Our President will be speaking this evening  about our departure from Iraq.  Thousands if not hundreds of thousands of people lost their lives in that ancient land  over the past 8 years.  Since before Constantine declared that worshiping  the Nazarene would be the one true religion, empires have come and gone over Iraq’s mountains and deserts. We are just one of many nations to leave Iraq to it’s own people.  Maybe this time will be different, no king, no potentot, just a bare bones government. Words of Sharia  http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sharia   are spoken on the fringe, and maybe this is what needs to be. I don’t know.

I do know that our President has to wear many hats. Some which he didn’t even purchase,  but they do come with the office.  Our country needs him to don a hard  hat. We need a new way of managing this economic illness. Wall Street needs to head back up to Manhatten and leave governance to the people we elected. Obama needs to clean house and turn his attention to a more schooled list of economic advisors. The Wall Streeters have had their run and it has proven to be only beneficial to their shareholders and their institutions. None of their policies have impacted Main Street. Now it should be Main Street’s turn, because without Main Street, there are no resources for desert campaigns in foreign lands.

None of my nonsense matters though, because we aren’t leaving Iraq. We are merely moving West to another ancient land. The one that bankrupted Russia and I think gave Alexander the Great a run for his money too. So the march of folly will continue. 

http://www.costofwar.com/

and the beat goes on

The photo above is of an AWMC customer just sitting back savoring the moment. A view of him admiring his own work was worth a moment of contemplation. Sometimes the journey is just a sweet as the destination. Months of sweat, toil and waning resources transforms into this moment.

Just another quiet moment without pomp and circumstance, just appreciation for a job well done. This particular boat was found back in a slough somewhere between Bethel Island and Stockton. She was just sitting there waiting for her eventual resurection. Not unlike the orphan waiting for parents, hoping and waiting silently for a miracle. Well here is a miracle. A new life begins.

The owner wanted to recreate a family memory from days long since passed of  family and an old Chris Craft, Catalina and a sunburn. I wish we had more customers with the patience and resources to see more pictures like this one from the office. So do all of those orphans out there….waiting. For you!

Our congressional representative attempted to dab some whipping cream on what I wouldn’t call an economic sundae today. Ms. Capps made comments about growth and recovery spurred along by our government’s previous actions.

Now, when I was a child my great grandomother of strong Missouri stock would say a simple phrase, “show me.”  With that in mind, I have absolutely no idea from which planet Ms. Capps was speaking. Obviously not this one. I suppose if you spend enough time in a cacoon nurtured by staff and supporters, you begin to believe what is fed to you.

A pure cut way to really know how bad things are right now, may be to actually speak with your constituents. I am not talking about the ones who pay your way, or the ones with lawyers and lobbyists greasing your path. I am talking about getting down to the street level. Maybe a walk, not a drive, through your district’s industrial neighborhoods would be in order. Spend a couple of weeks canvasing as if you were trying to get elected.   Approaching your task with a perspective unique to us and our community rather than spewing talking points from the White House would be a great start.

Get mad Ms. Capps, get active. We need representation and not whatever this is you call governance. As a small business owner I can tell you first hand that absolutely nothing our congress has done or is proposing to do is working for this economy. So you have a choice; keep cashing your federal salary and play out your term, or get with it and shake things up. Please don’t blame it on the opposition, as these are times for new rules. These are times to make a name for yourself and help our little 805 area code any way you can. Show me.

We have resorted to becoming a wrecking yard lately, trying to glean any value out of what we have in the yard. This keel was removed this morning from an old IOR racer who has had a good life but now must retire to the great landfill on Toland Road.

It has been a rough month and my wife asked me in the middle of the night,”is there any light at the end of the tunnel?” I thought about the question for a moment and processed the usual responses ie; don’t worry, we can do anything etc etc and then I replied,” Honey, you are the light.”

How true that is. No matter how challenging times can be, I believe that with a strong will and a positive attitude, anything is possible.

Hang tough people.

The title of this post is from one of my favorite movies,”The Royal Tenenbaums”. Something to it’s affect was carved on Royal’s grave stone at the end of the movie. I find it prescient at the moment. Not the grave stone part, but the action of it’s prose. 

One of my “big” ideas when I started this one sided conversation with myself was not just to create enough material to thoroughly bore the hell out of it’s readers, but more importantly to compile an accurate account of what goes through the mind of a small business entrepeneur during both good and bad times. Not from the side of “hey look at me, look how I did it” but more importantly to illuminate how god damn difficult things can be and to share total gratification from the process with all of the other type A unemployable types out there. Yes the voyage is more important than the destination, unless you should find yourself on the deck of a sinking battleship….in a storm.

Running two small shipyards in Southern California during a recession has proven to be the most challenging experience in my life….so far.  Customers have disperesed to points unknown and bankers have become let us just say, timid.

It is so damned slow right now I actually called the CI yard with my cell phone today to make sure the phones were capable of receiving an actual phone call. Sadly, the phones proved to function just fine. My coworkers have been asked to only work the hours required to complete their tasks.  God bless them as they have remained here for us and our customers. Unfortunately, their hours have shrunk by over 35% this year over last and we cannot say the same for their personal financial needs.

Yes times are tough and appear to be getting tougher. There is no vanity in holding back our truths. I can clearly see that my competetors are experiencing the same dismal journey. The only difference I can guess, is that they are much larger and  have much deeper pockets.

So here I sit and write in front of an enormous chasm, both deep and wide. I will throw these notes into the well not knowing who may read them or why. All I ask is that if you do happen upon my words, that you understand they are written merely to provide a view in time from the perspective of a hard working soul, attempting to keep a sinking battleship off a lee shore during a storm.

Fair Winds

You know, business can be a bitch. Recently I ressurected  my remote controlled fart machine. It’s amazing how something so stupid, so simple can change the mood of the room. Things have been downright brutal down here at the waters’ edge. Sick friends, languishing commerce, mounting bills, but this little baby has actually helped out. I first hid it under my Irish Mafia  bolo hat that I have nailed on the wall at the entrance to our chandlery and would click the remote as people left the business. It was great. 

Now, our coworkers have been changing it’s location to trick me, the lawful owner of the device.

Don’t misunderstand me, we are running a professional enterprise down here, but you can only take so much b.s. before the impulse to press the clicker takes over and , there it goes again.

Yes we are managing projects, repairing equipment, and sticking to the business plan, but ……… at least we’re not playing farmtown or something like that. what about “fart town” ?

In response to the Star’s column regarding pending legislation on newborn children of illegal immigrants, I would submit that none of us have the right to determine the fate of these innocent young children born on our soil. The immoral nature of such a claim makes me sick to my stomach.

Mr. Gallegly’s arrogant attempt to destroy these children’s only chance for hope is indefensible. I submit that our nation is no longer a nation of borders and expansion, but rather a nation of people and inclusion. True, our resources are being exploited from all sides whether they are currency or land, but this ideology is one of hate, not one of hope.

When the framers built our nation, they determined that manifest destiny required the inclusion of the West. No regard was given to the centuries old relationships the territory had developed with our brothers from the South. Nothing has changed today, as our reliance on these people is stronger than ever before. The wheels of commerce would cease to turn if it were not for these hard working souls, travelling and laboring for one purpose, absolute hope for their children.

What gives us the right to allow our elected representatives to radically destroy this hope? It not only lacks any semblance to the Christian faith from which these very representatives base all of their arguments. It is just plain wrong in the eyes of a dedicated citizen of our great republic, but also in the eyes of a 6^th generation Californian

There was a time when a sailor would call a designer and order a custom wooden sailboat. Hand crafted by skilled artisans with love and care. This particular boat was sailed on her own bottom from Japan to California. She probably had a happy life, but now her time is done.

An empty shell with nothing else to give or offer, she is to be dismantled and stuffed into our local landfill. Maybe someday, a tree will grow up from a long abandoned site and a new day will begin. Realistically, archaeologists will find her pieces and spend countless hours reassembling her……maybe.

As a former stockbroker, I have taken pride in my “perceived” understanding of business models. I spent years at a desk reading about companies, managements and economics. Now that I am “in the sea” of commerce directly, the lens through which I see these topics has changed. Let it be known that there are no “rosy” tones in my lens anymore. The acid wash of pure commerce cuts clearly through the hot air, myths and untruths that Wall Street actors are so adept at applying. No longer a theoretical businessman, I am now purely and simply a warrior of commerce.

With that out of my system, here I sit and write whilst compressors, grinders, blowers and workers toil at their tasks. The compressors, god bless them, never complain except for the occasional squeeling belt or clack from lack of lubrication. The grinders whirrr along so long as they have current flowing across their everwaning brushes. The workers toil so long as they have customers to help and lest not forget the sangria of the entire system, pay, mula daniro.

The very real estate that I am sitting on right now, this valuable land, owned by all, controlled by few, allows us to carry on with our daily labors.  Many(99%) of the occupants of our “great reef” have little or no comprehension of the burden’s this real estate bears upon me.  We can start with the land itself, abused and tortured since it was exposed and shaped shortly after the Kennedy dynasty ended.  Having not washed into the sea, it still “holds us up” and allows us to perform our duties but at significant costs to all involved.  These costs both direct and latent acrete over time to points of  incalculable measure.  The operator’s and customer’s combined greed, environmental disrespect and plain ignorance have added to these costs.

Slowly over time, many “sharecroppers” have attempted to mold things in their own vision with little or no capital with no great affect at all. Buildings were erected, torn down and subsequantly rebuilt. Piers, docks and cranes were lovingly planned and installed with minimal budgets and yet if you add up all the costs for improvements that were capitalized on these tiny family owned balance sheets, the totals would be in the millions of current US dollars. All of this, to “eek” out a living on the waterfront. To serve the customer better.

Ah yes, the customer. The single most important part of  this equation. Boat yards are funny places when it comes to observing the customer/proprietor relationship. This relationship is unique in that I know of no other business model that gives the customer so much flexibility ie; the ability to stand “in the work area, “under” heavy loads, and “on” yard equipment. I don’t know many restaurant owners who allow their patrons to ” cook” their own dinner in the kitchen, Worse yet, hire their own chef to prepare their meals in the proprietors kitchen! If I went to my local Jiffy Lube and asked the manager if I could change my own oil with the oil I brought along, he would ask me what the hell I was smoking!

So I vent!    Looking out my window to survey et al, I see strange cooks in my kitchen and customers lugging their own oil under the rack. But who am I to complain you ask? True, so true. After all, I am the caretaker and I can change the rules.  The model needs changing, but the changes I am contemplating will surely disrupt the space time continuom as it pertains to age old traditions at the water’s edge. 

So change is in the air along with wood, paint dust and the sound of commerce plugging along ever so slowly here on these not so virgin grounds.

Signing off!

Almost two years ago, exhausted, stressed out and looking for solutions, I found out about a gentleman who might have the answer. Randy, an aquaintance from PBYC, discussed hypnotherapy with me. My initial thought was the image of Randy standing over me with a conical hat emblazoned with a star and a crescent moon telling me to stare into his crystal ball.

Well, little did I  know his true intentions were to subconsciously program me to hire him once the second yard was online. “You will hire me in January Andy, now listen carefully, you are walking down a staircase into a dark basement, but remember you will hire me in January”.

During our consultations, I took advantage of our time to actually  just sleep while he attempted to place me in an altered state. He had to constantly shake me out of my slumber so he could continue to program me. Our meetings were mutually beneficial as he secured a billot with Anchors Way, and I got a great nap!

Two years later, we are saying goodbye to one of the best people I have ever had the honor to work with. Now if you know me, I don’t say that …..ever and I certainly wouldn’t post it on the www.

So with that thought, we are going to notice your absence, instantly. Randy you spoiled us with your mature, thoughtful service to our little company and her many customers.

May you be blessed with a hapless voyage north(but we do know better) and a wonderful new chapter in Oregon.

Fairwell good fellow! 

TO RANDY’S FRIENDS AND CUSTOMERS, PIZZA AT AWMC HQ ON 7/16/10 AT 1230 COME AS YOU ARE!