two were so helpful in getting us started. I would go to get stuff for the store, the helper knew about who to order from and what to order. This was really wonderful because neither of us K or I never ran a store before. Really it’s not much different from a catering job, it’s knowing what to get and how much. The helper was a lifesaver when it came to us doing business in New Orleans. I employed her and her cousin; dividing the day, splitting up the 13 hours the store stayed open.

There was a time that we needed a place close to the store. Commuting was out question since New Orleans was almost a 1 1/2 hour drive. We found an apartment near the store. We actually found it again advertised on line and the place happened to be across from the store. We had the place for a month it seemed, but couldn't move in because of the ice storms that occurred in the previous weeks and plumbing needed to be replaced due to frozen and cracked pipes. We finally had enough of living at nearby relative’s home and said we need to get in our space. We didn’t have a bed, not even sleeping bags nor air mattress. So we went and bought a bed that evening an hour away from the store. Having a total brainfart, I realized we haven’t gotten in the apartment to clean it because of the plumbing issue. We would walk into a dirty night’s stay. The ladies heard me tell this to K on the phone and said, they would clean it after they closed the store. I said, no, that’s ok, but they insisted. We came back with a brand new mattress to our bed frame and a spotless home. They cleaned the place from top to bottom and thoroughly too. I was so impressed in the work they have done that I thought both of them were Godsends. I can’t remember how I paid them for this, whether it was in food, gifts or money. To me, this was more than an act of kindness. I felt completely blessed to be surrounded with good people, things began to look up.

We had both of them working, like I’ve said in the previous, helping split the days. It was understood that both kept their own hours. I was away for a good bit back home, while K was there more often. I wasn’t there much, but when the checks had to be signed, I was around, especially there to meet up with new vendors. So, that time that I ran out of gas, it seems that I ran out of gas again, only a little too soon.
We had one of those ancient pumps that would read only once the lever was pulled and the operator inside the store could turn it on. Every time the lever was pulled it would start over and zero out. In other words, if you bought $10 in gas. We told you to stop at $10. No auto stop, like I said, antique equipment. Most knew this and being new, we did not. So, we were taken advantage of and a lot. It didn’t go to $10. They got more like $20 instead. The customer would restart it by pulling the lever and go back $10. That’s how you get $20 out of $10 for gas. I was told later to detect the level being “zeroed out”, you would see a dim flick on the light bulb for the gas as an indicator. Being ripped off, this rarely happened once we got wind how customers would take advantage. But, once we filled our gas again only to run out a week estimated too early, something smells again.

This time it was Memorial Day weekend. I was expecting a large crowd since we were literally on the river. Lots of people took their kids on a quick weekend in the country to go fishing, boating and swimming. I made sure we stocked up. The ladies were running the store while I attended to my stores for deliveries. K was around, but had some obligations too, maybe getting inventory for the busy anticipated weekend.

We were also told across the river was a huge motorcycle convention, like a Southern Sturgis taking place Memorial Day and Labor Day weekends. We did not want to miss out on business. Gas was a priority. There literally is nothing for 17 miles and 22 if you head the other direction. As for the biker rally, there was a bridge on someone’s private property where these guys wouldn’t go all those miles on the road. Mostly bikers would pass in front of the store. I was told these guys bought so much beer it was ridiculous. Gas was something they would get as well. We planned on staying open a little later, maybe an hour to catch any late night business. The gas ran out early in the weekend. We still had 2 days to go and no one to bring us gas. We would have to get gas ourselves 17 miles at a private company, charging us a 50 gallon minimum to fill ourselves.
This started to get really expensive. Non-ethanol gas, a minimum and a 35 mile commute round trip. I let the ladies off for the rest of the weekend. Monday rolls around and hardly any business. No kids, no bikers, not much of anything. We did have our down time where K and I were at the store that day, not wanting to be away from each other. In that down time, a fella walked in, knowing our closing they worked the store during the day or at night, when no one is around. The Helper did have a key. We made her a “manager” and she had an interest in one day possibly owning the store. Lately, The Helper has not been there much, her cousin worked more of the 13 hour shifts. Her cousin mentioned that The Helper had more fun cutting grass rather than work the store. This comment really hurt because we were going to give her an opportunity. Tight knit community is what this was, it would look great to others if someone in the area owned the store.

I wondered why The Helper’s Cousin would rat out her family member, unless it was to get back at her. We told her this conversation would stay within these walls. She felt better by giving this information to us. K excused himself from the meeting, he had an obligation. It was The Helper’s Cousin and I alone. She thought it was safe now to tell me more information. The Helper’s Cousin told me that it wasn’t just the son, but the husband too. She would also steal cigarettes and a case of beer for him too. Our dailies of beer were not itemized, just totals. It was hard to tell if beer was stolen, but we would miss a case leaving, wouldn’t we? Not always the case. One thing that The Helper loved to do was to break down the cases into 6 packs, using those plastic rings. So, a six pack or 12 pack could leave our place easily if they were closing up, etc. We made it fair for our employees to get products if they wanted. They would get it at cost, not able to pay for it then, the items would go on a spreadsheet with the cost and items sold. If they wanted to buy cigarettes or something, they put it on the spreadsheet and it would be deducted from their pay for the week. Seemed fair, we thought.
Well, all things come to an end. This incident came to a screeching halt. The Helper’s Cousin was still on staff. K and I had to go to New Orleans for a job, maybe check on my home, etc. We called her to see if she needed to pick up anything for the store, she said maybe the staples, bread, eggs, milk, etc. We told her ok, we would be there by closing time, but instead we decided we would rather go in town and do a survey of products that were low. It was a Friday. We had a previous conversation with The Helper’s Cousin that we were having a hard time with the thefts and all, she would have to wait on her money. She offered to work for free, we said no and she would get paid, eventually. Not long, maybe an extra day, no longer than 5 days. We’re quite aware that no one can work for free, you have bills to pay and food to buy.
In the past, The Helper and The Helper’s Cousin would pay themselves from the register if we were not around. They would keep their hours on a spreadsheet, it would handle the hours and pay/hour. We didn’t really do overtime since we were in a financial struggle. Besides it worked it out where they split up the days. Six and half hours a piece didn't add up to full time.

K and I got back to the store about an hour and half from speaking to our employee. We drove up, finding a note on the front door that says “Store Closed”. WTH? The first thing we did was call The Helper’s Cousin. We didn’t get an answer, we were thinking the worst, family crisis, accident, etc. While I was desperately trying to call, K found the register tray in the hiding spot we specified. There was money bundled and a note written on a napkin saying “I’m sorry, I can’t do this anymore. I paid myself for the days I worked. So sorry.” We were pissed, needless to say. If there was a problem, we were both there to talk about it. She seemed like she really wanted to be there despite her cousin’s actions. We really thought it was odd for someone to live with the guilt of tattling on a family member, that it was too much. That was all she had to say. Instead, she did the one thing we told her not to do. Pay herself. She wiped us out of our bank and change for the weekend. No banks were opened on Saturdays and we didn’t take any credit cards. It was all cash. No love nor loyalty for her employers. We started questioning ourselves, are we bad people?

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