Ch-ch-ch-changes

Change is not always a good thing. I reminded many of this during the political season when I heard so many blindly chanting for Obama that they wanted change. Yes, yes, I know I supported and voted for Obama. Doesn't mean a truth isn't a truth. Change is not always a good thing.

There are several changes heading my way; several changes I'm already ensconced in. There's work, home, health, love life, beliefs, and ideas.... all big changes, yet, not necessarily bad ones. The optimist in me tells me that it’s all for the good, or will be. The realist is a little frightened of some.

I was going to dedicate this post to all the changes, but instead I'm going to focus just on one.

Work.

This is at the request of my mom who is part of this change; a very large part. I'm not sure what she hopes to accomplish with me posting this. She'll never read it. She'll never ask me to read it to her. Maybe she just wants her story heard. It doesn't even matter how the tale is told as long as the sympathy gained from it goes to her. Maybe. She's sure to get that from me. Hopefully I'll, be able to convey it to you.

I've never been one to dwell on something for a long time. Once done is done, it's over and there is nothing that can change it so why kvetch, whimper, whine, or bitch? It's a completely different thing when it's someone who is close to you that is affected. There is no way to get away from the reaction of an event from those you love. Well, there is but that doesn't make you a very good loved one, does it?

Don't get me wrong... there are times when I want to grab my mother by her shoulders and tell her to get over it whilst I shake her violently; to yell at her so she understands that the bitterness that she holds will only eat her up. There are other times that I want to run far, far away so I don't have to hear her say the ugly, vile, unbelievable things that issues forth from her. And then there are the times I just want to hold her tight so the action of my body pressed against hers can wick away all the pain and disappointment and anger that lives in the blackness of her heart and soul.

I know that it is only a temporary blackness though; a dye pellet in the liquid sunshine of her. The only fear I have is that the dye will stain. I'm trying every cleanser. Here is this one:

Work has always been at 7-Eleven. For my mom 7-Eleven has been her work for 28 years. Through her, for me, it's been 24 years. We worked for one franchise owner and this year, on February 6, 2009, he passed away. Five years ago, Don gathered together his lawyers and 7-Eleven corporate people and made it so that if in the event of his passing, my mom would get the store. She was named designee for the franchise and placed onto the checking account of his incorporation. Her future was secure... or so we thought.

Before Don passed away, things with his health had become very rough, pulling on emotions and strengths of everyone, but mostly on my mom from my vantage point. I've already covered this in another post so I won't go into detail here. We took a break for a week or two before we dived into the business part of what needed to be taken care of. We put in queries to corporate as to what needed to be done on our end to help whatever paperwork changeovers go smoothly. The answer we got should have been the first sign. It was a question: Why is she the designee?

This must have bothered them immensely because the first meeting they scheduled with my mom included one of Don's sons representing the estate. It could have been for legal reasons, not that they told us one way or the other, but they did have a paper for the son to sign... releasing them from any claim? The meeting included Enid and Jim from corporate, my mom and me, and the son. Enid informed us that even though my mom was named as the designate for the store she still had to qualify to be a franchisee. The steps to do this seemed simple enough: a credit check, a police check, a couple of tests, and training. We asked if I could be there by her side for all of it. They said yes. I knew we'd have no problems then.

Thirty something years ago, my mom took a class that helped her study for her test for her citizenship. She passed with flying colors. Since then she's had her husband and her children to do for her, because that is what we do. My dad was the one who checked homework and ensured we knew our lessons. My mom made sure we stayed fed and clothed properly. When my parents divorced it became my job to help out with such things as making sure she understood what the insurance was covering, or whether or not we needed to send a letter or make a call to cancel some service or other or whether or not we paid the first dollar amount on the bill or the second that included a late fee.

This is the way of my mom’s culture. This is the way of many cultures: children taking care of the parents…. even though my mom is famous for bailing out all of her children, still, we do what we can for her and if it’s as simple as spelling the word f-o-r-t-y so she can write a check, that’s what we do.

The credit check went flawlessly; the police check was a breeze so all that was left was a couple of tests and then onto training. The first test was scheduled for 8 am. We were there at 730. We waited till 8:10 and then they escorted my mom to the room. I wasn’t allowed in. I wasn’t allowed to be at her side through all of it. The test was on a computer. It took my mom over an hour to answer their questions before they brought her back out. We waited another 45 minutes before Enid sat down with us. The results were worse than bad.

My mom is a sixty year old Asian woman doesn’t know computers except for entering numbers for ordering. Hell, my job security came from the fact that neither my mom nor the boss, Don, wanted to touch a computer. Any analysis, reports, or printouts needed were all ensured by me. My mom was able to look at numbers, order up to a certain amount, and send it off.

“Let us take the test again,” I said. “You can make sure we don’t cheat. Just let me read her the questions and explain any concepts she doesn’t grasp. It’ll be her store. She’ll have final decision. Just like this test.”

“That’s not how it works,” Enid said, but she did go through the rest of what the processes to qualify would entail in case this test could be looked over. She handed us a franchise contract. She highlighted pertinent information that we/my mom would be tested on. She explained the licensing procedures and time-lines for changeover. She gave us a list (1 page, double column) of what was required of a franchisee. I noticed at the bottom it said, “All qualifications are at the discretion of 7-Eleven.”

One week stretched into two and then almost into three. Another meeting scheduled this time with a member of the estate. Enid and Jim refused my mom the franchise. Enid asked if I could franchise the store. The $125,000 franchise fee was impossible. They asked the estate if they wanted to franchise: $125,000? Out of the question. Two choices left. Attempt to sell the store or walk away and lose the capitol.

“Wow!” I said, “In this economy you must have people lined up to purchase a franchise.”

“Yes. We do,” was the answer, deflating me. They have three just waiting for the right store.

“You’re requirement list is qualified stating that you can overlook any or all of those requirements. My mom has been running the store for years while Don’s been sick and it’s still making money. Why would you want to lose a commodity like her?”

“If we make an exception this time we’ll have to make on all the time.”

“Who’s going to know? She makes you guys’ money.”

It fell on deaf ears. Their minds were made up. The decision was made to sell the store. The estate would handle the sale and the temporary licensing. My mom and I drove in silence for about 5 minutes before the explosion of curse words and questions spilled from us. We discussed things the whole way home. Conspiracy theory after conspiracy theory entered our minds and was dismissed as soon as it was voiced. Everything from the corporation wanting the $125,000 franchise fee to the boys wanting the store for themselves crossed our minds. (The franchise fee is required of everyone except…. the designee.)

It’s been a couple of months now. The store has a buyer. Licensing needs a few months to go through and then the changeover can begin. Dates of the changeover keep changing from the end of May to the middle of June to the end of it. My mom is especially bitter and it bleeds over from conversations just having to do with work. The last month has been filled with statements about how she can’t wait to be done here. The employees and the customers and corporate are irritating her more and more to the point of where once we are finally done, it should be a relief… but I know better.

We’ve discussed what to do next. Open a store next to the 7-Eleven and drive it under was one idea. Revenge seems sweet now. Start our own chain is another. With our combined knowledge and experience it would be easy enough. Relax and collect unemployment for as long as we can is another. After a quarter of a century of working, we deserve a break. Find a job starting at the bottom is another. Never to take on the responsibility of hiring, firing, cajoling, or counseling employees: never waking up at 3 am to drag ourselves to the store after a robbery: never having to confront a pregnant woman with six children in tow trying to shoplift a beer.

I’m treating it as a blessing. I’ll have more time to dedicate to my calligraphy business. I’ll have more time for writing. I’ve been spending a lot more time with my mom, able to help take care of her instead of the other way around. I make sure I have dinner with her as many times during the week that I can. I endure and try to quell or explain what I can. We shall overcome, improvise, and adapt. We will survive and do well. There is fear, yes, but not enough to keep us from doing what needs to be done. Change is coming. Change is pretty much here. Change is not always good but I think we’ll be just fine.

On a final note:

My Wicca religion is not something I hide from my family. I’ve had to rein in my mom telling her not to tell everyone that I’m a witch and that I cast spells and read tarot and bones and such. But, even then, some of the members of corporate knew that I practiced witchcraft.

After my mom was refused the store, Enid, the refuser, and our 7-Eleven liaison we’re discussing the sale of the store. A former liaison came in and was surprised to hear that it was the store that I worked at and made mention that I was a witch. After he left, she, in turn, asked my current liaison to ensure that I knew it wasn’t her that refused my mom. That in fact it was Jim, it was his decision. According to my liaison, ever since she gave us the news, her back has been hurting her and I’m pretty sure she believes that I am the cause. Priceless.

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