Air Possum

"I'm exhausted. We need to expand, take it to the next level. Plan on doing nothing next week but looking for a larger facility."

She pushed the glasses up on her nose.

"How big?" she asked, trying to keep the excitement out of her voice.

I had been going over figures and projections for a month.

"Big enough to hold a hundred machines, minimum. Plus room for you to add your jeans line. We may have to look at two buildings."

She jumped over the desk and hugged me, scattering paper every where. She never was the neatest person.

Gail had been grumbling because we had been tied up with the shirts and caps and hadn't had the time or the opportunity to develop the jean line. It was time.

We found a pretty nice facility at a reasonable rate. We had plans to bring in the new machines twenty five at a time and getting them up and running, projecting to be done in a year.

There was a smaller building nearby, walking distance. We leased it and Gail shopped overlock sewing machines. She planned to start with twenty and go from there.

The operation had gotten too big for us. We were working sixteen hour days and making mistakes.

We needed a plant manager, a production manager, an office manager, an HR department, a controller, an in house accountant so costs wouldn't get away from us. We ran ads in the paper and trade magazines.

Our original group heard about the expansion and got nervous. They liked the informal setting and didn't want to change.

I didn't either. I trusted them and wanted to use them as our experimental shop. We held a little meeting.

"First, we're not moving you. You might find yourself doing different things, but your jobs aren't in danger. I'll be in my home office half the time so you'll still see me. We need a manager and I'm pleased to announce Mrs. Mavis Turner will take over the day to day operation effective Monday."

There were actually some cheers and clapping. Mavis was a pretty sharp old girl, and she handled a lot of floor problems before they got to me or Gail. She was a natural leader.

It shook her at first that anyone would have that much confidence in her. She took a little convincing, but when I doubled her base pay she came on board.

I also gave them all a bonus check, two weeks pay, as a thank you.

Gail objected, saying I was babying them and giving them unreasonable expectations.

"I'm investing in the future. You can't put too high a price on loyalty. Of the original twelve, ten are still with us. One had to quit when her husband got sick and they moved, and the other just didn't work out. Every woman out there could unlock those doors, go to work alone, and still maintain her productivity. How many employers have that much trust in their people?"

"You reap what you sew, Gail. Get it? What you 'sew'? Well, I thought it was funny."

She hadn't smiled.

We finally got our branding break, from Mavis of all people. Her great nephew drove race cars, and had just moved from ARCA to the Busch series. It was kind of like going from single A to triple A in baseball, NASCAR being the majors. A lot of NASCAR drivers still ran in the Busch series.

It was unusual, there just wasn't that many black racers on the stock car circuit.

Mavis came to me all excited one day.

"Zachariah, Zachariah! My nephew is coming for a visit. Can I have Friday off?"

She had never asked for time off, so I had no problem.

"I might bring him by, the girls have never met a real live race car driver before."

My ears perked up. What's more associated with racing than rednecks? Nothing. I saw a golden opportunity.

"I tell you what Mavis, I'll give you the day off with pay if you'll bring him by at lunchtime. I'll spring for lunch for everybody if I can have a few minutes alone with him."

That suited her just fine. I went back into the office and did a search. An excellent driver with a good record, on and off the track. Married, he had one child. I was pleased to see his wife was a little on the plus size.

Mavis brought him in, bursting with pride. He was personable, had everyone smiling, posed for endless photos, laughed and joked while he ate lunch. He made a dozen dedicated fans that day.

I finally got him alone and into my office.

"How'd you get into racing?"

"My dad was a shadetree mechanic, ran the dirt tracks some as a driver. Pretty good, too, but he liked making them go fast more than driving them. I started out at ten, racing gocarts. When I was fifteen I was driving on the dirt tracks, little four cylinder cars. Not to brag, but I was good. Graduated to the ARCA series, then this season I'll be in the Busch series, running with the big dogs."

Impressive resume.

"How do you think you'll do?"

"If the sponsorship comes through I should do all right. We're operating on a shoestring right now."

I sat back and grinned.

"All right. Let's stop the dancing around. My company is in the same phase of life as you. Good, getting better, not quite there yet. Send me some figures, let me see how much it's going to cost us to paint a possum on your car. In the meantime, how about doing some ads for us? You and your wife. We'll pay you the going rate your popularity warrants as endorsers. If the sponsorship thing happens we'll work that into the contract. Think about it, talk to your people, and let me know. Regardless, good luck on your season."

................................................

I was in over my head and knew it. We had gotten too big, too fast. I dropped round to see my old professor, the one that started me on this path.

He was happy to see me, even had me come to one of his classes so he could tout me as one of his success stories. It was kind of embarrassing.

Later, over coffee, I hit him with why I came.

"Is it true you're retiring after this semester?"

"Yes, I'll miss it, but I put my time in. I'll take my retirement and look around, maybe do some consulting work."

I grinned at him.

"No you're won't. You'll be taking your new job as Vice President in Charge of Development at the Redneck Chic Clothing Company too seriously to look around for anything else."

He sat, coffee halfway to his lips, in shock.

"Are you serious?"

"You bet I am. I need help. With your contacts in the academic and business world, you're perfect for this job. I want you to put together a team, as soon as possible. We'll talk salary later, but I'm sure Gail and I can make it appropriate."

I had talked to Gail and she was on board with it. Then again, she was so consumed with the jean factory set up she would have agreed to just about anything.

We got lucky with a few employees. My oldest son had just gotten downsized, and he was an accountant by training. I offered him the job of controller. He jumped at the chance.

He soon arrived with his new bride, and she was four months pregnant. They hadn't told me. She needed a job, so I hired her as my personal assistant. I had leased a house for them, out of my personal accounts, as a signing bonus, for a year. I was hoping by then they would be ready to buy.

Gail brought a woman by to talk to me. It was her aunt, a very attractive woman, forty six but looking thirty six, long black hair, dark smoky eyes. She was tall at five seven, and you could tell she knew the way to the gym. The only way to describe her was 'tight'. Neat, professionally dressed, but it didn't hide her shape.

I realized Gail was still talking and tuned back in.

"...even though she is my aunt."

I just nodded and Gail smiled. Apparently I had just hired her as office manager.

"You won't be sorry," she said, shaking my hand. I sure hoped not. Even if she wasn't very competent, it would give me something nice to look at for a while. I know, sexist pig. Get over it.

I had to look at the resume she had shoved into my hand just before she left to get her name. Amaryllis, apparently her mother was a big flower fan. There was a note saying she preferred to be called Amy. And she was very skilled.

We got my youngest son to join us. He had a degree in materials management and warehousing. We hadn't needed a warehouse yet because as soon as the product was finished it was shipped, but knew bigger things were coming.

We held a meeting. Gail, Amy, Ralph[my old professor]Barry[our lawyer], Greg, my oldest son, and Jerry, my youngest. This was the team that was going to take us national. There was a lot of ground to cover and chain of command had to be established.

We decided I would be CEO, Gail would be Vice President in charge of the Jeans division. Ralph would be Managing Director of the Tee shirt plant among other things. Greg and Amy would head the office staff, and Jerry would look into streamlining our handling of materials and any warehouse issues we may have in the future. Debbie, Greg's wife, a pretty smart cookie in her own right, would assist me on my expansion projects. Salaries were hashed out.

Ralph, Gail, and I would get company cars and a few minor perks. There would be no ownership options, but there would be profit sharing. It was a bit rough, but I'm sure over the coming months we could tweak it.

Where was all this money coming from? We couldn't get the product out fast enough. Our first twenty five machines came on line and we were actually ahead of schedule, for about four days. We didn't have a plant manager yet, but I brought one of the women from the original group in to head the section. Betty wasn't Mavis, but she was fair and kept efficiency up. I gave her the same pay I gave Mavis.

Barry was after us to incorporate, and maybe go public in a few years. I wasn't keen on the idea.

One of the things I hated about our business was we didn't actually make the shirts. They were decent quality, but foreign made. Lately we had been having a little trouble out of the suppliers. Jerry came to see me.

"Pop, how do you feel about using foreign made shirts?"

"It sucks. But what can I do about it?"

His eyes were gleaming.

"You can make your own. There's empty factories all over the country, especially the South. There's still a lot of workers around with the necessary skills. They may a bit on the older side, but that could work for us. All kinds of government incentives to hire older workers. Think about it."

I did, for about thirty seconds.

"If I'm guessing right, you've got everything researched already. Get me a hard cost analysis and we'll put it to a vote."

We looked at the numbers. It would cost about seventy five cents more a shirt to make them. Gail said no immediately. Barry didn't think it was a good idea, but both sons and Amy thought it was worth looking into. Ralph was ambivalent, then decided we could work the 'made in America' angle and agreed.

Debbie had just had her child, my first granddaughter, a month before. She was destined to be the most beautiful girl on the planet. I had her picture on my desk.

It kept Debbie from making the trip, so I took Jerry and Amy. Gail didn't want to go, too busy.

I loved the area. Rural, but forty miles from the biggest city in the state. I was saddened by the rows of empty buildings, once bustling manufacturing centers.

The unemployment rate was staggering. The county, state, and federal governments were offering grants and incentives to lure us there. We had already visited two states and nothing appealed to me more than this area.

We found one midsized building that was perfect. It was a shirt factory back in the nineties, and some of the equipment was still in the building. It was outdated and would have to be replaced, but it spoke of the history.

We brought our findings back and Gail fought it tooth and nail.

"We need to concentrate on our core business. You know, our profits would almost double if we were to move the operation to China. Something we need to consider."

I was furious.

"It's not just about the money. This company will never move out of the country. It's a pride thing."

It steamed her, but I still owned sixty five per cent so there wasn't a lot she could do.

Jerry brought up another point I hadn't considered while I was having dinner with his family.

"You know, even though they'll be sewn here, the fabric will still come from China."

I hadn't thought of that.

"You wouldn't throw that tidbit out without an alternative. Spit it out."

He grinned.

"Got a cloth plant already lined up. The product will be one hundred per cent American. They'll have to add a hundred and twenty people over a year to meet our needs as we transition over, if we guarantee them a two year contract, renewable. It's forty miles from the sewing plant, so transport costs will be minimal.

One drawback, it'll add about fifty cents per shirt to manufacture. Can you absorb that and still make a profit?"

I had to think on it. Together with the sewing plant it raised the cost to a dollar twenty five more than buying the shirts flat out.

I talked to Ralph and Amy, they thought it was doable.

"We can raise the price if we have to, see if the market will bear it. You're pretty established now, and it will be a higher quality product."

Gail objected again. She was buying all her denim from Malaysia for a fraction of what it would cost domestically. Her projected profit margins were impressive.

We were starting to disagree on just about everything. I took a close look at her.

She was almost twenty four now. She wore designer fashions, expensive jewelry, used a high end stylist for her hair and makeup. She was pretty enough but didn't look anything like she used to. Looking closer, I was pretty sure she had gotten a boob job. Her company car was a Lexus.

By our in house estimates, she was worth about two million now. Money had definitely clouded her vision.

Since Debbie did a lot of errands for me, I had given her my company SUV and drove my truck to work. Ralph had chosen the same model SUV, saying we could get a better deal if we got two.

Amy called me. She had taken over Human Resources when the woman we hired originally got caught in a drug sting. She was my age, fifty three. We didn't see that coming.

Amy had the right training and degrees, so she was the logical choice. She had her hands full. Between the sewing plant, the jeans plant, and the monogramming operations we now had two hundred twenty five hourly workers, and forty salaried. Time to get a health plan.

She wanted me to come down to the sewing plant. She had been there six weeks staffing the plant and interviewing salaried personnel. The were set to produce their first shirts the next week. They were still only half staffed, but she was working on it as hard as she could.

I arrived on Friday, planning to spend the weekend reviewing progress with Amy and watching the operation Monday.

She picked me up at the airport, giving me a big hug and grinning like an idiot. Damn, she felt good. I sat and reflected as she drove.

It had been four years since Sherry and I had split, three years since we had started the company. I hadn't dated in almost two years, hadn't made love to a woman even longer. Just never seemed to have the time. I looked at Amy with appreciation. I needed to change that.

She caught me looking at her chest and grinned.

"What are you doing?"

I know I was flaming red. I decided to be honest.

"Enjoying the scenery."

She grinned wider and took a deep breath, straining the buttons on her blouse.

"Good. Some of us thought you might be gay."

"WHAT!?"

She was still laughing when we pulled into the parking lot. It was filled with cars, and tents had been set up across the grounds.

"What's going on?"

"You'll see. Come on."

She led me by the hand to the tent. I could see the grounds were covered with people of all ages, kids running everywhere, cookers going in the back. I guessed now why she scheduled a midafternoon flight for me. Picking up a microphone, she called for their attention.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, gather round. Welcome to the first annual company picnic. Now, I want you to meet the man responsible for this get together. Everyone, this is Zach Bivens, founder and CEO of the Redneck Chic Clothing Company, your boss."

I looked around and saw my sons and family, Ralph, Barry, everyone but Gail. Everyone was clapping. I was humbled.

I didn't make a speech. Instead, I made it a point to speak to each and every employee and their families, thanking them for coming to work for us.

There was a little ceremony when the oldest lady we hired, a 67 year old grandmother of nine, presented me with the shirt she had sewn, the very first shirt to come off the line. I took it home, had Mavis monogram it for me, framed it, and hung on my office wall.

Our company was growing leaps and bounds. Greg made sure of our cash flow and debt load, and we were very comfortable. Mavis and the girls were working on some designs for new product. We were introducing collared shirts, an upgrade from the tees. They even had a new logo, the same possum, but larger, with a tail that came halfway down the shirt. Dubbed the 'long tail' line, it showed great promise. We were also looking at offering jackets with an even larger logo.

Mavis, just for fun, sewed a stuffed toy possum, wings and all, for her three year old granddaughter. I saw it one Friday afternoon, when I had reached my stress limit and had decided to take half a day off, rare for me.

I always stopped to say hi to the girls, and saw the toy lying on her desk. She grumbled because she didn't get to actually sew much anymore, but took great pride in her job. She had turned sixty five the month before and I asked when she planned on retiring.

"When you run me out of here. I'm happier right now than I've ever been in my life. I'll always be grateful for the chance you've given me."

She hugged me, hard. The emotion almost overwhelmed me.

"Well, if that's the case, you'll probably outlast me."

I was enthralled at the stuffed doll. I had Mavis make one for my new granddaughter. It was to become her favorite toy, she slept with it until she was five, and then retired it to a shelf and refused to get rid of it.

She made one for me that I kept on my desk at work. I looked at it off and on for about a year before the idea that nibbled around my consciousness gelled. You couldn't find a company that made stuffed animals in the U.S. any more, they were mostly Chinese and Malaysian made.

I put Jerry on it. A month later he came back with a plan. There was a small building near the shirt factory, and he had lined up the specialized equipment, used, at a good price. I told him to run with it. It took five months to set the place up. It only had fourteen employees to start.

The old machines weren't very fast but made a high quality product.

Gail had a fit, thinking it was a waste of money. The jeans had taken off, and she was producing at capacity on two shifts, adding equipment and sewers until she didn't have any more room in her building.

To keep peace, I had Barry set it up where the stuffed animal plant was completely autonomous, owned solely by me and manufacturing under the license of Redneck Chic. That seemed to placate her. Since Mavis designed the stuffed animal, I gave her twenty five cents for every toy sold. The quarterly checks were almost as much as her salary.

I hardly saw Gail now except for staff meetings. She had her office at the jean plant and spent most of her time there. Greg told me she had a new boyfriend, and it looked serious. He didn't think much of him.

...............................................

We worked out a deal with Will Turner and his wife to do some endorsements for us. His racing career was doing well and he had won two races so far.

I really liked his wife. Open, friendly, she was a bit reluctant at first.