It's a question everyone asks their kids and asks of themselves. What do you want to be when you grow up? With all the choices out there it is often hard to make a decision. When I was young and it was asked of me, I had not idea. I remember all the real young kid dreams, like president or astronaut.
When I was in third grade a teacher gave the class an assignment to finish the story she had started on the chalk board. It was something about an engine or something that sounded like it was ready to explode or along those lines and I remember being inspired to write something. I don't remember what, but I remember trying to write as fast as the thoughts came in a frantic attempt to keep up with the story as it flowed out of my brain. I had to write faster or I'd forget some of it.
There was one time I wrote a story about astronauts and a trip into space. I got up in front of the class to read it. When I got to the bottom of the page,I realized I messed up the end of the story. The final few sentences made no sense to me. So I stumbled, made half sentences and stopped when I realized I didn't know where the story was heading and I might of not finished the assignment. I dropped my hands and gave an embarrassed smile and went to sit down. As I passed a few classmates, they asked me what happened to the space travelers? I didn't know and I was uncomfortable with the attention so I shrugged my shoulders and said, "I don't know" Years later I realized I'd tripped over the cliff hanger. It was a lucky break, and an example of how my life would run. I'd trip over something, got it right and get some glory out of it.It always made me uncomfortable.
I have said over the years that writing was taken away from me by teachers who were more concerned with grammar then story. In part that is true, but mostly it was me not wanting to do the ground work to do something that would be successful. I could write the most wonderful stories, but if it could not be understood what good was it.
The other criticism I have is valid. After grade six, topics to write about were boring. I wanted to write stories about great adventures and amazing places. I be asked to write an essay on the gross national product of Borneo.
Other criticism like not following the assignment were also valid. I once did this assignment for seventh grade I think, I don't remember the topic, but it was supposed to be written in the third person. I start the assignment, 'The sun came streaming into my morning window strong and bright.', or something like that. I was writing in the first person for all you non-English majors. I end the story letting it all hang out and I think I quoted some lines that might of been from the Bible and were definitely off the album 'Jesus Christ Superstar'. I think I finished it something like, 'To misquote a famous person, 'Into your hands I commend my paper.' or something along those lines. It was a rare bit of me coming out of my extremely over protective, quiet shell to write freely. On the Day of class the paper was due, we were asked to hand our papers forward. For those in the unknow, you hand your paper to the person who is sitting in front of you and they hand their paper and yours to the person in front of them and so forth until it gets to the front of class and the teacher then collects them from the head of each row.And, oh yeah I was in the back of the row so my paper most likely stayed on top. I sat in the back, so I handed my paper to the girl in front of me and to my horror she stops to reads some of it, then looks at me and says "I only read the beginning, but it sounds good." I remember begin more uncomfortable about her reading it then to take the complement for what it was. In my life, I was always able to discount the complements and magnify the insults or my short comings.
The next day the Teacher decides to read some of the papers. He reads from front to back the first few. He picked mine up to read. I'm horrified, hoping no one can see it is my paper. I'm sure I'm turning a bright shade of red while I try in hide. He reads through the first dozen lines and stops before the end where I let it all hang out. He was sympathetic to my shyness and only read the beginning, pointing out that it is written well, but written in the first person.
In Eleventh grade, in 1975, We had a career day. I believe it was in the library or at the entrance to South High school, I don't remember. I never really knew what I wanted to be when I grew up and at career day, I still didn't. I didn't even know what I was doing there. I walked around looking at the different booths from different colleges. The only booth I stopped at was the Air Force. I thought I wanted to fly, be a pilot. The recruiter greeted me warmly and I say I want to be a pilot. He says We have enough of them and I walk away. It was three years after the Vietnam War and Saigon, in South Vietnam was about to fall to the North. America was not fighting a war and had no use for an other pilot. At that time of my life a single negative word would side track me. I continued to walk around until it was over not investigating any other options.
For a couple of years around sixteen, I'd worked at a typewriter repair shop. (Yeah, go ask your grandmother what that was.) ,but that hadn't worked out. I hadn't realized I needed to work hard to be successful. From as far back as I can remember I had worked for my father delivering milk. At this point of my life I wanted to do something else. I wanted to bring money into the house, not take it out.
The opportunity came just as I was graduating High School. A friend called and said a store, Finest Supermarket in New City was hiring, it was the fall of 1976. The Store was located where the parking lot of what is now Shop Rite is, just off the corner of New Hempstead on North Main St.Shop Rite would be built right behind Finast after Insaria Supermarkets bought the location a few years after I'd left, It was a small store by today's standards and it had a basement where the groceries were stored. I applied for the job as a stock clerk and was hired. I remember my first task that first day. I was told to clean up the front of an isle, what was called the isle cap where a special was being sold. It was September and I dug into it working hard and sweat poured off my face by the time I was done. I worked there and still worked for my Dad and went to college. I'd gone to Rockland Community College because a girl I'd just started dating was planning to go there, she never did. We broke up after a few weeks later when she announced she was getting married. It must of been an arranged marriage thing, I guess.
I'd never experienced signing up for courses at a college before and I didn't know anyone who'd ever. I went up to RCC to register for classes. I believe it was a day or two after labor day. I drove up and I think there were signs to follow.
I had trouble wrapping my head around the fact that you could sign up for any class you wanted as long as it's number didn't start with a two. A class starting with a two meant it was the second part of the course and you had to take the first part before it. I wandered around, I don't remember if it was the field house or some class rooms where everyone was signing up for classes. I wandered into this business room because I wanted to study business. A Teacher there was rounding up students to fill her set up business program. It was easy and if don't correctly would give you all the credits need to get a two year degree in two short years.Since I was so lost I signed up. It was like high school, something familiar, if not pleasant. I called it thirteenth grade. I know, not very original, but if you wanted original go read someones blog from Harvard.
I took classes four days a week, starting around eight AM in the morning, until about one or so in the afternoon. All my classes were with the same people and the familiarity of it all made it comfortable.
Of course my Dad, god love him couldn't let me go to college without me dropping off milk to a stop. I don't remember the exact address, but it was most likely South-western Spring Valley, maybe a little more west, up toward Monsey. He made a convincing argument for doing it. He said, "It's on your way." It would of been on my way if I was taking Route 59 all the way to College Ave. , but I wasn't, I was taking the Thruway.
On the first day of classes, I grab the milk and figured I can make the class and deliver the milk in about thirty minutes. Back then I wasn't a wiz at estimating like I am now. Now, I estimate how long it will take me to get somewhere, then I add at least ten minutes, fifteen if I think there might be a little traffic. Back then, everything was a half hour or less to get to. I think on that first day I dropped the milk off with about ten minutes to spare. I'll get there I figured, which I did, but not anywhere near on time. I think I was about half an hour late. And being College, the teacher didn't say a word when I showed up. I sat in the back of the class room lost on the subject of Business she was teaching.
I ended up on the three year plan at RCC. I dropped Accounting that first semester, because I couldn't get my head around debiting and crediting a ledger. It's funny now all these years late I love the idea of numbers and statistics. I look at it and think, I was a bit of a dull/lazy boy back then. As the old Tarryton cigarette commercial used to say, "I'd rather fight then switch." Well I was more of a switcher.
I'd gotten fired from my job at Finast. I had the nerve to post a note near the schedule on a day I was working alone that I'd walk out if I had to work alone again. My immediate boss, a man who should of been a better, more mature person then I, wrote under it 'and keep walking' . Cooler heads, the store manager, talked to me and made me understand that they had a budget and had to cut hours during this time. I understood and went back to work. A few weeks later a TV program came on and it was on over several nights. This was the age before even VCR's were out. If You missed an episode, you were lost. There were no repeats, no internet, no way to view it later. I would miss an episode because I worked.I talked to the Store Manager and asked if I could go home early, he said "If I finished my work early I could leave early." I worked hard to get all my work done early.I made one mistake. I left some stock in an isle and my immediate boss took it as a sign I'd walked out and fired me. A few weeks later, I think he'd left too, maybe fired? That was spring of 1978, I think.
At a New Years Eve party in 1978, I met my first long term girlfriend. We met at her Cousins party. I think I asked her to dance and then We went for a walk, then I asked her if she'd like to go out with me. To my great surprise, She said yes.
She went to Ramapo School District when it was a top flight academic district. She had plans to become a lawyer. Life unfortunately had other plans and the last I heard about her was she was working in Philadelphia.
Life for me at this point was pretty good, it was 1979,
I went to college, worked for my father and met with my girlfriend as often as I could. After School, at night sometimes and weekends. I even went to the shore with them. A strange thing happened there and for many years I didn't really understand what it was.
My Girlfriend's parents and brother were going out some where and my girlfriend and I were to be left alone in the Hotel room for a while.I was on a pullout bed in the front room of a two bedroom hotel room. Next to me, I think was my girlfriend. It is a little hazy after all of these years, but I do remember her mother getting up set and yelling that she didn't like to leave her daughter in the hotel room with me alone. At that time I didn't understand. The two of us had ample opportunity to be alone and why was this so much different? It got to the point that I became so uncomfortable that I left the room and ended up several floors below the room in the stairway, not sure what my next move would be. My Girlfriend's brother came and got me. Of all the people in the room at the time, her father was the cool headed one. He, I thought would of been the one to go off the deep end protecting his daughter. He turned out to be the peace maker. He calmed his wife down and they left. My Girlfriend, very pissed off at what had happened laid down next to me. When I commented it might set her mother off when they came back, She tersely replied, " I don't care" I left it alone.
In the early 80's , things kind of went off the rails. My Girlfriend was a happy person when I first met her. She invited me over when her cousins came over and during the whole night she just laughed and laughed over stories swapped between her and her cousins. This is the person I like to remember her as. Not the person she became. The obsessive compulsive person that ended up needing to be institutionalize for a while. During this time instead of drifting away from her I became closer to her then was healthy. The relationship had turned toward a bad place ans it was sucking us both into it. The one good thing to come out of this period was I got myself into therapy. I am not a joiner and during the twelve or so years I was there and all the requests from my therapist to join this group or that one I never did, I couldn't, I wouldn't, I had no desire to. How I got into therapy I'll never know. Therapy for me was one of the best things that I ever did for myself. During the time there I went from the deepest darkest places and moods, one where I felt that if I were to touch my guns I owned I might use one on myself. It also bought me peace of mind as I finally worked my way through all the damage and debris of being the grandson of alcoholics. I know it sounds weird, but my grandparents actions had effects on me even though I never met them. The way they treated their children as they say, 'Sh**it flows down hill' and it rarely becomes less of a flow. During this dark time of my life I worked for my father and went to school. I would go part time at night and work during the day, mostly. My relationship with my first girlfriend had gone south during the first few years of the 80's, and that pushed me into therapy. I always see God's hand in things like this. I was a damaged person and I got involved with a damaged person and it help me to heal and send my life in a new direction. I hope it helped her. I can't over stress that I am not a joiner and for me to have taken this step still amazes me all these years later. My therapist, Barbara, is about the same age as my mom. I started going to her sometime in the early 80's, maybe about 83 or so and I finished going to her on 9/19/99, I think.
During my time there the topics covered were vast. I talked to her about the death of my father in 89, My on again off again relationship with my girlfriend and then my having lunch with my girlfriends mother for the longest time and the last lunch I had with her when I finally said to myself that this has to stop, it's not healthy, and it wasn't. I talked about my father's cancer and his death thirteen months later. I talked about sex and all the head games that go along with it. There was nothing that wasn't talked about. There was this one time I started to memorize this poem by Robert Frost. I forgot the title, but it's about a traveler on horse back that stops in front of these woods while it is snowing. I thought it was a peaceful poem, she thought it was a poem about suicide.
If not for the job with my father, I don't think I would of been able to hold a job for a good part of this period. In the darkest of times I'd come home after work, go to my room at my parents house and go to sleep, get up for dinner, then go back to sleep around ten or eleven. After my Dad died,the same thing started to happen again. I'd stop during a delivery, sit down in the chair of my Divco and fall asleep. Barbara said it was my escape, and I guess it was.
I married my wife in 1995, while still a milk man. The Business had vastly increased from it's lows around 1990-91. I'd been lucky and I'd taken advantage of some breaks thrown my way by fate (God?). Some others I side stepped and was later sorry I did. As the 20th Century was coming to a close I could see the economy was heading for a dip and I knew business would suffer. I didn't think I could deal with it again. I was delivering Valley Cottage Deli on Lake Road and Kings Highway, it was a stop fist done by my father in the 60's and I could remember doing it with him back then. Across the street had been a Pharmacy where I'd gotten a Superman model , opened it up before I got home despite my fathers warnings I'd lose some of it.
While delivering the stop a salesman named Joe Castle came up to me and introduced himself saying he worked for Consolidated Dairies and if I were ever interested in selling my business I should call this number. I took the card and gave a skeptical Thank You. How could I ever sell my company after what I'd been through. It was my Dad's company...and it drove him away from his family and...maybe...helped put him in an early grave...and I'd known for years that a company my size was a dinosaur and it was only a matter of time before a bigger company took me out or I'd get into a war with a big company and they'd make me lower my prices or lose stops. Maybe it was time? The only way I was ever able to sell it was the help and support my wife Teri gave me. I was able to take it one step at a time.I called Joe Castle at Consolidated Dairies and got his voice mail. I left a message and no one got back to me. I don't remember how many times I called, but eventually I got to talk to Johnny Gottberg. He was the head of sales at the Dairy and arrangements were made for me to come in and talk to them about selling my business to them. I don't remember when a job offer was made, but it seemed like it was something that was always on the table for me to accept. I went down to Union New Jersey for a meeting about 4pm. I'd stopped my route in the middle of the afternoon. I drove my Mustang, which at that time was only a little over a year old and lots of fun down the Garden State Parkway to exit 142. I'd not had a chance to change my clothes, but it didn't matter at this place. It was a relaxed atmosphere to work in. I would later find out that everyone was always positive, helpful and reassuring there. I met and talked with George Gottberg, the president of the company and I think Johnny. The interview lasted less then an hour. The offer for a job was extended and I was told to have my accountant figure out a dollar amount for the business and a day would be planned for the hand over. It was the beginning of February 2000. In a matter of two weeks or less Muller Dairy of RC would be sold and I'd become a salesman. I never told Crowley that I was leaving them and it was the wrong thing to do in some respects, but it was the safe play to make. Crowley had always told me that my business was worthless. If some bigger company wanted to take it they could. Why bother buying what you could take. When George made an official offer to buy my business and he said to come up with a value. I was floored. I didn't have a value for something that had no value. So I went to my Accountant and he came up with the astonishing amount of $40,000.00. I thought it was way too high, but I figured it was better to come in high and negotiate down, then to go with a more reasonable offer and go down. I gave George the amount and told him that was what the Accountant said was the value. He agreed with the amount and said he would take my receivables and pay off my milk bill too. It was an offer too good to be true.
Now You may ask where the money all went to. The funny thing is I know exactly were it all went to. As it happens around this time, my mom had decided to sell the farm and Eric had offered to buy it. My cut from the sale was I believe about $10,000.00. The Farm had become a point of contention among the family after my father's death and my mother stepped away from having anything to do with it. Karl had complained loudly about wanting a fair share of the property and was given a portion of it, up on the hill behind where the barn had been. Ruth had given her share to me, Eric and I had tried to make a go of it and all was OK until I 'd changed my mind about something he'd wanted to do. At that point our mother had taken the farm back. Karl kept his property and built a house. Eric was offered the property first, because he had the money. I was given a share of the sale, which I gave to my mother to make up for part of the $40,000.00 She had invested in Muller Dairy of RC during the bad times. When the sale of the Dairy went through I also split that with her making up the majority of the money she had invested in the business. I took the remaining money and invested it in the stock market. It was the beginning of a down period in the markets, so I managed to take that $20,000.00 plus some money I added and I parlayed that into a nice little nest of $16,000.00, yes I lost money. When Teri and I moved to Congers I took the remains of the money and put it towards the purchase of the House.
The Shift from being an Owner to becoming a Salesmen was not hard. In my interview I was told by George that I would work less and make more. He talked like he knew what I was going through and I didn't believe him. As the months and years would pass and I heard about how they grew their business and the good heartedness of the whole family, I became a believer in doing it their way.
Each brother was so different from the other, almost like they were born somewhere else and hadn't lived together. George the oldest ran the business, Johnny, I think the second born was head of sales and Michael, the youngest ran the drivers.A long time friend Ronnie Smith had no title and was in sales, but by his personality people would naturally gravitate toward him. He smoked and drank too much. He gambled in Atlantic City too often, but as a human being, he was the person I'd find myself going to for all of my issues. He would die a young man in his 60's.
The first step after it was official that I'd sold the Dairy was to tell the customers. 99% would stay. A few would change ownership and some of those I'd lose, but most stayed. I would start my days, in the beginning delivering milk in a truck, with a guy named Joe Salty. He was too old to be doing stuff like this and I wanted to get off the truck. After a while I asked George when I could get off the truck. He said as soon as I started integrating my stops into other routes. I went to town on that and I believe a week later, I was off the truck. My first week off the truck, dressed in nice pants and an uncomfortable shirt that tugged at all the places that I was not used to and would soon be replaced by a polo shirt and jeans, I went around to talk to my customers and introduce myself to all of my new ones.
Things got into a quiet routine. I'd start my day visiting my mother and sometime around ten in the morning I'd go do my job. I'd stop for lunch around 1 pm or so and usually quit about 4 pm or so so I'd be home to cook dinner for my wife. I wasn't working hard at all, but my bosses were happy, my customers were happy and I was adding on business, I still had the touch that had helped me rebuild Muller Dairies of RC from a struggling operation of around $2,000.00 to at the time of sale, checks were being written for over $6,000.00. Life was good, then the economy went south and the owner of Consolidated bought in a management team.
The Management team was a group of people who had many years experience in the milk business. They took over all the key positions in the company. I was told by Johnny Gottberg to keep my head down and just do my job, I'd be fine. I did and a few weeks later I was fired in the first round of cost cutting. To this day it still hurts to think about it. I didn't work as hard as I could of, but my results were good. I was, in my estimation the third best sales men there. I was also making good money after an incentive plan had been put in place. The People above me, Johnny Gottberg and Ronnie Smith were salesmen who'd been with the company since its start or very near to it. I knew they would not be let go. Everyone else was possible.
I was let go at the beginning of March 2005. I'd spent five years and two weeks working for one of the most fun and positive companies you could ever want to work for. It was a crime it had to end.
I was now unemployed for the first time in my life. I'd worked for my Dad as a kid, worked for Finast supermarket, owned my own business, a video store and a milk business and finally I worked for Consolidated Dairies. I promised myself during unemployment I'd get up the same time as usual. Do everything as if I was going to work. Eventually I did get side tracked. After Teri went to work, I went to my Mother's house and usually didn't leave until around noon. I'd promised myself I would start to write. After leaving my mom's I'd head home, grab lunch and go up stairs to write on the computer. I had this wonderful story idea about this group of kids who go to this other place through some mysterious way. The House would be transported there ala The Wizard of Oz, but the sleeping parents would not make it there. Only the two brothers and their two friends how'd stayed inside this strange light that seemed to shine only in part of the house. This World would be a fantasy world of Adventure. The House would land in a desert. They'd trek to the local town. There'd be many veiled drug references, there would be a mighty evil that needed to be vanquished, one of the group would get taken by the evil, a loyal servant who'd help them defeat the evil, knowing that the evil was just protecting there world from the intruders who were slowly destroying it.
'At the ends of the world there are cracks in the sky and land. Existence ceases after that'.
It was going to be a trilogy. By the third book the lost friend, the younger brother of one would be the force they are fighting. His brother having stayed to continue the fight and find his brother, the others leaving growing older in the real world and are called back by there friend.
Maybe one day I'll write it. No pages of it survive I'm sad to say.
I sent out resumes to all locations that advertised for help. I got the occasional interview. One interview for a food company in Edison NJ looked good and I had hoes of a job, they never called. An other interview was to take place at a diner. I thought it was for the next day when I got a call asking me if I was coming to the interview. I had been working in the attic and was covered with dirt. I thought it was important to get there as soon as possible and went as is. I explained that I thought the interview was for tomorrow and I had been working on my house. Needless to say I didn't get the job.
At the end of August I sent a resume and cover letter to Marcus Dairy. Teri had seen an advertisement in the paper for the job. I went to Danbury in my Mustang. Before I left I vacuumed the car and got it washed. I felt it would make me feel better about going, it did.
I met Tom at the Dairy. He was a friendly person and asked if I would like to have lunch while we talked about the job. He also asked if we could go in my car. He said his was not available. He wanted to see what me car looked like. Tom is a man of long legs and someone not used to getting in a Mustang it was a chore. I left the top up on a beautiful summer day. We had lunch, talked about the job and afterwards he showed me around the Dairy. They had just shut down the bottling room and switched to getting milk from Garalick Farms. It was a mistake that would contribute to a long slow downward spiral that would put them out of business within twelve years.
I was offered a job for the start of August. The pay was down from the $75,000 I made at Consolidated, but Tom said I could quickly make it back. I never did. I got maybe two raises in the time I was there. I took over the routes of Gary Fitchett. He was very good at what he did. He started his day at 6am and didn't end it until he left the office in Danbury sometime around 6-7pm. I had not interest in working that many hours a day.
The Problem at Marcus Dairy, I soon found out was they had delivered to just about every account in the state of Connecticut and the ones they didn't have wanted nothing to do with them because of their price games they always played. The first few months there I tried to keep the prices down to what I thought was reasonable, but Tom would yell and tell me I'm taking away his margin. He was a bully. I don't think Tom thought it was better to have a customer and make a little then have no customer and make nothing. Maybe Marcus' cost of doing business was too high and they had to have, what I thought were huge profit margins. High prices and the resulting loss of business was a theme of the seven years I was there. Marcus would raise their prices to stops regardless of volume and profit. In the beginning I would put in price reductions and Tom would yell. He would yell like it was my fault that the price of milk into a stop would not be accepted by the stop. When I tried to concentrate on relationship with customers to make price increases easier to accept, he complained about me spending my days being a social director. When a Customer would finally look at their prices and see that they were out of this world because I was tired of being yelled at, they would leave. I lived in an almost constant state of fear of losing a customer. By the end in 2012, I would get in my car on a Friday, start my forty-five minute drive home, about half way I'd take a deep breath and let it out. It would feel as if I'd been holding that breath for a week. I'd relax finally. Some time on Saturday or Sunday, if I was lucky I'd remember I had work on Monday and become sullen and quiet, I'd put on my frown. Teri would notice and ask what happened? most of the time I told her it was nothing. She had her own issues at work and I didn't feel like sharing mine.
By the end of my time at Marcus I felt if I stayed much longer, I'd have a heart attack like another salesman. During my time at Marcus Teri often would comment about my having a fish face on. Tom had taken my smile away from me. In pictures during 2010-12, I couldn't smile, I'd forgotten how.
I don't remember the final straw that made me leave and I'm not a person who likes change, so I don't do it often. I do remember I'd done something big in December. I remember I was in his office and he was calling me Joey. It was a more familiar way of addressing me. I felt honored, special. By January, I was back to Joe and I started listening to see if there was any anger in his voice. I continued to work the same way as I always did. The Anger started near the end of January. It got worse in February. It got to the point that when we went to a bid together and had lunch together, I couldn't eat, I was as tight as a drum and thoroughly disgusted.
Over the years, Consolidated Dairies had called me or I called them and George and I had talked about me working for Consolidated again. When He called, I'd feel I couldn't leave for one reason or an other. When I called out of desperation and all lose of hope at being able to continue working for Tom, he had no openings. Around March 2012, George called to offer me a job. Things at Marcus had dropped like a rock since December. I needed to get out. At every meeting I had with Tom at the end of the day he was very unhappy with everything I did. I had also lost the touch. I couldn't land an account if they threw themselves in my lap and said I'm yours. I don't know what happened. I needed a change of scenery. When George called he said I could meet with Jordan and Randy, have dinner together. The first time I went to work for George, he kept saying he wanted to take me out to dinner and I never made an effort to go and it never happened. This time I figured, why not. So Jordan and Randy took me out to dinner at a place on Route 17. We had a nice dinner and talked. The Job was officially offered and I accepted it. Now I had to tell Tom. Leaving a Job is like breaking up with a girlfriend. Jeannie, was the first girl I ever broke up with. I did a real lousy job of it. I left a note in her car with her apartment key. It was the worst. I didn't break up with girls, I didn't know how and I took the cowards way out. This break up was going to be better. I went into work the next night and did my usual work. When it came time for me to go in and talk with Tom my heart was pounding. These meetings were usually stressful to begin with, I'd had a ton more of it now. I sat down in a chair across from him at his desk and leaned back, as I always did. I don't remember if I got right into it or waited a few moments. I did tell him straight out I was leaving and handed him a note saying the same. He was gracious and for the next two weeks he was very nice and if he had been this way all the time I would of never left and I still would of worked just as hard as I did.
At the end of two weeks I went to work for Consolidated in my old territory, Northern New Jersey, Westchester, Rockland and Orange. I still couldn't seem to land any accounts. Had the business changed and I didn't notice it? Had an honest deal stopped having meaning? Loyalty and service had been devalued in recent years and I knew that. Salesmen came into all stops and offered outrageous
prices to entice you to switch and their companies would raise them up, some the new day, most the start of the next month. I tried to speak the truth over the years, but a salesman's job is to lie and beg to get business, at least in the milk business. It is a very dysfunctional environment.
I started in April 2013 again at Consolidated Dairies. I did land a few good accounts. The one I was most proud of was a grocery store in Spring Valley. I went the full nine yards on this account. If they called and said they forgot to order milk, I bought it to them. At Christmas, the person who ordered the milk hinted asking where his Christmas bottle was? So, knowing I might be setting myself up for future problems, I asked what he drank and went and purchased it out of my own pocket and gave it to him. I don't remember if that was a year before Consolidated went out of business. or just after it had and Cream-o-Land had taken over and it was a few weeks before they would fire me.
I was in my second time with Consolidated Dairies when a big distributor in the city, Beyer Farms went out of business. I remember, in my first time with Consolidated, just after We left Tuscan Dairy when the big distributor, who owned Tuscan decided to get out of retail Union operated business and dumped, gave everything to their distributors. Consolidated had been one, but we had moved from Tuscan in Union to Farmland in Wallington. In a conference room George had discussed the move with Tommy, Consolidated's financial guy. Beyer was to grow above and beyond everyone else in the city by taking on all this business. Others would get stops, but Beyer got the majority. They also got the Union and all of its financial headaches. This was around 2003. By 2013, unknown to everyone outside of Beyer farms ownership, they were out of terms on their contract. I don't know all the details, but Beyer got shut off by Tuscan (Garalick Farms also known as Dean Food). Four years later the law suits were still on going. The shut down of Beyer was the start of a milk war and the death of almost a dozen dairies. The price of milk in the metro area was already low due to excessive competition. Most everywhere else in America a few dairies controlled the market and their was a health profit for all. Not in New York, it was a blood sport. Over night, the wholesale price of milk dropped fifty cents a gallon. I didn't realize it at that moment,but Consolidated Dairies was in trouble. I worked the telephone picking up school district after school district. A bunch in Long Island and a few over in Jersey City. I was rolling. Before We delivered a single half pint, Cream-O-Land Dairy took it all away. They had superior contacts, I just talked with the people who did the ordering. I also picked up several Nursing Homes in Upper Manhattan. One spent four thousand dollars a week on milk, another did three thousand. I kept them two days. My Prices was cheaper then Cream-O-Land's when they took them from us, again with superior contacts.
By September 2013, everyone knew We were in trouble. Randy Smith, Ronnies son who was head of sales left to go to Cream-O-Land. A few other people left and George had started to take a more active role in the company. We didn't know it, but it was already too late. We had also bought on Henry Beyer, the old owner of Beyer Farm. He would leave when management decided to get their milk from Dean Food. Dean Food had put Beyer out of business.Can't blame him.
Consolidated Dairies went out on a day in October 2013. Promises were made that the new company would take care of anyone who went with them.Big Bad Cream-O-Land was taking over Consolidated, Everyone who wanted a job had to sign a non compete, which stated you would not work for a competitor of Cream-O-Land for a year after leaving their employ. In the end they kept the few drivers who went with them and got rid or pushed everyone else out.
The first Red Flag after their take over should of been they didn't want all the business. I did find ways to bring on some business they didn't want and I figured I'd deal with them cutting loose these customers later. The Strange thing is they never cut these stops loose. It was me who got cut loose just after the new year in 2014.
That Day in January started out really good. I got a call from a former customer who was running the kitchen at a Nursing Home in Manhattan. I went in, gave him prices and he seemed really interested. As I walked to my car, my phone rings, it's my still brand new boss, whose name I have forgotten asking me when can I get to the office. I say, about an hour, I was 102 miles away.
On the trip down, I don't think I seriously entertained being fired. I got there, went to his office and I believe waited a while alone. When He came in it was with a few people and it went quick. Something like, "We're making changes in the company and we have to let you go." My Heart sank in my chest, just like the last time. I don't remember much about what we talked about, but I remember asking about if they were taking the car, I didn't want it. They were not. I then commented about them taking my job, but leaving me with a loan on a vehicle I didn't want. They said sorry, nothing they can do. I then asked for gas money to get home and was told to expense it with my last expense report. Then they took my phone and I left. It was over, how much over I didn't know at the time. It was the first week of January 2014.
I went home, told Teri and prepared to receive unemployment again while I looked for an other job. Some good jobs would come my way, but I would screw them up with suddenly poor interview skills or not have the skills that were needed. It was OK though, Teri still had her job......
In the spring I did collections for George up and down the state of New Jersey. I went into The Crystal Spoon in Elmsford to make a collection in late September. I go into the office of the Owner, Paul and he asks me if I would be interested in making sales calls. He would give me a price and I could keep anything over that. It sounded great, but it never went anywhere. Sometime in October 2014, he comments that his insurance meals guy is quitting and if I would like I could do that job as a bridge until the other thing gets going....
The Guy I was replacing, Henry had done his best to build something he knew nothing about. He made calls, talked to people and had set up the basics. One Saturday afternoon he came to the office and met me. He gave me a one hour primer on what he'd built. Later I would find out how bad his collections were and I would make an effort to recover as much as I could. There were some rough times ahead as I learned what I needed to do and how I needed to present the bills to insurance companies. Every time I asked for information I was told by the person on the other end of the line, "I can't tell you how to fill out your bills" It made no sense to me, unless they didn't want to pay the bills? I'd run with that thought for a while and over time I would learn for different people I'd talk to about how to fill out the forms and what to do when a claim was rejected. There was a point were I seemed unable to collect any money. We were owed something like fifty-thousand dollars. Paul felt it was time for him to get involved. Roger, the bookkeeper and him get on the phone with one of the companies representatives and begin to torture her. they ask her all these questions, that I knew the answer to and they made threats, that I knew she had no power to fix. It went on for a while and blessedly it finally stopped and they hung up having accomplished nothing except maybe torturing that representative into quitting. I have to admit I did yell and threaten people several time before, but I'd realized I was never going to get any higher then the reps supervisor.
I did get a break one day and I finally talked to a women, Evelyn from United Health Care who was willing to give me information on some of my problems. She was in Provider Services or maybe high, maybe even management.She went about explaining most of the ins and outs of her companies billing quirks. I would have to learn each companies little differences that they wanted.
Then one day suddenly all the money starts flowing in. In a little over a week about fifty-thousand comes in. Everyone is happy thinking that this is the way it will be for now on, it wasn't. We didn't have that much business. Eventually I'd figure it out mostly. Things like only billing from the first of the month to the last day were early revelations. Others, like putting the old invoice number in a certain spot on the adjusted claim would make it possible to get it straightened out and paid. The only thing was I was told by different people to put the numbers in two different spots. So I did the smart thing and put the invoice numbers in both spots.
Every time I think I knew it all, it change. Life what a bitch.
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