Old School Company

So Sears is bankrupt. I always liked their stores -- they had EVERYTHING. And for me, there's a very warm memory -- my Dad won a lottery promotion back in the 70s, for I think a few thousand dollars. The prize was credit at Sears. Two of the things we bought were a beige down coat for me, and one for him that looked just like it. We'd wear them together on cold days on LI -- I remember one in particular where we walked the Jones Beach Boardwalk, talking of future times.

I kept that down coat for many years -- I think I finally gave it to Goodwill just a few years back. So Sears to our family represented quality.

Today's Times has an article comparing Sears' generous benefits program to today's monster retailer, Amazon. Apparently many long time Sears employees retired with very generous profit sharing benefits. Amazon just cut off giving stock shares to employees. The article contrasted the philosophy of the old school company, which truly cared about employees, to Amazon, which cares only about shareholders.

When Paul and I started our firm, 24 years ago next month, we definitely believed in the old school approach. Our employees were paid above average, but as the firm did well, we generously bonused them -- according to our CPA, absurdly so given their lack of work product. But we believed it was the right thing to do -- we also set up nice pension plans for the full time employees.

Some years, our two lawyer firm paid the secretaries salary, bonuses, and pension contributions over $100K. I always was proud of that, and in fact, the secretaries left in good shape -- one used her savings to start a business with her husband, after losing a ton of money trying to flip real estate during Miami's turbulent aughts...

My sister of another mister, Mirta, always reminds me of how our generosity helped her -- she bought her beloved townhouse with generous bonus money we gave her one year. I feel good about that.

But I also learned that our longest, and highest paid employee, has said that she was paid "eh -- average."  This was laughable -- while she was good with clients, this secretary couldn't write a three sentence letter in decent English. But, to Paul and me, she was part of our team, and was to be compensated accordingly.

As the Who well sang...people forget. While we were paying the big money, we were princes. Years later, with that money long gone, we were, eh -- ok.

So I say -- bravo Amazon. I own a good deal of stock -- keep those share prices going up. Pay the employees decently, which they do, and give them health insurance, which they do. Let them buy their own stock, if they live frugally and save money.

Time really have changed. My father was a loyal and hardworking employee, and when he retired, after 17 years with his company, he received a lump sum profit sharing payout -- $200,000.00.  That would be about $730K today. Since bank savings rates were over 15% in the early 80s, that money lasted and lasted -- my Mom had money left when she went into the nursing home 34 years later.

My father was very grateful for what his company did for him -- he helped them do well, and they rewarded him when he retired.

But those days are long gone. We have to make things on our own, in this economy.

And, as I learned, employer generosity is probably unappreciated, anyway. So rock on, Amazon. You're soaring, and Sears is out. That's just the way it is...

The Finer Things

So yesterday my only plans were to watch the crappy Dolphins play, but my friend Kenny had a better offer: go with him and Joelle to see Seraphic Fire at the South Dade Cultural Center. I was in.

Kenny always had a taste for finer things. When we were in high school, we actually drove to NY Tech to see a Shakespeare play. He is a music fan, and has catholic tastes.

I had seen Seraphic Fire before. They're a nationally recognized choral group based here in Miami. We saw them at an old church on Coral Way, and liked them immensely.  So I drove to the theater next to the old Cutler Ridge Mall, and met my friends.

The group was appearing with the American Brass Quintet, and they were terrific, too. The concert was some very old songs, from the times of the Crusades, when pilgrims would go through Europe on their way to the Holy Land, and stop along the way at local churches, where these songs were performed.

Of course, as I am low brow, I kept thinking about a spoof of this music I heard years ago -- Gregorian chanting of "Hey hey we're the monks."  But as the concert played, I was truly transported by the beautiful harmonies.

There was some unintentional comic relief, too. One of the singers is an enormous black fellow. He looked like he had a VERY deep voice. But he was a soprano. He sang beautifully, too.

After the concert, we drove to Black Point Marina, which was buzzing with people. They had live music there, too, a guitar playing singer. His first song was the Dead's "Ripple," so we knew we'd like him. We did.

The heat is still here, but there was a lovely breeze blowing off the water. Kenny, Joelle, and I toasted how lucky we are with our 4 kids. Lately we've been hearing tales of misery. We got very lucky with the Ds and their 2 sons.

I came home, and took the crippled Spaniel and strange rescue dog outside. I drank some tea while the dogs sniffed around. I heard some scurrying -- we have a pair of large iguanas living on our property lately -- the dogs made sure the big lizards knew they were NOT welcome.

There was a 3/4 beautiful moon. I thanked the Big Man. It was a lovely night.

This am I spoke to the Ds -- D2 conferenced in D1 and we caught up. There'll be some chilly temps for our upcoming NY state weekend, and D1 is non too happy about it. I look forward to actually needing a sweater to wear for a change.

We joked that Wifey might not join us -- she is having too great a time with her "Gem Tones" friends. D1 calls them that -- apparently after a certain age, women look better wearing gem tones as clothing, and sure enough, the photos show them all in sapphire and ruby colors. Who knew?

I think Wifey will indeed come home, and it should be a lovely family weekend.

Maybe I'll play some Seraphic Fire...

Short Lived Charity

So I have an acquaintance who has worked for government agencies his whole career, but has made a LOT of money doing consulting work as a side hustle. I mean a lot. Plus, he married above himself, financially, and is about to inherit millions when his O to Q suegra dies.

What is O to Q? Years ago, my friend doing medical residency training taught me the terms. An O is an elderly patient, who lies back with a mouth open like an O. They have a few months to go. Nearer to the end, the tongue hangs out, making a Q. They're near goners...

Anyway, this acquaintance retired from his government job, and thought he'd receive disability right away. Due to clerical problems, he learned there would be a delay -- maybe a month or so between his salary ending, and his disability payments begin. Plus, he'd have to pay for his own health insurance for a month -- for him, his soon to be wealthy wife, and failure to launch son, who still lives at home with no real job at 26.

They moved to their $2M house upstate. Really. $2M. I figure a $2M house upstate is probably a $3.5M house here -- at least. So they're surely not poor.

The dude called me, and asked me to look over something he had written for him. I agreed. I was shocked.

He had put up a page on one of these internet charity sites -- Go Pay Me or something. He posted pictures and asked the general public to send him money because of the delay from his regular salary to disability status.

I should probably have said -- good luck, dude, but I'm too old for inauthenticity when someone asks my opinion. I told the fellow that if his clients learned he was begging for charity, it would be fatal to his consulting business. Who would ever retain someone, who is supposed to project strength and competence, if they were out publicly begging?

He started to argue with me -- his public persona had nothing to do with his private "struggles." I wouldn't engage -- I wished him well.

He called me later and thanked me -- he had taken down the page.

What awful karma. Charity is a sacred thing. We help each other in need. But when people of serious means beg, because they choose not to move assets around to pay for stuff -- well, that gets my gourd.

A few years ago, the kids of some other acqaintances put up one of these pages, to pay for medical treatments. I wanted to call the folks I knew to ask if this was some kind of joke, but they were off on a European cruise. Really? You're cruising the world and your kids are asking strangers for money?

I don't get it -- I really don't.

I feel so uncomfortable being the taker in life. I guess it came from my Dad's pride -- you need something, you do it yourself.

Living in a multi million house, awaiting an inheritance of millions, and asking strangers to give you thousands, because you're annoyed about a bureaucratic mixup?

I guess I AM getting crankier as I age, but this latest really got my goat. On the other hand, as I age, I tend to cynically think I've seen it all. When something like this happens, it teaches me I really haven't.

Bachelerhood Again

So yesterday Wifey left on another hen trip, as the Brits call them. I dropped her at MIA, and she was off for ATL, where Elizabeth would join her and Edna and 2 nights at Edna's house. From there, they head to Robbinsville, NC, and three nights at an Inn.

Jeff and I spoke -- he was off to his youngest girl's parents' weekend at Duke. Boy, he said , your wife sure takes a lot of trips without you. Yes, I agreed -- if you're married to me, you need to get away as often as possible.

I had a vigorous workout with Enrique -- I did something unknown since 1978 -- I ran a mile. It was on the treadmill, to cushion my aged knees, but I did it. I HATE running, and still do, but when I started working out, the thought of making a mile was akin to my dunking a basketball. The latter remains out of touch.

I headed to Canton for lunch, as I did when I was in law school. The owner and I chatted -- I've been a patron since they opened in 1979, and she said "Where's your wife?" Left me, I said, and she looked sad. But only for 6 days...and she laughed. "Oh, so you lucky, but not THAT lucky?"

As I was leaving, a SUV pulled into the lot and nearly hit me. It was intentional -- Mike's boy Chris was pulling in for a smoothie before a job interview at UM. That little boy is a 2L, and was wearing a tie -- looked all grown up. We lamented about the Canes, and I wished him luck.

I put in a few hours at the office, strategizing with Stu and Vince, and then left for my first bachelor night. Gentlemen bachelors with sisters often dine with them, and so I did -- met Mirta at Titanic. We caught up and ate -- it was a lively atmosphere, as always. She had a big weekend coming up -- headed to her boyfriend's house in Daytona for BikeTober -- they love their motorcycles. And Sunday her granddaughter Karen, a lovely girl, turns 18. I gave Mirta some cash as a gift for her, and asked her to fake remove it from the girl's ear -- a trick I pulled when she was a girl. Mirta was touched.

The house is quiet, and the dogs are resting post breakfast. I'm going to bathe them -- it's been months, and they smell, as D2 once pointed out, like the schmutz you remove from a vacuum cleaner bin. Wifey no longer gets around to bathing them, so this bachelor will do the job.

I have a haircut at 11, lunch with my nephew of another mister Josh at noon, and then another office stint.

I think tomorrow I may treat myself and head to Deep South Dade to buy a few fish for my pond. Hurricane season seems to be over, and I know there'll likely be no power outages, which stops the aeration pump, and kills the fish. So the ones swimming newly in my pond for a year can use some new friends, I figure.

Yes -- being a bachelor for a week is lovely. I try to make the best of it.

The Little Girls

So back in the salad days of our law firm, from the mid 90s to the early aughts, we hired a squad of high school girls to help out in clerical tasks. The first was our secretary Norma's daughter Monica, who attended Braddock High in West Kendall, a school that was about 150% Latin.

Monica did some filing, but then asked if we could hire some of her friends, and we did -- Janet and Ellie were the two who worked the longest. We called them "the little girls," as in "Let's order out for lunch -- ask one of the little girls."

They were delightful young women. Monica also had a friend named Vivi, and another named Arlette.  But Janet and Ellie stayed the longest.

Ellie got a scholarship to UM, and we were very proud of her. Janet attended FIU. Both studied Education. Janet stayed with us, part time, all through graduate school. She married a Miami paramedic and had two sons. She is now a school psychologist for Miami Dade Schools.

I lost touch with Ellie, other than on FaceBook, and she rarely posts, but she called yesterday to refer a client. It wasn't a case for us, but it gave me the chance to call Ellie back, and catch up. It was a delightful conversation.

Ellie has been a school PRINCIPAL for 5 years! And, her oldest is a sophomore in college! How is this possible, I asked, when she shared this news -- Ellie is all of 17 herself.

The truth was, she had her son at 22. She's now 43, and has another boy just starting high school.

It was so wonderful to hear about Ellie's life. I last talked to her when we realized we had another connection -- she worked as a teacher at a school with Barry's sister Phyllis. But she told me she left the school 6 years before, and hasn't kept in contact with her old friends.

I know what a big job being a principal is. It's a lesser paid CEO. Ellie called me from Orlando -- she was attending a national teacher training seminar.

She excitedly asked me about MY little girls -- she remembers the Ds when they were in elementary school. She was shocked to learn that D1 is nearing 30, and is married and thinking about having kids, too.  She remembered adorable and mischievous D2 as well -- now living with her boyfriend in NYC.

Ellie said hearing about them made her feel old.  She also asked about Wifey -- she always liked and admired her, she said. Wifey worked with Ellie for several months -- getting us medical records and bills. I told her Wifey was well -- looking forward to being an abuela. Ellie laughed.

So if there's something better than hearing about lovely young folks evolving into accomplished adults -- well, I don't know what it is.

Today gave me that opportunity.

Deflated Hurricanes

Ah, our men in orange and green. My closest friends and I shared their triumphs, beginning in January of '84, and lasting until '02. They won 5 (should have been 6 but for a historically bad call) championships, and we cheered them on.

We watched through 2 coaches, Shannon and Golden, who we thought would bring the program back, and instead pushed further into mediocrity. And then, three years ago, came another return of the native -- Mark Richt -- and we KNEW he'd be the one, even though he always produced good, solid, but never great teams at Georgia. And, this, his third year, might be the one. We were pre season ranked in the Top 10, other than a tough opener, which we lost in Texas, we would be favored to win every regular season game in a weak schedule. We just might slip back into the elite.

Well, last night those hopes fell with a thud. We played a mediocre team, Virginia, and played terribly. Richt, who calls the plays, seemed clueless. We scored all of two field goals until a late TD, but a quarterback Richt had benched, and then brought back.

No -- our beloved Canes are nowhere near elite. Another second tier bowl awaits. National championships? No way.

And you know what? It's ok.

As I age, the important part of college football is the bonding with friends. Last night, Mike came over, with a new type of vodka he found at Total Wine. His boy Chris came, too -- a second year law student at UM. I made martinis, and Chris had never tried one. I served him one, and told him the story that his late grandfather Ed bought me my first martini -- at Fox's Lounge, in about 1985. It became my drink then, and still is.

Chris didn't like the taste -- he's more of a beer guy. And that was the importance of the evening -- three Canes, and three good friends, talking of times past and to be.

Chris's girlfriend Rachel joined us -- she's an Emory grad, and getting a MPH degree from UM -- set to graduate in May.

Wifey made an appearance, and ate one slice (ha!) of pizza from Big Cheese, a Canes hangout that used to be a funeral home, and still good fodder for the fact that the pizza dough chills where corpses used to. And then Wifey went back upstairs.

The Canes had a chance to come back, but blew it on two stupid penalties. It struck me how absurd it is to let one's good mood rely on the actions of 19 year old inner city kids, and their often less than gifted coaches.

So we lost, and Mike, Chris, and Rachel left. Wifey was falling asleep, and I told her we lost.

I had a restless night -- maybe pizza and vodka after 9 pm isn't a good sleep inducer for this late 50s guy. This am Wifey asked if I slept poorly because the Canes lost. No, I laughed, that wasn't it at all.

So the season continues -- the next game is away at Boston College on the Friday I'm taking my family to a resort in the Hudson River Valley. I'll check the score at the hotel.

No rings this year, and if I'm honest --not likely under Mark Richt. We'll have a solid, above average team -- like they had at Athens, Georgia.

Maybe in our lifetimes we'll get another truly great coach -- like Alabama's Saban, or Ohio State's Meyer -- and we'll rejoin the elites.

But regardless, the fun comes in the cameraderie.  Tailgates and game watching together -- fans over the generations -- that's what makes the times so special.

And if we get to play and beat the Gators in a bowl this year , well, that would be pretty awesome, too.

Fellow Exes

So we had some business with a lawyer I'll call Rey, since that's his name, and had a long talk with him the other afternoon. Rey is a fellow ex with Fredo, the former friend who left us and is engaged in attempting to screw us out of money.

I really, really, really (that's 3 reallys) should have talked to Rey before inviting Fredo into our operation. Rey's wife, who I'll call Kim, since that's her name, met Fredo on some Bar business, around the time Kim and Rey were forming their firm. They had heard that Fredo had a bad breakup from a former partner named Ted, but chalked it up to the usual drama surrounding law firm divorces. They invited Fredo in as a full partner.

Months passed. Fredo was always present and charming, but did little actual work. At six months, Rey's office manager urged Rey to fire Fredo. Rey protested -- poor guy's wife was dying -- give him more time. They did, and still no work.

At the year mark, the manager was adamant -- Fredo was taking salary and doing no work. He demanded Rey and Kim fire the bum. Fredo was near tears -- no, please, he pleaded -- let me stay until I find a new spot. Against his better sense, Rey agreed -- four months, but, of course, no more salary.

Fredo left in three, taking some cases which Rey agreed to be paid on later. And then -- Rey and Kim got SUED by Fredo. He came up with a bullshit case -- Rey and Kim MADE Fredo stay at the firm without paying him! Rey felt murderous, but listened to his mentor Arno, who advised to just let Fredo go -- Rey and Kim were too busy building up their firm. Fredo had sued as an offensive tactic to Rey would simply let him keep about $35K in fees. It worked.

I told Rey Fredo was a crappy fraudster -- he was broke ass -- owed on his mortgage, and Amex sued him for $85K. Rey said Fredo was dead to him. He saw him in a local restaurant, Captain's Tavern, and had to change seats -- lest the sight of Fredo cause him nausea.

Rey also spoke to Ted -- same story. Fredo screwed him, too.

So the lesson is, of course, to always vet business associates -- even though you think you know them. Rey and Kim were burned. Ted was burned. Curtis, the boss after Rey, was burned. So we're the latest victims of this POS.

His current boss, who I call Better Call Saul, since his firm apes that great, sleazy character, is next.

As John Lennon said when asked if he wanted revenge against the jerks who hurt him -- "Nah -- time wounds all heels."  And so it will be with Fredo...