Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 90098 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 450(@200wpm)___ 360(@250wpm)___ 300(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90098 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 450(@200wpm)___ 360(@250wpm)___ 300(@300wpm)
As much as it made me feel like a sellout, I’d made the decision that we should cater more to tourists. My old man had been set in his ways, preferring to focus on old-timers like Jerry and Malcolm, who came in most days to waste their pensions at the bar.
The place was a little less Irish than it’d been before the winter, but not a lot.
“Did I do the right thing with the changes?” I asked.
Adam glanced around the place, nodding slowly. We had a main dining area, where every booth had its own flat-screen. Then three smaller areas. We had the Wrigley on the other side of the tiny arcade, where we hosted bachelor parties, elaborate game nights for big corporations, and family reunions. Then the Junior Circuit, a semi-open space suited for children’s parties and families. Lastly, the Green. It was dedicated to sports my old man had never cared for, such as golf, figure skating, swimming, tennis, and soccer.
It was also where we hosted our soup kitchen on Thursdays and Sundays.
“Honestly…?” Adam turned back to me. “I don’t think you had a choice, Trace. It was adapt or die.”
I sighed. Yeah, that was the problem. He knew what the rent was too. He’d seen the stacks of bills. Especially now in the winter—fuck, utilities shot right up.
January had started off with a record-breaking snowstorm, and we hadn’t recovered yet.
“Personally, I thought it was hilarious to see my man with a paint roller,” Adam said, sliding off the stool again. “I’ll go change.”
I grinned. “At least he was great at the decorative shit.” More than great, I had to say. The man could draw like a professional—I mean, he was one—and he’d painted our city’s sports logos, street signs, and retired jersey numbers to blend in with all the other memorabilia.
I needed one more Petey and Adam on my staff. Petey’s experience and history with us allowed me to never worry about the kitchen. He ran a tight ship and treated his staff fairly but with no bullshit. Similar to Adam, though he was more of a big-brother type to the waitstaff. He was a couple years younger than me, cheerful, and encouraging. When he was in town during summers and winters, he was the top dog behind the bar. But it wasn’t enough. I needed someone permanent.
Petey would probably retire within the next five or six years, so I’d prefer to find a new Adam ASAP. That way, when it was time to find a new Petey, Adam 2.0 would already be part of the Clover family.
That was another thing I had to figure out. Dad had hired people who stayed on. They didn’t quit after six months. The exception was waitstaff, which consisted mainly of college students. But the rest, they wanted to stay. They were a little older too.
I should call Ma. She’d been very clear that just because she was retired didn’t mean she was going to stop doing the bookkeeping around here. She’d worked as an accountant for thirty years, and if anyone could help me find a balance between investing in the place and keeping the employees happy, it was her. We’d find the money somehow.
“What’re you grumbling about, man?” Adam strode past me with four beers as I checked the computer next to the register.
“Money. What else?” I closed the browser. This wasn’t the time or the place. I could continue my research on marketing tonight after we’d closed.
“What for?” Adam came back to return one of the card readers.
“Marketing and online bullshit,” I replied. “My sister says we gotta be on social media—but do you know what that costs?”
Dad had never bothered with online marketing whatsoever. He was old-school. Hell, he’d hired kids to hand out flyers up till a couple years ago.
“Lemme think about it,” Adam said. “We code monkeys tend to think we can fix everything.”
I laughed under my breath and grabbed an apron, and I tied it around my hips. I appreciated his offer, but he was swamped as it was. I wasn’t stupid either; he came in to work when he was in town more as a favor to me.
Before meeting his hubby, working here had been his day care, because my folks loved Bella. They’d let Adam bring her with him for a shift whenever, and they’d babysat her while he’d worked his ass off at several jobs.
In sunny California, he was a busy computer programmer. The last thing he needed was to stick his fingers in this fucking mess I was trying to run here.
I lost the next couple of hours behind the bar and out on the floor. Given the shitty weather, I’d only put three on the lunch shift to work the floor, and we managed if I helped out. Most of the lunch guests were middle-class suits, though some tourists had actually found us in the snow.