grasswire's pie-and-jammery, or how to succeed in business after trying really hard. As many here know, the grasswire primitive, a 60s-something farmerette up over there in Wisconsin, and a popular denizen of the cooking and baking forum on Skins's island, is entertaining hopes of starting a business.
The prospect of a primitive starting a business, other than in illicit drugs, is a hair-raising thought, but never mind; her mind's set on it.
The idea was first mentioned a couple of weeks ago, when the grasswire primitive "sealed the deal" with the owner of the property.
http://www.conservativecave.com/index.php/topic,56842.0/The grasswire primitive wants to operate the pie-and-jam shop as a "non-profit" organization, but it's reasonable to assume, as many of us have known the grasswire primitive for years now, that she expects to pay herself an executive-level salary and benefits and bonuses, as is done with other "non-profits."
And then two weeks after the grasswire primitive first announced the impending business, a progress report to the primitives, again with commentary from decent and civilized people:
http://www.conservativecave.com/index.php/topic,57415.0.htmlfranksolich won't go into the details, as they're adequately explained in the two threads above, so probably it's a good idea to read those, before continuing to read this.
Anyway. The area of Wisconsin in which the grasswire primitive lives is similar, roughly, with the area here on the eastern slope of the Sandhills of Nebraska in which franksolich lives--other than, one assumes, there's more trees up there, and it gets colder, with more snow, during the winter.
The town closest to franksolich, who lives out in the country, is six miles away, a town of circa 1,500 people, a town whose limits stretch east-west four miles, and north-south three miles. There's lots and lots of really big lawns in this town, acres of lawns.
There is a post office, a grocery store, a hardware store, two banks, a convenience store-gasoline station, a regular full-service gasoline station, two bars, an automotive-parts store, the county courthouse, the city hall, eight churches, a cafe, a fancy restaurant, a chiropractory, a medical clinic, the town telephone-cable television-internet company, a massive grain elevator, four hair-dresseries, two barbers, two second-hand stores, one store that sells antiquities, two museums, a full-fledged public library, two offices of attorneys, a telemarketing business, the VFW Club, some Masonic order, a laundromat, a high school, an elementary school, a parochial (Lutheran) elementary school, a brand-new enormous football field, the county fairgrounds, a do-it-yourself car-wash place, a swimming pool, world-class tennis courts, what is considered an "awesome" golf course (and clubhouse) by golfing professionals, a blacksmithery, a mortuary, two insurance offices, a U.S. Department of Agriculture office, the city shop (mechanical and vehicles), an automotive dealership, a harness-maker, a computer-repair place.
There is no jail; those five or six times a year the county sheriff picks someone up, the county has to rent a cell two counties to the west (as the county adjacent doesn't have a jail either).
Oddly, despite that nearly the whole populace are Second-Amendmenters, there is no place in the whole county where one can purchase firearms and ammunition; one has to go to the next county to find a merchant of those particular goods. I dunno why this is, but there's no locksmith in town either.
The town lies alongside a major U.S. Highway that is also popular with long-distance bicyclists (the highway is two lanes, but given the nature of agricultural equipment that travels upon it, it is actually wider than four-lane highways in blue cities and blue states). This is, apparently, a "scenic" area.
Again, excepting that there's probably more trees in Wisconsin, and it gets colder and snowier in Wisconsin during the winter, this all is probably very much like where the grasswire primitive lives.
I listed the businesses of the town--all of them independent, none of them affiliated with any evil corporations--but there's actually many more businesses than that; it's just that they don't have signs out front saying what they are. I've been around here a while, and I still don't know them all; the ones I know, most of them seem to be automotive-and-lawn repair places. Such places don't need signs; people who need those services know what and where they are.
franksolich went to one such establishment this morning, the local seamstressery. Some time ago, I had gotten four pairs of pants at the Goodwill store in the big city (forty-five miles distant), two pair for 99 cents, but much to my dismay, with a recent weight-loss, they were three inches too fat for me. Since I hadn't worn them yet, since they weren't dirty or torn (franksolich doesn't do laundry; when clothes get dirty, he throws them away), I decided to have them "taken in," so they'd fit.
The local seamstress is a small, petite, frail woman in her early 60s, but looks to be in her late 30s. She owns four farms, but farming isn't her thing to do; she prefers to sew. So she rents the farms, and sews. To keep the business "viable," she also sells antiques on the side, and eggs.
(This morning's price was $1.25 per dozen of less-than-24-hours-old eggs.)
In the back, she also changes oil and tunes up engines; being a farm girl, she knows what's she's doing, and does it very well.
She has to do all this extra stuff, to support the sewing business.
When picking up my newly-tightened pants, I gave her a description of the grasswire primitive's hopes for opening a pie-and-jammery. As the grasswire primitive's potential "market" for pie and jam appears about the same (size, and characteristics) as here, the local seamstress said the grasswire primitive's going to have to sell a Hell of a lot more than just pie and jam, to make it pay.
I mentioned I had suggested the grasswire primitive sell fishing bait and tackle on the side, and get a mortician's license, so as to help pay the expenses of the pie-and-jammery. She thought yeah, that would help, maybe if the grasswire primitive also got into the vacuum-cleaning repair business, and added a beef butchery and locker to the enterprise.
And installing a couple of beauty-salon chairs and performing some cosmetology on the side, so as to bring in revenue when the grasswire primitive's not busy embalming.
"She's got to sell a lot more than pies and jams, to make a go of it," the seamstress said.
And then she thought of something else.
"If the people there are like the people here, they prefer to make their own pies and jams, rather than spending money for things made by somebody else."
