Total pages in book: 65
Estimated words: 59713 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 299(@200wpm)___ 239(@250wpm)___ 199(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 59713 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 299(@200wpm)___ 239(@250wpm)___ 199(@300wpm)
When we were finished talking about the class, he asked me about my online courses and how they were going in my pursuit of my certificate. He told me a few stories about his own education and early years in the classroom. By the time we stopped talking, it was into the evening, and I was shocked at how much time had passed. I could have stayed for much longer talking. Mr. Proctor was a kind old man, and the school was amazing. I knew I was going to love it.
CHAPTER 6
ALEX
It had been a long, long week, and I was dog-tired by the time Thursday rolled around.
The week had begun inauspiciously enough with Derek and I feeling pretty good about our social media plans for the spring menu. Kane had several wine pairings he was excited about and a tasting or two scheduled in the remodeled tasting room. Derek was having more fun with creating snacks and hors d’oeuvres for the tasting than he even was with the regular spring menu. All looked good.
Then Derek came bursting into the office, red in the face and a stream of f-bombs dropping all over the place. Apparently, the supplier for his entirely bird-centric menu was simultaneously raising prices at the same time they were saying they couldn’t fulfill the order and would have to pare it down and replace some items with other meats. Derek was livid and had spent all day on the phone with them before coming into the office.
“So, what do we do?” I asked. “It’s your menu.”
“How far are you on the campaign?” he asked, clutching his phone like he was going to snap it in half. It was on a charger, but he was waiting for another call from a different supplier and didn’t want to miss it.
“I mean, it’s already done,” I said. “I’ve even started sending out the preliminary ads. Thank God I didn’t mention specific dishes on it, but there are pictures of duck and chicken and that pigeon thing you made.”
“Squab,” he corrected. “It’s actually an Egyptian Mahshi, but that’s beside the point.”
“Yeah, that. But yeah, I’ve already sent things out and scheduled posts. I’ve got days of work to edit all that stuff,” I said. “Unless you can get another supplier to fill the order, that is.”
“I’m trying,” Derek said. “Either way, I’m never working with Wyss Farms ever again. Lying bastards.”
It turned out that not only did the other supplier not have what he needed, but they wouldn’t have been able to fill a large order like that so soon anyway. They were able to get some of what he needed, but it meant a price that we both knew Cam was going to flip over. The fact that not making the order would cost the same amount or more in my time didn’t ever seem to cross his mind. From his POV, I could just work off the clock if I had to.
Predictably, he was unhappy about having to pay anything extra, and after a few hours of discussion, he finally agreed to it. All seemed calm for approximately three hours. With my head down, editing the same copy on multiple sites, trying to remove details since we still didn’t know what was going on the menu, Cam burst into the office with a temper flare-up that I knew meant something else had gone wrong with the money.
“The hell, man?” I said as he slammed a folder on his desk and threw himself into his chair so hard it creaked.
“Stock market dip,” he muttered. “Everything is down. We lost thousands. Thousands, Alex.”
“Well, damn,” I said. Apparently, my response was too flippant for him, and he turned his attention from the phone in his hand to me.
“Yeah, damn,” he said. “You just talked me into spending far more on the spring campaign than I had budgeted, all because you two couldn’t secure the menu items before you started advertising like a bunch of dopes, and now we have way less to work with for the entire fiscal year, and who knows if we'll make it back?”
“Hey, man. I didn’t cause the market dip. It’ll recover. Chill.”
“Chill,” he said in a huff. “I’ll chill when I know the vineyard will survive another six months, how about that?”
I sighed and turned back to my work. The whole crew of us was crabby as hell today, and that included myself. But at least I was cognizant of my attitude. None of the others seemed like they knew, or cared, that they were being colossal dickheads.
Then Thursday night came.
I was about to clock out when a frantic call came in from Kane because both Danica and baby Jonah were sick. He needed to rush them to emergency care, but he had been tasting wine all day and needed to make sure someone could drive. I dropped everything I was doing and took the company van that Cam had just purchased a few months back and had only done one trip so far and picked them up.