The Fish Company
Betty ran the small shack of a store called the Fish Company which sat around the corner from Capitol Aquarium. The employee’s of Capitol would shop at The Fish Company as their prices on supplies couldn’t be beat, even if the customer service left a bit to be desired. I was making my living doing aquarium maintainence so I was in the store a-lot. Debbie offered me a job and I was so excited at again being able to go to work without having to fill out an application that I said yes immediately. Working at their counter would of course give me more chances to sell my services as well.
Betty and her gal pal Laurain chattered endlessley and I cleaned fish tanks, stocked shelves, anything to get away from their gossip and bad jokes. Laurain would use tired cliches out of context. She’d say, “I better get my boots, it’s getting deep in here.” At least six times a day and four of these times would make no god damn sense. She was like one of those talking dolls, pull the string and you had a pretty good shot at guessing which of it’s few phrases it would be sputtering out. My least favorite came up whenever she caught me sneaking off in the direction of the bathroom. “Going to go peel paint?” she’d hollar after me. I’d wince and continue on my way.
I much preferred working with Mike a grizzled old guy who’d done time in ‘nam and had taken a spiritual path that went from hippy to biker to doing peyote with Indians to living on a beat up old sail boat as he restored it for the owners. He eventually found Jesus or Jesus found him and now Mike worked selling aquarium supplies. As you can imagine Mike told great stories. He’d done time supposedly in a facillity in Norco California where they sent famous people when they got busted for drugs. He claims to have played guitar with some notable folks. The only one I knew well enough to be impressed by was Arthur Lee of the band Love. I didn’t know if all of Mike’s stories were true and I didn’t care. Telling a good story impresses me way more than telling the truth. When Mike wasn’t telling me about finding the sharpshooter from Texas who’d come to free them from a sniper who’d pinned the platoon down for two full days, skinned alive and beggin for a mercy kill we’d play name that tune to the oldies radio station. Betty suggested we go work at a record store where we could sit around and talk about fish all day.
The owners were a gay couple who lived in New York and ran a mail order pet supply business. I never saw them, and my boss was really Betty.
We had a wall that was all salt water fish many of whom were fed live gold fish. Frank was a ward of the court who’d come in frequently to watch the gold fish perish. Eventually I taught Frank how to feed the fish and he showed up reliably at 12:30pm everyday to perform his duties. He’d drop them in and then he’d give the play by play.
“Goldie is making a good fast run and sticking to the corners, if he gets behing the filter tubing he could have a chance. Gracie, the puffer if feigning indifference, but wait, ooooh, and it’s all over for Goldie.” A group of guys started coming around to watch Frank feed the fish and in no time at all they were buying fish tanks in the hope of one day being able to watch fish eat other fish in the comfort of their own homes. It seemed to me that Frank was cleaning up. His cloths looked better, his hair was brushed. He’d found a purpose. He’d found a job. And Frank was good at his job and getting better all the time. I’d never been that impressed with fish eating each other, but Frank made it exciting. He was a regular Lorne Greene.
Betty hadn’t been a part of making this magic happen and so of course, she shut it down. “Franks’ not an employee, he can’t be feeding the fish. And if he’s not going to buy anything I don’t want him hanging out.”
“I’ve sold four fish tanks this month because of him!”
I protested, I begged, but Betty was firm. I hated her. I hated authority without reason. She was what my dad referred to as a petty tyrant, with very little control in her life she’d rule this tiniest little corner with an iron fist.
I had to tell Frank. I not only had to tell him he couldn’t feed the fish, but I had to tell him he couldn’t watch and narrate as I did it. He was crushed and he was pissed, and so was I. I didn’t see Frank for a few months and when I did see him again he looked like he had before he’d had a “job” feeding the fish.
Betty had her fights with the owner and finally it got to be too much. She quit and Laurain in a show of solidarity quit as well. Betty advised me to ask for her job. She told me what it paid and it was about what I was now making with working at the fish company and keeping my business up. It sounded nice to not have a place where I could just go every day and make my living; no driving all over town, no worrying about people cancelling their accounts, no having to pick up new clients. When she mentioned that there were benefits I went home and put together a resume. By this point I’d done my film festival and I could stretch the Spike and Mike work as well as my work with my own business to cover holes in my resume. I actually looked on paper like your average hard working, upwardly mobile kinda guy.
I got the job. I ran home and told Bryna to quit her job and get in school. I felt we were going nowhere just working and one of us at least should be in school. She had a hard time with this, putting her wellbeing in someone elses hands, but I convinced her that I could handle it and that I wouldn’t let her down. She agreed and began getting her pre-requisites out of the way for an art therapy degree.
I met the owners, Mitch and Steve. Mitch ran things and I would talk with him once a month. I became super salesman and I cleaned the store up as much as possible with no budget. I brought my buddy Rich in to help me organize and get some Feng Shue going. I worried about the areas customers saw. The office fell apart. I hired my pal Mike to work there. Having two Mikes would be great.
It was wonderful having a boss for only an hour a week by phone. I drove to the supplier and hand picked my livestock. We beat everyone in towns prices. I went after the asian market stocking the parrot fish, arrowanas, and fancy gold fish that most seemed to appeal them. The plan worked and I had to learn to haggle as old asian men tried to buy everything in the store including my fixtures and the bosses truck parked out front.
I hired Bryan and Vu to help with the crazy weekend business. Bryan was Chinese or Japanese, I still hadn’t leaned to tell the difference and I didn’t want to ask lest I get in trouble. Vu was clearly vietnamese though he claimed to be Japanese. They knew their fish and we took turns going to the supplier. They caught our competitor following them around on one of their buying trips so they bagged up a bunch of over priced crap that they knew would be hard to move. The other shop keeper got the same fish, figurinig they knew what they were doing and then he split. Bryan and Vu put all the fish back and then shopped for fish we could actually sell. I loved them both.
Every weekend sales went a bit hire. When it was slow we’d all talk theory and I was getting increasingly knowledgable in how to keep the various kinds of aquariums; plant tanks, cichlid tanks, reef tanks. This won us a bigger slice of the geek market as they loved to show off their knowledge. I would share my knowledge mostly by asking questions so as not to come across as a know it all.
The geeks were an obsessive lot. Darin came in every week, sometimes several times a week always to look never to buy. I was keeping more exotic cichlids and Darin couldn’t help himself, he left with a couple of fish each time. He was heavy set and slow and very much and addict. This hobby had many addicts; people who lived in crappy little apartments and had very little social life outside of aquarium society meetings and hanging out in fish stores where everybody knew their name, but they’d have a rich person’s collection of exotic fish and the latest aquarium technologies to keep their fish healthier than they kept themselves by far. It got to the point where I’d lie to Darin when he asked if he got anything new. I didn’t need anymore of his money. But, Darin would have to check the cichlid tanks for himself.
“Oh my god, is that…” and off we’d go. “Christ almighty it’s a breeding pair. You’ve got a breeding pair. Oh, man, I’m gonna have to set up another tank?”
I didn’t ask what Darin did for a living and I hated to imagine what his humid aquarium filled dwelling must look like. He was a junkie, and I, his reluctant pusher.
I got a tip that Vu was stealing and after talking to Mitch I took him in the back and told him he no longer worked for me. I liked Vu and I felt bad about it, but I knew he was stealing. Hell, I’d been a thief myself, I couldn’t take it personally, and I explained to him that it was nothing personal when I let him go. Of course he claimed he wasn’t stealing and while I was so sure he was it was hard to doubt someone who was sittinng in front of you looking like they were going to cry. I suggested he track down whoever was stealing then. He was quiet. The merch stopped disappearing when Vu stopped clocking in.
A stange part of the business was mailing salt from our store to locations all over the west coast and then putting it in our inventory as a loss. I also got an envelope of checks from Mitch in New York every month that I would deposite in our account as if it was business done locally. He was a lawyer and a smart man. I figured the only reason he’d held onto this money losing business for so many years was hidden in these transaction which must have had something to do with taxes. It was all over my head.
Old Mike was continuously showing up late and I had to fire him next. I felt like the cliché yount asshole firing the old guy. I tried to give Mike so many chances but finally I had to worry less about my image of myself and my insecurities and just run my store. Mike had to go.
Mitch wasn’t sure about this decision. He’d become a bit of a mentor to me durring our one hour conversations. I loved the slow, precise and gentle way he spoke and I couldn’t help but start mimicing his speech patterns. He and Steve would be coming out to take care of some business in town.
They arrived at the store late at night and when I showed up the next morning I walked into a shit storm. They were furious at how I’d let the office become such a horrendous mess. I told them I was never in the office. I agreed to keep it better and I was apologetic. They left for the morning but Mitch was back around noon and wanted to talk.
Mitch showed me some numbers. The store had lost money, and increasing amount of money, every year for six years. Now, year seven and we had made a profit. A profit of less than ten dollars. I was already for my congratulation.
“Ten dollars doesn’t make this worth keeping.” Mitch told me.
“But I’m getting us there. What’s releavant isn’t what we made but what we’ve made compared to the same period last year.”
He got more and more upset at my inabillity to understand why making money was bad and I got more and more confused. I tried to simiplify the argument.
“Look, Mitch, you’re the boss. I’ll do what you say. Just tell me what you need and I’ll do it. The office, it’ll be clean the next time you come out. You want me to change what I stock, I’ll change it. I’m coninced we’ll be making a healthy profit by this time next year.”
He didn’t seem any more pleased than he already wasn’t but he left hit at that. It was a week later that I called him to say that we’d topped two thousand dollars three days in a row, a record. Again I waited for my congratulations.
“Did you get the truck running?”
“Mitch it’s the weekend. I’m too busy in the shop.”
“I don’t care if you close the shop. I want the truck taken’ care of.”
“Mitch, man, I just made you good money. I’m getting this place hopping.”
“I don’t care. Why can’t you understand. I want you to take care of the damn truck. I didn’t ask what you…”
“Hey Mitch I quit.” And I hung up.
Steve called back a few minutes later.
“Keith, Mitch was pretty excited. I’m sorry you guys aren’t seeing eye to eye. I have a friend coming to shut things down and count the money, so just go ahead and leave the keys on the register and thank you for working for us.”
“Hey Steve relax, I’m not into revenge. I really enjoyed working here too. Tell Mitch I’m sorry it didn’t work out.”
I left the money in the register, set the keys on top and I left.
I had a weeks vacation time coming which Mitch paid me. Mike was hired back as my replacement. The other Mike reported back to me that they were cooking up all kinds of reasons to believe that I’d been stealing from them. Oh well.
I had to find work and fast. Bryna had really had a hard time letting herself rely on me and now I had to be reliable. Never mind Rob’s no application rule, never mind my no corporate America rule, I applied for management positions at PetCo, PetSmart, and every locally owned pet store as well. I applied for maintainence jobs at the few outfits that ran mainainence services. These folks are very picky as anyone they hire migh go indpendent and take their clients along for the ride.
Finally I landed a job at PetCo, as assistant manager. Despite my desperation I asked for more money than I had been making and I got, plut benefits. I would start in a week. I took the week to relax and enjoy myslef before re-entering the hell that is corporate America.
>>>>Read Next Story, Radio Stooge>>>>>>
Betty and her gal pal Laurain chattered endlessley and I cleaned fish tanks, stocked shelves, anything to get away from their gossip and bad jokes. Laurain would use tired cliches out of context. She’d say, “I better get my boots, it’s getting deep in here.” At least six times a day and four of these times would make no god damn sense. She was like one of those talking dolls, pull the string and you had a pretty good shot at guessing which of it’s few phrases it would be sputtering out. My least favorite came up whenever she caught me sneaking off in the direction of the bathroom. “Going to go peel paint?” she’d hollar after me. I’d wince and continue on my way.
I much preferred working with Mike a grizzled old guy who’d done time in ‘nam and had taken a spiritual path that went from hippy to biker to doing peyote with Indians to living on a beat up old sail boat as he restored it for the owners. He eventually found Jesus or Jesus found him and now Mike worked selling aquarium supplies. As you can imagine Mike told great stories. He’d done time supposedly in a facillity in Norco California where they sent famous people when they got busted for drugs. He claims to have played guitar with some notable folks. The only one I knew well enough to be impressed by was Arthur Lee of the band Love. I didn’t know if all of Mike’s stories were true and I didn’t care. Telling a good story impresses me way more than telling the truth. When Mike wasn’t telling me about finding the sharpshooter from Texas who’d come to free them from a sniper who’d pinned the platoon down for two full days, skinned alive and beggin for a mercy kill we’d play name that tune to the oldies radio station. Betty suggested we go work at a record store where we could sit around and talk about fish all day.
The owners were a gay couple who lived in New York and ran a mail order pet supply business. I never saw them, and my boss was really Betty.
We had a wall that was all salt water fish many of whom were fed live gold fish. Frank was a ward of the court who’d come in frequently to watch the gold fish perish. Eventually I taught Frank how to feed the fish and he showed up reliably at 12:30pm everyday to perform his duties. He’d drop them in and then he’d give the play by play.
“Goldie is making a good fast run and sticking to the corners, if he gets behing the filter tubing he could have a chance. Gracie, the puffer if feigning indifference, but wait, ooooh, and it’s all over for Goldie.” A group of guys started coming around to watch Frank feed the fish and in no time at all they were buying fish tanks in the hope of one day being able to watch fish eat other fish in the comfort of their own homes. It seemed to me that Frank was cleaning up. His cloths looked better, his hair was brushed. He’d found a purpose. He’d found a job. And Frank was good at his job and getting better all the time. I’d never been that impressed with fish eating each other, but Frank made it exciting. He was a regular Lorne Greene.
Betty hadn’t been a part of making this magic happen and so of course, she shut it down. “Franks’ not an employee, he can’t be feeding the fish. And if he’s not going to buy anything I don’t want him hanging out.”
“I’ve sold four fish tanks this month because of him!”
I protested, I begged, but Betty was firm. I hated her. I hated authority without reason. She was what my dad referred to as a petty tyrant, with very little control in her life she’d rule this tiniest little corner with an iron fist.
I had to tell Frank. I not only had to tell him he couldn’t feed the fish, but I had to tell him he couldn’t watch and narrate as I did it. He was crushed and he was pissed, and so was I. I didn’t see Frank for a few months and when I did see him again he looked like he had before he’d had a “job” feeding the fish.
Betty had her fights with the owner and finally it got to be too much. She quit and Laurain in a show of solidarity quit as well. Betty advised me to ask for her job. She told me what it paid and it was about what I was now making with working at the fish company and keeping my business up. It sounded nice to not have a place where I could just go every day and make my living; no driving all over town, no worrying about people cancelling their accounts, no having to pick up new clients. When she mentioned that there were benefits I went home and put together a resume. By this point I’d done my film festival and I could stretch the Spike and Mike work as well as my work with my own business to cover holes in my resume. I actually looked on paper like your average hard working, upwardly mobile kinda guy.
I got the job. I ran home and told Bryna to quit her job and get in school. I felt we were going nowhere just working and one of us at least should be in school. She had a hard time with this, putting her wellbeing in someone elses hands, but I convinced her that I could handle it and that I wouldn’t let her down. She agreed and began getting her pre-requisites out of the way for an art therapy degree.
I met the owners, Mitch and Steve. Mitch ran things and I would talk with him once a month. I became super salesman and I cleaned the store up as much as possible with no budget. I brought my buddy Rich in to help me organize and get some Feng Shue going. I worried about the areas customers saw. The office fell apart. I hired my pal Mike to work there. Having two Mikes would be great.
It was wonderful having a boss for only an hour a week by phone. I drove to the supplier and hand picked my livestock. We beat everyone in towns prices. I went after the asian market stocking the parrot fish, arrowanas, and fancy gold fish that most seemed to appeal them. The plan worked and I had to learn to haggle as old asian men tried to buy everything in the store including my fixtures and the bosses truck parked out front.
I hired Bryan and Vu to help with the crazy weekend business. Bryan was Chinese or Japanese, I still hadn’t leaned to tell the difference and I didn’t want to ask lest I get in trouble. Vu was clearly vietnamese though he claimed to be Japanese. They knew their fish and we took turns going to the supplier. They caught our competitor following them around on one of their buying trips so they bagged up a bunch of over priced crap that they knew would be hard to move. The other shop keeper got the same fish, figurinig they knew what they were doing and then he split. Bryan and Vu put all the fish back and then shopped for fish we could actually sell. I loved them both.
Every weekend sales went a bit hire. When it was slow we’d all talk theory and I was getting increasingly knowledgable in how to keep the various kinds of aquariums; plant tanks, cichlid tanks, reef tanks. This won us a bigger slice of the geek market as they loved to show off their knowledge. I would share my knowledge mostly by asking questions so as not to come across as a know it all.
The geeks were an obsessive lot. Darin came in every week, sometimes several times a week always to look never to buy. I was keeping more exotic cichlids and Darin couldn’t help himself, he left with a couple of fish each time. He was heavy set and slow and very much and addict. This hobby had many addicts; people who lived in crappy little apartments and had very little social life outside of aquarium society meetings and hanging out in fish stores where everybody knew their name, but they’d have a rich person’s collection of exotic fish and the latest aquarium technologies to keep their fish healthier than they kept themselves by far. It got to the point where I’d lie to Darin when he asked if he got anything new. I didn’t need anymore of his money. But, Darin would have to check the cichlid tanks for himself.
“Oh my god, is that…” and off we’d go. “Christ almighty it’s a breeding pair. You’ve got a breeding pair. Oh, man, I’m gonna have to set up another tank?”
I didn’t ask what Darin did for a living and I hated to imagine what his humid aquarium filled dwelling must look like. He was a junkie, and I, his reluctant pusher.
I got a tip that Vu was stealing and after talking to Mitch I took him in the back and told him he no longer worked for me. I liked Vu and I felt bad about it, but I knew he was stealing. Hell, I’d been a thief myself, I couldn’t take it personally, and I explained to him that it was nothing personal when I let him go. Of course he claimed he wasn’t stealing and while I was so sure he was it was hard to doubt someone who was sittinng in front of you looking like they were going to cry. I suggested he track down whoever was stealing then. He was quiet. The merch stopped disappearing when Vu stopped clocking in.
A stange part of the business was mailing salt from our store to locations all over the west coast and then putting it in our inventory as a loss. I also got an envelope of checks from Mitch in New York every month that I would deposite in our account as if it was business done locally. He was a lawyer and a smart man. I figured the only reason he’d held onto this money losing business for so many years was hidden in these transaction which must have had something to do with taxes. It was all over my head.
Old Mike was continuously showing up late and I had to fire him next. I felt like the cliché yount asshole firing the old guy. I tried to give Mike so many chances but finally I had to worry less about my image of myself and my insecurities and just run my store. Mike had to go.
Mitch wasn’t sure about this decision. He’d become a bit of a mentor to me durring our one hour conversations. I loved the slow, precise and gentle way he spoke and I couldn’t help but start mimicing his speech patterns. He and Steve would be coming out to take care of some business in town.
They arrived at the store late at night and when I showed up the next morning I walked into a shit storm. They were furious at how I’d let the office become such a horrendous mess. I told them I was never in the office. I agreed to keep it better and I was apologetic. They left for the morning but Mitch was back around noon and wanted to talk.
Mitch showed me some numbers. The store had lost money, and increasing amount of money, every year for six years. Now, year seven and we had made a profit. A profit of less than ten dollars. I was already for my congratulation.
“Ten dollars doesn’t make this worth keeping.” Mitch told me.
“But I’m getting us there. What’s releavant isn’t what we made but what we’ve made compared to the same period last year.”
He got more and more upset at my inabillity to understand why making money was bad and I got more and more confused. I tried to simiplify the argument.
“Look, Mitch, you’re the boss. I’ll do what you say. Just tell me what you need and I’ll do it. The office, it’ll be clean the next time you come out. You want me to change what I stock, I’ll change it. I’m coninced we’ll be making a healthy profit by this time next year.”
He didn’t seem any more pleased than he already wasn’t but he left hit at that. It was a week later that I called him to say that we’d topped two thousand dollars three days in a row, a record. Again I waited for my congratulations.
“Did you get the truck running?”
“Mitch it’s the weekend. I’m too busy in the shop.”
“I don’t care if you close the shop. I want the truck taken’ care of.”
“Mitch, man, I just made you good money. I’m getting this place hopping.”
“I don’t care. Why can’t you understand. I want you to take care of the damn truck. I didn’t ask what you…”
“Hey Mitch I quit.” And I hung up.
Steve called back a few minutes later.
“Keith, Mitch was pretty excited. I’m sorry you guys aren’t seeing eye to eye. I have a friend coming to shut things down and count the money, so just go ahead and leave the keys on the register and thank you for working for us.”
“Hey Steve relax, I’m not into revenge. I really enjoyed working here too. Tell Mitch I’m sorry it didn’t work out.”
I left the money in the register, set the keys on top and I left.
I had a weeks vacation time coming which Mitch paid me. Mike was hired back as my replacement. The other Mike reported back to me that they were cooking up all kinds of reasons to believe that I’d been stealing from them. Oh well.
I had to find work and fast. Bryna had really had a hard time letting herself rely on me and now I had to be reliable. Never mind Rob’s no application rule, never mind my no corporate America rule, I applied for management positions at PetCo, PetSmart, and every locally owned pet store as well. I applied for maintainence jobs at the few outfits that ran mainainence services. These folks are very picky as anyone they hire migh go indpendent and take their clients along for the ride.
Finally I landed a job at PetCo, as assistant manager. Despite my desperation I asked for more money than I had been making and I got, plut benefits. I would start in a week. I took the week to relax and enjoy myslef before re-entering the hell that is corporate America.
>>>>Read Next Story, Radio Stooge>>>>>>
2 Comments:
At 8:39 PM, Mammoth Films said…
Did the Fish Store go under after you left? Ever find out what kind of shady dealings the owners had going on?
At 9:17 PM, Keith Lowell Jensen said…
I'm sure their shady dealings were a tax evasion scam.
The store sold shortly after my departure to a man named Jackie Chan, but unfortunately, not THE Jackie Chan. Then my friend Aaron bought it, but I don't think he had much luck and he sold it back to Jackie Chan. It's open still and I assume Mr. Chan still owns it.
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