RED TAG SALE
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FINISH THE INTERVIEW
Sierra Motors “One Low Price, Plain and Simple…ALWAYS !”
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I have been involved in dealership management for over twenty years. Interviews and hiring are one of the things that I do best. But hiring is not a science. I always try to hire for character first. I have been fooled more than once.
The shortest interview I ever did was with my friend Mitch. We were in many of the same classrooms from kindergarten thru high school. We played sports together. We grew up in the same neighborhood, a few streets apart. Mitch walked into the dealership and told me that he wanted to try selling cars. Without hesitation I said yes. He was Salesman of the Year his first year in the business. I guess that I was right on that one.
We needed two lot porters to wash cars. It was a full time job that paid minimum wage. I interviewed fifty applicants in one day. The two guys that I hired, Mark and Hakeem were excellent employees. They both went on to good career jobs.
Hiring a good Team manager is a bit harder. The position is commonly called a closer. The best part of the job is when they get to go in after their salespeople and close deals. That only takes up 10% of their day. Most of the hours they are at work are spent doing a form of adult daycare. Handling the salespeople. They are always up to something.
After reading thru some applications, I called a couple of promising guys in for an interview. Adrian stood out on his application and from the moment he walked into the showroom.
My first impression was that this guy was way too slick. Adrian was a Black man about six feet tall. He looked quite muscular. He wore a designer suit that had been tailored to fit. The shoes looked like they were expensive Italian leather. The watch was a Movado with the diamond at 12 o’clock. He wore is hair in a mid length pony tail. His socks, his tie and his smile were impeccable.
Great eye contact and a firm handshake started the interview. Before I could get very far into asking questions, Adrian was trying to take over the interview. He started telling me how great he was. He was giving me examples of how he had overpowered customers and closed them. He explained how his Martial Arts training translated into being a kick ass leader. I basically stopped interviewing to see how long he might go on gushing about himself.
Everybody knows not to interrupt when I am interviewing. Into the office walks Jerry. He addresses Adrian, “Hey brother is that your Z out front?” I wonder where this is going. Adrian answers, “Yes.” “Sweet ride” and Jerry continues, “Is it the white one?” Adrian starts spewing performance numbers like horsepower and top speed. Jerry interrupts Adrian by saying, “There’s a tow truck taking it away.”
Adrian bolts from my office. I guess the interview has been interrupted. Jerry and I watch from the showroom window as the sharp dressed interviewee confronts the Repo Man. The Z car is already on the hook. Adrian starts yelling at the truck operator to put his car back down. The driver shows some paperwork to Adrian. We don’t think he is going to get his car back. The Repo man tries to walk past Adrian to get to the drivers door. Adrian blocks his path and pushes him back. This particular repo man is very experienced. He has his mace out in an instant. The repo man literally paints Adrian’s face with mace. Adrian steps back in obvious pain.
What we saw next looked like a scene from a Hollywood movie. In his expensive suit, blinded with Mace, wearing Italian Loafers, Adrian executes a flying kick that Jet Li would be more than proud of. It sends the repo man to the ground. Adrian moves in for the kill and suddenly realizes that he is in trouble. Suddenly Adrian turns and runs down the street. His little ponytail and those leather shoes were cutting out.
The tow truck driver got up off of the ground and dusted himself off. He pulled out his cell phone and called in to report an assault. With the shiny fast Z car in tow, he left. I quipped to Jerry, “I wonder if he is going to come back so we can finish the interview?”
EP
KINDERGARTEN
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I met Jeff Larson when I was three. He lived across the street and down four houses. When we met each other, we stood across the street and introduced ourselves. Jeff thought that I said my name was Harry. We were best friends for all of elementary school and walked together, to and from school most everyday.
My Mom took me to school the first day. I remember seeing the monkey bars for the first time. I was so excited that I took off running for them as soon as we set foot in the gate. I climbed up those two steps and grabbed a hold of the metal crossbars. Off I went. My grip wasn’t as good as I thought and slipped right off into the sand below. When I did a small patch of skin came off of the palm of my hand. It stung.
Quick, where’s Mom? I turned to where she had been standing. The gate was already closed. I could see her walking away. I was left to deal with the pain alone. I wasn’t sure that I was ready for this.
The only time that Jeff and I were in the same class was the first year. Our Kindergarten teacher was Mrs. Roselanski. She would divide unto groups and let us race to the fence. It was a red light, green light game. Jeff and I were both fast runners, or so it seemed at our advanced running age. One of us was always first to the fence.
School for us was a fenced in affair. There were only two gates. For someone to come thru the gate during class, they had to be special. Especially the person that brought the cartons of milk. Milk cost a nickel in those days. After a hard morning of playing with blocks and running, milk was just right. For some reason milk was served just before naptime.
Each of us had our own thing to sleep on. For some it was a throw rug or for others it was a towel. Everyone got his or her mat out at naptime. I don’t remember ever going to sleep, but a lot of kids did. A half-day that included naptime, that sounds like a good thing theses days.
I don’t know if I learned to socialize, but I knew not to hang out with kids that wet their pants like Frank Batchen. I liked running with Jeff and at 50 we are still friends. If that is all that I learned from kindergarten then I guess that is enough.
EP
KICKBALL AND THE UNFINISHED LUNCH
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I was standing behind the backstop. Mike was at the plate and I was up next. The score was tied and we had a guy on first. The pitcher rolled a baby bounce pitch to Mike. He kicked it deep, but Mark, a third grader, caught it on the fly. In elementary school, kickball games seemed very important. It was midway thru recess and we had a chance to pull ahead.
From across the grass I saw my teacher, Mrs. Purdy, heading straight for us. She had an unmistakably purposeful walk. It was obvious that somebody had violated a rule. I knew that she was headed for me. Women teachers in those days wore dresses. They all had their hair done in some sort of beehive style. The ones that wore glasses wore those horn rim style that made them look so intent. Mrs. Purdy was intent on making me understand the error of my ways.
I hadn’t finished my lunch that day. I am very sure that it was Deborah Sayles who told on me. Deborah had this disapproving look that she gave when she saw others breaking the rules. When I dumped my half eaten lunch in the trash, I knew that Deborah saw me. When she gave me that look, my lunch was already in the trash. Too late to change things. I wanted to go play.
I usually brought lunch from home. I had one of those cool lunch boxes. The metal one with the matching thermos. This was before zip lock Baggies. Mom mostly made my favorite, which was peanut butter and grape jelly. The day before I was goofing around with my best friend Jeff and had broken another thermos. So regardless of what the daily menu we had at home said, I had to buy lunch.
School lunch in the 1960’s was not fine dining. Hamburgers on Thursday and fish on Friday. Not really fish, but fish sticks, Usually with tater tots. There were also a lot of mystery items in our meals. The one thing that I could not stand was Brussels sprouts. It was the perfect trifecta of texture; smell and taste that made me gag. We had a strictest kind of teacher that made sure we finished our lunch every day.
I sat down and ate some of my lunch. I noticed that our teacher wasn’t at our table checking on us yet. I saw my opportunity and took it. Our teacher Mrs. Purdy was a few minutes late getting to the lunchroom. I didn’t understand why we had to eat everything. I guess that it had something to do with all of all of the starving children in China. I hurriedly went to the trash and dumped the vile sprouts and got out before our teacher saw me. But alas the good girls were watching. This is a problem that would plague me for most of my youth.
Mrs. Purdy took me off of the playground and straight to her classroom. She made me write an apology for wasting food. I also had to spend the next three lunch periods writing that I would not waste any of my food. Worst of all I had to check out with the lunchroom attendant everyday and show her that I had eaten all of my food. I asked my Mom to make my lunch every day from then on. Except on Thursdays of course. I liked hamburger day.
In Mrs. Purdy’s second grade class, I received the best grades of my entire school career. I had straight A’s and one C. The C was in citizenship. It is amazing how early in life patterns are set.
EP
A Message by George Carlin
Sierra Motors “One Low Price, Plain and Simple…ALWAYS !”
The paradox of our time in history is that we have taller buildings but shorter tempers, wider Freeways, but narrower viewpoints. We spend more, but have less, we buy more, but enjoy less. We have bigger houses and smaller families, more conveniences, but less time. We have more degrees but less sense, more knowledge, but less judgment, more experts, yet more problems, more medicine, but less wellness.
We drink too much, smoke too much, spend too recklessly, laugh too little, drive too fast, get too angry, stay up too late, get up too tired, read too little, watch TV too much, and pray too seldom.
We have multiplied our possessions, but reduced our values. We talk too much, love too seldom, and hate too often.
We’ve learned how to make a living, but not a life. We’ve added years to life not life to years. We’ve been all the way to the moon and back, but have trouble crossing the street to meet a new neighbor. We conquered outer space but not inner space. We’ve done larger things, but not better things.
We’ve cleaned up the air, but polluted the soul. We’ve conquered the atom, but not our prejudice. We write more, but learn less. We plan more, but accomplish less. We’ve learned to rush, but not to wait. We build more computers to hold more information, to produce more copies than ever, but we communicate less and less.
These are the times of fast foods and slow digestion, big men and small character, steep profits and shallow relationships. These are the days of two incomes but more divorce, fancier houses, but broken homes. These are days of quick trips, disposable diapers, throwaway morality, one night stands, overweight bodies, and pills that do everything from cheer, to quiet, to kill. It is a time when there is much in the showroom window and nothing in the stockroom. A time when technology can bring this letter to you, and a time when you can choose either to share this insight, or to just hit delete…
Remember; spend some time with your loved ones, because they are not going to be around forever.
Remember, say a kind word to someone who looks up to you in awe, because that little person soon will grow up and leave your side.
Remember, to give a warm hug to the one next to you, because that is the only treasure you can give with your heart and it doesn’t cost a cent.
Remember, to say, “I love you” to your partner and your loved ones, but most of all mean it. A kiss and an embrace will mend hurt when it comes from deep inside of you.
Remember to hold hands and cherish the moment for someday that person will not be there again.
Give time to love, give time to speak! And give time to share the precious thoughts in your mind.
AND ALWAYS REMEMBER:
Life is not measured by the number of breaths we take, but by the moments that take our breath away.
George Carlin
GIONELLI VINEYARDS
Sierra Motors “One Low Price, Plain and Simple…ALWAYS !”
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We went to the grand opening of Gianelli’s Vineyards new tasting room. To say that we were pleasantly surprised would be an understatement. My wife and I are veterans of many wine tastings. We are far from being experts, but we know what we like.
Gianelli’s is located at 18263 Main St. in downtown Jamestown, Ca. We found charming people in a lovely setting. We were offered samples of a variety of wines. Things went smoothly until the Cabernet Sauvigon was served.
Do you ever wonder what perfection might taste like? It has aromas of mint and dark chocolate that are married to toasty oak flavors. Quite simply the best Cab we have had the joy to experience. The dichotomy that we experienced next caught us by surprise.
Lorie Gianelli poured us a glass of 2007 Nino. This is a special blend dedicated to Ron’s father, Nino. This is a blend of Grenache 60%, Petite Sirah 20%, Dolcetto 17% And Sangiovese 3% all Gianelli Vineyards Estate grown. I thought that I tasted the apogee of generations of winemaking techniques and vineyard stewardship.
You need to decide on your own which is the best. I am saving a bottle of Nino for the soonest possible special occasion. I hope some friends hurry and visit us.
EP
2010 CAMARO
Sierra Motors “One Low Price, Plain and Simple…ALWAYS !”
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Sierra Motors does the impossible again. We have five (5) new 2010 Chevrolet Camaros available for September production. Drive the dream.
With design cues evocative of the legendary 1969 model, the 2010 Chevrolet Camaro combines the spirit of the classic American muscle car with the fuel efficiency, safety, handling, technology and build quality expected in a modern performance coupe.
The Camaro is available in three trims: LS, LT and SS. The LS and LT are powered by a 300-hp direct-injected 3.6-liter V6 with a six-speed manual or an optional six-speed automatic transmission. The SS’s 6.2-liter V8 generates 426 horsepower with the standard six-speed manual, and is available with the optional six-speed automatic with sequential shift control. Standard equipment on all Camaros includes independent rear suspension, StabiliTrak stability control with traction control, six airbags, air conditioning, On Star and XM satellite radio. The LT adds fog lights, 18-inch alloy wheels and power driver’s seat, while the SS features unique front fascia, sport suspension, Brembo brakes, limited slip differential and a rear spoiler. The available RS Package includes 20-inch aluminum wheels with performance tires, distinctive high-intensity headlights with a “halo ring” display, rear spoiler and unique tail lamps. Optional equipment includes Bluetooth wireless connectivity, power sunroof, performance tires, heated leather seats, Boston Acoustic sound system and a variety of exterior stripe packages.
For a low price and fast delivery contact:
Eric Prothro
209.984.5272
Mike Enzi
209.984.5272
KIM
My sister, Kim, ran away from home the day before she turned eighteen. That was April 19th, 1975. I was sixteen at the time. I watched her take out the screen from her bedroom window. Her friend Jamie had just pulled up in front of our house in her parents old 1964 Chrysler station wagon. Kim handed her clothes and a few personal belonging out the window to Jamie. She then crawled out the window into the front yard. She stopped and turned back to me and said, “Bye little brother.” All that I said was, “Goodbye Kim.”
She liked to call me little brother because she was only five foot one and I was already six foot two. I think that she knew that she could have legally just walked away the next day. That would not have been dramatic enough for her.
My sister was in her room because she was in trouble again. As she drove away I calmly walked into the house and informed my parents that she had left. They wanted to be alarmed but they really were not surprised. It was just a continuation of their disappointment. She has been on the run ever since.
Kim soon had two children. She amazingly had them both in the same year. Michael in January and Anthony in December. It was only a short time later that they both in the permanent custody of our parents Jim & Gerry. Kim and her husband Mike were unfit to be parents.
Kim had started her string of failed relationships. It seemed that every single one was worse than his predecessor. At one point Kim announced that she was getting married again. I reminded her that she had never got a divorce. She didn’t care. Right after they were married, the guy went to prison.
She somehow ended up with the ultimate Meth freak, Dave. They have lived in cars, under trees and anywhere they could find. I believe that they are doing repo work and being nighttime security for a used car lot in exchange for staying in an old trailer that is on the lot. Dave is basically a junkyard dog, with a drug habit.
Kim calls me every couple of years. Usually with some bizarre comments on what I should be doing for her. The conversations are terse. She always says that she is trying to get away and start over. I always end by telling her that I love her.
My wife and I have suffered the pain of loosing our precious Daughter. My parents suffer with having a lost daughter. It is a nightmare that has had no end. I asked my Dad if he ever stopped loving Kim. He responded without hesitation, “Never, not for a moment.” My Mom has never given up hope and prays for Kim daily.
In a selfish vein, I feel cheated that I don’t have a big sister. When my kids were growing up they asked why they never had an Aunt, even though they knew that I had a sister. I know that is nothing compared to what Kim has put herself thru. I know that she has suffered with drug addictions. Guys that I would not call men have abused Kim. She has done some of the most degrading things humanly possible to herself. She is missing a couple of toes from a self-inflicted shotgun wound. She has aged way beyond her years.
My mother longs for her daughter and has always tried to keep the lines of communication open. She has tried to take Kim in many times only to be repaid with theft and abuse. The daily sadness of Kim’s life wears constantly on both of my parents. They have endured thirty-four years of waiting for either a change or the ultimate bad news. It is never easy to talk about.
A guy named Les, which knew Kim when they were kids, contacted me today. He asked how she was and asked how to contact her. He told me that some of her old friends were interested in seeing if they could make a difference in her life. Les said that Kim might tell him to take a flying leap, but he and a few others were going to see if they could help.
God’s speed Les
EP
Gold of the Mother Lode
I also believe that we have not scratched the surface of how far this can take us as a group. There should come a time when every business that is on board has a placard in the window showing goldofthemotherlode.com. A billboard on Hwy 108 will be a logical step to follow. If the cost of the billboard is $6,000 per year, then with 100 participants the cost would only be $60.
Upon entering the area, visitors would be directed to check Gold of the Mother Lode to find everything that they might want, need or use. This is just a future idea. But the future is fast upon us.
Please spend time to improve your respective pages. Post often. Use videos. Have fun with it. Life is too short not to. See you soon.
Can you see the four circles?
SOCIAL STUDIES and FIGHTING
Sierra Motors “One Low Price, Plain and Simple…ALWAYS !”
I was suspended from high school my sophomore year for fighting. My son Ryan was also suspended from high school his sophomore year for fighting. I still carry some emotional baggage from that fight. My son does not.
I was in Mr. Buda’s social studies class. Mr. Buda was also one of the freshman football coaches. A lot of athletes took his classes. He did not run the tightest structured class. There was always a lot of milling around during the first ten minutes. The best thing about class was a cute student aide named Brenda. She was a junior.
As a high school athlete, I had weight training twice a day. I came to school early and went to zero period to lift before school. I was all into getting bigger and adding muscle mass. One of the things that were emphasized by our coaches was neck strength. We had an array of machines and the result was we had a bunch of thick-necked guys that were very durable. I think it also saved my life.
There was also a big kid named Dave in Mr. Buda’s class. I didn’t have much interaction with him, but we knew that we didn’t like each other. When Dave was around smaller kids, he was one of those tough guys.
It was my second class of the day. The first thing I noticed, besides seeing Brenda sitting on Mr. Buda’s desk, was that the Adventure Club had left their rafting equipment in this classroom. Stuff like deflated rafts, boat oars and life preservers. I walked to my desk and set my textbook and my PeeChee notebook down. Everybody used a PeeChee.
There was Dave in the back of the class picking on a smaller kid named Keith. I saw him push Keith and act like he was going to hit him. I walked up directly behind Dave and nailed him with a good kidney shot. Dave winced with pain. “You’re pretty tough with small guys,” I told Dave. “Want to see what happens with someone your own size?” I asked. Dave backed up fast with his hands up. I told Keith that if Dave messed with him any more to just tell me.
What I didn’t see was that Dave walked up to the front of the classroom and grabbed a boat oar. As I finished talking to Keith, I turned to walk back to my desk. Dave took a swing at my head with a full size, wooden boat oar. It skimmed across my shoulder and connected with the trapezes muscle at the base of the backside of my neck. The blow sent me over the top of my desk. As I was getting up, I could tell by the look in Dave’s eyes that he could not believe I was unhurt.
I turned and hit Dave with a solid right. Smack! I heard Mr. Buda say very loudly, “Take him outside.” So I did. I grabbed Dave by the collar and threw him out the door. I then hit Dave with a couple of solid shots. He was backing up as far and fast as he could, until he ran into a teacher’s car that was parked near by. I held Dave on the hood and jacked him a couple of times. I then hit him the hardest yet. I heard a loud crack. I thought that it was the sound of David’s jaw breaking. The teacher who owned the car came out of the next classroom. The teacher was upset that I had Dave on his hood. He yelled at us to get off of his car. Dave took advantage of the distraction and beat feet. I didn’t know that he could run so fast. All I saw was the sole of his shoes as he disappeared around the corner.
I went back into class. Upon my entry Mr. Buda told everyone to settle down. He also said, “Take your seat Eric.” That was all that he said. It was class as normal after that.
When the bell rang I picked up my Peechee and went to my next class. It was about twenty minutes into class when my Vice-Principle came to get me. He walked me up to his office, where Dave was already sitting. His face already had noticeable swelling, especially his jaw.
The V.P. asked what happened. I told my version. He then asked Dave. Dave told his side and emphasized the part about me hitting him first. Then the V.P. asked Dave what he was trying to do with the boat oar. Dave answered, “I was trying to take his head off!” At that moment I wanted to beat him again. While every bone in my body said go, I didn’t. I remember gripping my PeeChee folder to keep from moving. Maybe it was out of respect for my VP, maybe something else. To this very moment, I wish that I had hit him again. I am sure that if I ran into David today, I would have to whip his ass just on principal.
We were both suspended. While I was on suspension my Dad made me work at his business, for free. Once I was back at school, I am not saying that David hid every time he saw me, but I do not remember ever coming into contact with him again. And we were in the same school for almost three years.
A lot of things have changed in schools the last twenty-five years, but some things have not. I also think that most of today’s young teachers are an ill prepared lot. My son Ryan was in social studies with a teacher that did not have a very firm grip on the class The teacher had the class arranged so that students sat in groups of four, around a table. My son Ryan is a good-sized kid. The boy sitting across from him was substantially bigger.
Ryan told me that the big kid’s name was Todd. Ryan had never had any direct problems with him, but Todd ran his mouth a lot. Ryan and the boy next to him were working on a project. Ryan had a ruler in his hand. Todd decided that he needed to measure something and says “Gimme that”, as he reached across the table and grabbed the ruler.
Ryan has a very strong grip. Ryan held on firmly to the ruler. The rotund boy then told Ryan that he was going to kick his ass if he didn’t give him the ruler. Ryan and the stout boy both stood up, each holding onto the ruler. As Todd started telling Ryan what he was going to do, Ryan acted. He thru a hard right cross that landed square on his large round face. Big boy Todd let out a howl as blood started flowing freely from his nose.
The teacher did the only thing she could think of, she turned and grabbed the phone to call security. Even though Todd was holding his bloody nose, he was still running his mouth. He was walking towards the teacher, but he was telling Ryan that he was going to get him. Ryan went up to Todd and thru a hard right hand. He hit the big boy in the face while he had his hands cupped around his bloody nose. The force of the blow sprayed the blood in the boy’s hands onto the teacher. She screamed into the phone. The Sheriff Deputy on campus responded along with security.
The high school VP told me that the other boy was a problem at school and had started many such altercations. Ryan was only suspended because of the last punch. It was determined that Ryan had hit him while in a defenseless position. I asked Ryan why he hit him again. He said, “I knew that I was going to have to face him again if I didn’t finish it here.” “He was still threatening me, so I hit him again.” “I’m glad I did” Ryan later told me.
Ryan was right, in that, he never had any trouble with the big boy again. Ryan has had no regret over throwing the second punch. The funny thing is, I do, for not throwing mine.
EP
