Eight months in a nutshell: August 2013 sales were miserable. We should have closed. Since then I've gradually spruced the place up, buying nice covered display dishes, different sized carton boxes instead of just using plastic bags for wrapping, and adding cakes and new breads to our product line. In the Summer 2014 I bought a label printer, and a price scanner. In the Fall, 2013, there was a flurry of media attention, newspaper articles and TV news coverage. That brought an incredible spike in business, which has now settled down but left us with twice the sales over this time last year. A slow computer prompted me to backup important documents and reformat the hard drive. I forgot one critical desktop folder, which had all last years revenue and expenses, which records are now gone. New friends entered our life, and old ones left. I broke an arm, and during recovery learned that the shop ran tolerably well without me. Our plans for the immediate future include improving our digital presence. We have made one remodel, so that now we have two tables indoors which seat three people each, and a table outside which the smokers enjoy.
We closed our first fiscal year with a whimper. In fact, I laid off the workers for a week, without pay. Had I not gone on the trip to Sichuan, or joined a gym, I would have had enough to pay them. Selfish me.
Between February and May Peter twice threatened to quit, in February and again in April. I raised his pay beyond what I could afford, and promised him that if he stayed with us I'd increase his salary again in December 2013. Before this could happen, in July, Peter sent me a text message saying that his mother had 'given birth to a serious illness'. Or some such comical Chinglish.The point was, he would have to return to his hometown to help the family take care of her. He took us out for a final dinner, XiaoLan, Rachel and me. He was very sweet about it.
We survived the summer with a few volunteers, the most notable of whom was a tall serious student home from Nanjing, we called Xiao Zhu. He quickly mastered a number of recipes, and was very good at the cash register too.
In late September I found a new apprentice baker, but she had to give a month's notice before she could join us. She volunteered for a couple of weeks, in her spare time, but mostly we were on our own, Xiao Lan and me. There was a college student who helped us, actually working full-time on evenings and weekends around her college schedule (YiFei). By the time Jean (JiangNingNing) joined us full-time, we had already begun the cycle of media exposure. It was trial by fire for her. Our goods were flying off the shelf. Customers would sit around and wait a half hour until a new batch of scones or bread came out of the oven. Our shelves were bare, simply because the turnover was so fast. The gross revenue for November was over 30,000 rmb. I learned that this was the level we would need to sustain in order to cover all our expenses and break even. However, we could not sustain this level. Our December sales were much lower even than the previous year.
Jean had previously worked at a bakery chain called 85 Degrees. Her English fluency was not there, and so I had a hard time communicating with her. Rachel and XiaoLan did that. I was unclear about what she did at 85 degrees. Months later I concluded that she swept the floor there. She seemed to have no baking experience. Peter had also worked for that same chain, but he at least brought with him some knowledge of the equipment. Another thing they had in common was that they both were from XuZhou, a city in the north part of this province. Peter used to need time off to travel home to his family, but Jean is more rooted in Changzhou. She lives with her sister's family.
I was uncertain about Jean. Her temperament seemed fragile. I didn't think she would do well under pressure, or focus well enough to keep production high. I expressed doubts to XiaoLan and Rachel, that I'd like to keep looking at applicants. But they stood by her as our first choice. They were so very right!
Jean is a hard worker. She would prefer to be a pastry chef rather than a bread baker, but I choose not to focus on that end of the product spectrum. She has learned bread baking very well, putting out a consistent product.
It was around September that a German young man, Silvio Hoglinger, began hanging out at the bakery. I had met him before my bakery opened, at the new German restaurant three floors above my bakery. I barely noticed him at the time, because he spent his time in the kitchen, but his suave, handsome blue-eyed blond younger brother was waiting tables and handling the dining room, and it was he I connected with more often. Then the two of them moved to Suzhou, to start a sausage shop. Eventually they gave up on that, the younger brother returned to Germany to finish his studies, while the older brother came back here where their father is a manager in a German factory.
Silvio had discovered that in the basement parking garage below our bakery there was a strip of electric outlets for charging ebikes. While his ebike was recharging, he would hang out at the bakery. He struck me with an air of the lost Ugly Duckling. He doesn't have the good loocks of his brother, he butchers the English language, and has lots of stories of other restaurants he worked at in Changzhou. All negative, all about Chinese businessmen exploiting the foreign expert. He has a child-like sensibility in many ways, trusting, open, thoroughly likable yet slightly jaded.
In Germany his education entailed entering the vocational track in high school, where he entered into a culinary training program and came out very knowledgable about every aspect of the business. Cooking, baking, managing, he is well grounded in all areas.
He decided to open a small bistro. It took months to materialize, finally opening in November, and during that time he hung out more and more often in our kitchen. He taught Jean and XiaoLan how to bake simple cakes, a category called kuglehopf. (sp?) He taught them to make a delightful lemon pan cake, topped with a brushing of fresh lemon juice, water and confectioners sugar. These have become staples in our line of products, popular with the customers. He improved our pretzels, which now have a steady following among our few German customers. We also experimented with a mousse cake that never came out to my satisfaction and I finally dumped it.
Mousse is not in keeping with our 'down home country' persona.
He has helped me in many small ways. He helped me expand the sourcing of my supplies, knowing that side of Changzhou much better than me. He introduced me to new products, like gelatin sheets. We would kick around ideas, for his place, for my place, and for collaborations. It meant a lot to me, reducing my sense of isolation, until he went to Germany.
China has changed the visa laws again, putting a limit to how many times a person can leave the country to Hong Kong and come back again on a tourist visa. This affects Silvio directly, and so now he is in Germany. He thought he might have to spend three to six months there before he could arrange another visa to come back. Meanwhile, the Bistro sits empty. I miss him.
During this year and a half at the bakery, my health has declined. At the beginning it was easy to abstain from our products. I tend to prefer savory snacks to sweet ones. But I was working long days, often 12 plus hours. I did not take the time to properly shop and prepare meals for myself. I ate whatever was on hand. I got no exercise. And so I put on weight.
I tried to diet, but without exercise and proper meals, it was discouraging. I gave up, and started doing quality control sampling of my products.
Blood pressure, arthritis, these things were aggravated. I would have symptoms that concerned me, and I wanted to know what to do about them. That's how I wound up visiting the nearest hospital, a TCM (traditional Chinese medicine) hospital. I had some discomfort left over from an earlier ebike accident, pains in the abdomen, and wanted it checked out. After frustrating attempts at communication, the doctor made a phone call, and soon a doctor arrived who spoke English.
I call him Doc Wilson. In the end, the doctor reassured me that there was nothing seriously wrong with my abdomen. The soreness may or may not go away with time. We left the doctor's office and wound up standing in the corridor having a long conversation. He wanted to know more about the relationship between doctor and patient in the west. He had a lot of questions, and also needed practice speaking English lest he forget it. He had worked a year in Dubai at a hospital, which had been an eye opener.
I wound up calling upon him when small matters, like athlete's foot, cropped up. I'd text him for an OTC medicine recommendation. He'd text me back a product name, which I could show at any pharmacy. We'd get together occasionally.
On April 11 his new daughter completed 100 days on earth. Traditionally this calls for a celebration. He was hiring out a dining room in a ritzy hotel, and needed gift boxes of pastries to give the guests, all 120 of them. The traditional box should have six different baked items. He came to me, saying that everyone buys them from the same large bakery chain here, called Happiness (da xi lai) , but usually threw the ingredients away. This store produces products high in sugar and low in natural flavors. He wanted to do something different, and in the process help me bring in new customers.
I wound up giving him such a low price that my employees protested to me. They took the solution into their own hands, making the muffins a little smaller, etc. They do watch out for me, curbing my natural tendency towards generosity (leading to bankruptcy). It was an incredibly difficult project. I am proud of the staff for how they organized the work over two weeks, and on the last day stayed 14 hours to see all the boxes properly packed. I came in at 6 am the last morning. Doc was to come in at noon. I was amazed to find all the boxes packed. There was nothing left to do but wrap them in ribbon. The ladies backed off from that, saying they didn't know how.
Randy came in around nine, and helped. We streamlined measuring and cutting 120 ribbons, and then he held his finger on the ribbon while I tied the knot.
Randy is a customer who I began to notice in October or November. He would come in a few times a week for a cup of coffee. Over time the frequency increased. He is American, early 60's, who has been in China for 20 years. He is single. He owns a large apartment within walking distance of the bakery. He has worked for large European and American companies through that time, but now is on his own. He has fingers in many pies; consultancies and joint venture factories prominent among them. As I would find out much later, despite his apparent success, he is a pauper.
I started looking forward to his daily arrival. I would take a break from work and sit with him. I found him very easy to talk to. We seemed to have a lot in common.
True to Chinese culture, XiaoLan decided he and I ought to get together. She asked me if he was married. I didn't know. So she approached him next visit and asked him. His Chinese is pretty good.
He grew up in a large family on a farm in South Dakota. His mother died when he was around 10, and he wound up doing a lot of the cooking. I am often reminded of Garrison Kiehler's stereotype, the Norwegian Bachelor Farmer. Randy is painfully shy and reclusive. He is well known in the community here, because he does attend social events as a means to expand his business connections. He speaks easily to strangers. So how is he shy and reclusive? It is that no one gets passed the gate into his person. He is self reliant, and for all his acquaintances he has no apparent emotionally supportive social circle of friends. Much later, I would discover how much he was hiding from us. He is an enigma.
In an effort to get to know him better I devised ways to spend time with him away from the bakery. It took a week of monosyllabic text messaging before we arranged a dinner date. It was a very pleasant event, with no follow up. I arranged long rides out to the edge of the city, where the wholesale food suppliers are, for my flour and other supplies. We get along great, but nothing is ever initiated from his side.
He had been kicking around the idea of starting a business making sausages. I encouraged him in that, we kicked around models of cooperation, where I'd move the bakery into a larger space where I could also serve meals featuring his products. This month he has built his smoker, and has started producing breakfast sausage patties and bacon. He has many more items to come. I suggested he package his product in vacuum sealed bags. I own a sealer, so he comes to the bakery to use our meat slicer and vacuum sealer.
Reluctantly I've realized that I have to back off. This man is set in his ways, and does not want or need a woman introduced into his small social circle of old Chinese friends. (Foreigners make terrible friends, because sooner or later they all move on, returning to their home country or another foreign assignment.)
I am content and grateful that I have him as a friend. He is very generous with his time. In the first weeks of my broken arm, he came to my apartment to clean. He spent hours vacuuming, dusting, sorting out the dirt pile on my balcony that had been a garden before my new cat, Fella, demolished it. He is a really good-hearted man. And after all, I am also set in my ways, and don't cherish the thought of someone moving into my life making demands on my time.
This past weekend in April AJ, his wife Jenny, and baby Amber came to the bakery for a visit. They had moved to Shanghai, so it has been many, many months since I've seen them. They came at noon and tried out my pizzas. It was wonderful to see them, and know they are happy in Shanghai.
I asked AJ if he still had the Android app he made for me, but he said he deleted it all. Next I asked about the web domain he built, called YourChangzhou.org. Randy and I had been talking about starting a web site with touristy kind of news of Changzhou, as well as infomercials for local ex pat businesses and functions. I asked AJ to look into finding out how we could take over that domain name, which he still owns.
There is a tourist magazine for many cities in China. That's. That's Beijing, That's Chengdu, etc. We couldn't afford to set up such an elaborate magazine, but we thought we could put together a similar concept with only an online presence. The That's magazines are usually distributed in the larger hotels of their cities. Randy thinks it is still useful to maintain just a digital presence. He plans to solicit sponsorship from the large hotels and restaurants who would advertise there. It's all still in the talking stage, but we might be able to put it together. It's possible.
On February 13 I drowned my iPhone. It would take two weeks to fix. Having a phone is crucial to shopping online, and so this caused no small inconvenience. At least half of our daily supplies comes from online shopping. Finally the Apple Service Center called me and said I could pick the phone up on February 28. On the evening of February 27, two blocks from my home, an ebike crashed into me while I was initiating a left turn. I broke my arm.
That day I had parked my bike at Libby's apartment complex, and we took the bus to Metro for shopping. By the time we got back the rain had stopped and dusk had fallen. I was riding my bike the two blocks to my house when it happened. On a narrow two lane black top road lined with housing complexes, the area called collectively 'Xin Cheng Nan Du' or New South City, I was preparing to make a left turn. I slowed down, watched the traffic ahead and behind me, waiting for an opening. Just as I turned my wheel left, a small yellow ebike sped from behind, heedlessly heading straight across an intersection. My front wheel clipped his rear, dragging my bike for an instant before he stopped. I toppled left, with forward momentum, landing full on my elbow. The force of the blow ran up the bone to the crown of the joint, fracturing the bone where it met the ball.
I had never felt such pain. I couldn't move. I couldn't even open my eyes, focusing all my concentration on containing the pain. The man and his woman passenger, all decked out for a night on the town, were trying to talk to me. They ran through the usual dialogue (call your family, should we call the police? Let's get you out of the road). I managed to utter a few words, enough so they knew I understood, but I was dazed and could not enter into a conversation.
It took a few moments to collect my thoughts, but then I remembered Randy. His apartment is next door to Libby's, and he has a car. I called him, and he immediately went into action. When he arrived he put me into his car, and then took care of my ebike. The bike was only superficially damaged, with scrapes and dents.
A hospital had opened a couple of years ago in University Town where I used to live. Randy drove me there. The x-ray showed the fractured bone, and it looked like a clean and shallow fracture. I was in severe pain. Randy stood helplessly by, looking over the shoulder of the 'doctor'. Perhaps he was an intern, though he had some years on him. He started running a spiel. There could be complications, you may need surgery, you should have a CT scan. Do you want to stay in the hospital overnight, and have the scan in the morning? I was in shock, incapable of conceiving how I could take care of myself at home. It is a totally helpless, vulnerable state to be in. At the question, an image arrived of being in a clean, warm and quiet room, with capable nurses knowing how to make me comfortable. I said 'yes'.
Randy disappeared to pay upfront. Then they rolled my gurney up to the fourth floor. They parked me in the hallway. Randy hung around until the nurse brought a blanket and I was made as comfortable as possible, and then he left.
When the nurse brought the clean blanket, she remarked that my clothes were wet and dirty (from being dragged in the street), that I should remove them. Great, I thought, now she'll bring me a nightgown and slippers. No, that is not what happened. She left. Then I realized I had to pee, and couldn't put it off. I tried to raise myself up. Even just the thought made me grunt, as I commanded my muscles and limbs to rally to the effort to no result. But I kept trying. Down the corridor there was another gurney. A man and woman lie on it. I couldn't tell who was the patient. They lifted their heads at my grunts, seemed disconcerted. Helplessly, I started calling out. Nurse, nurse, nurse. I don't know the word in Chinese, but I figured eventually some one would come. A man came. I said I needed the toilet. He helped me get up, I struggled into my sneakers, and we walk around the end of the gurney to the toilet. What, no bed pan????
He opened the door for me, and then left. There I was, in a tiny cubicle with a (western) toilet and three layers of clothes on to be removed by one good hand. Every movement of any part of my body sent out waves of pain. I struggled to lift up my dress and pull down the long johns, then the panties, but it took too long The bladder let loose before I was ready.
I found my way back to the gurney. I don't remember how I got back into the bed; probably a nurse showed up to help me. As I lay there, fruitlessly trying to get comfortable, I played with my phone The bakery's smart phone was the only distraction I had. It wasn't like my iPhone, which would have afforded me more distractions (games, WeChat, podcasts). I called Rachel, just to let her know I wouldn't be into work in the morning. I also call Stephanie, asking her to cross the street and bring me slippers. She said that no, she didn't have a spare pair, but would bring me hers. Her apartment is literally on the corner opposite the hospital.
I had just woke up when I saw Rachel rounding the corner of an adjacent corridor. Behind her was XiaoLan, and Rachel's aunt and grandmother. They had been out shopping for the wedding, and Xiao Lan had planned to take the next day off.
It wasn't long before the doctor appeared, the same guy. He is wanted to bind up the shoulder in some way, to protect the healing. He explains the fracture to Rachel, and the 'need' for the CT scan. Then he asks a nurse to bring him a sling. It is two one-foot long strips of padding, held together by about eight inches of broad elastic. Then there are straps to go across the chest, to hold it in place.
He stretched out the elastic and slipped it around my shoulder and elbow. Then he tried to fasten the straps, but he said I was too fat. The straps didn't reach. The next option is plaster. He leaves, and comes back with a long broad strip of layered gauze soaked in wet plaster. He tries to put it on my arm shouldter to elbow, over my clothes. I was incredulous. Righteous indignation at such stupidity and incompetence was barely contained. Rachel explained that I'd like to take my clothes off first. He argued indignantly, but finally retreated. The ladies help me get out of my denim jumper and my turtle neck shirt., and remove the bra. Then he came back, and applied the plaster. He then secured it to my body by encasing my chest in gauze.
Then he talked with me through Rachel about needing the CT scan in the morning, and possibly surgery. And that point I had had enough with that doctor. I had seen enough of the x-ray to feel that it was a clean break, not needing surgery. I told him I wanted to leave the hospital and go home. He puffed himself up with arrogance and indignation, laying down his commands for his patient. I said clearly and assertively, that there would be no operation and no overnight stay in the hallway of a hospital. I was going home. He said well, if you won't do what I tell you to do then I'm done with you. You can take your chances.
He signed the necessary papers for us to get Randy's money back, and we checked out. As it turns out, Randy had only 200 rmb on him when he came. You get what you pay for. Had he 1,000 rmb in his pocket I would have been given a bed in a room.
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| Me, Emilio, Stephanie, Ricky |
Rachel had called Stephanie back, and suggested she bring some clothes as well. So we covered my upper body as best we could with her long-sleeved shirt, tried to secure the jumper with a spandex mini skirt, and we moved to the exit. Stephanie could no go home, because of an ongoing issue with her apartment security card The outside door needed an electronic key, her key no longer worked but after a month of negotiating she had still not obtained a new one, and since it was past 10 p.m. she was locked out. Rachel's car was full of her family and their purchases. So Stephanie helped me get home in a taxi, and spent the short night with me. She was very good natured about it. I felt relief knowing someone else was there. I gave her sheets and blankets for the couch. But she had an 8 a.m. class, so I had to set the alarm for 6 a.m. She later admitted that she was also enduring an uncomfortable mensis.
Stephanie is not angelic. She is an angel.
That is a synopsis of what's been going on up until the Spring. One day I will make a book from these notes, so this is my effort not to forget too much.
