Here's to you, Mr. Robinson. Also, Ass't Man.

Cat Breakthrough

Wildcat Robinson came inside for breakfast this morning, as he usually does; then, for the second time, he rubbed against my leg; and then he rubbed against my hand . . . and let me crouch and pet him. A first.
He is very soft, like a plush toy.

(Robinson is maybe only a year old. The fur coats of the two girl cats here are not so soft, as the cats are old and have some health issues.
My gray hair, too, is crispier than the dark hair of my younger years.)

The husband of the house is eager--insistent even--that I try to make Robinson stay inside. He keeps emailing me about it.
So today while Robinson was eating, I snuck around (something he wouldn't let me do before), shut the outside door, took a photo of Robinson with the closed-door behind him, and emailed it off.

Then I opened the door, and Robinson immediately ran outside. "Don't fence me in!"

Now I am sitting outside with my coffee, and I've put the cat food out too. Robinson doesn't eat much cat food, but he's looking sleek--I think he is living on chippies (chipmunks).)
Here, he is playing with a leaf under the tree nearby--below, to the left.

 

I disagree with the home-owner's ideas for how I should interact with Robinson, and yet I understand that he is very worried about the cat and wants reassurance.
(I even wonder if he mightn't have gone on this trip, except it was planned pre-Robinson. )

Actually, the wife of the house agrees with me too--she's not worried and told me to feed Robinson outside if he doesn't want to come in; however it's the husband's project. He saved Robinson's life--found him near to death from a wound.

According to everything I've been reading about domesticating feral cats, I'm doing the right thing by the cat :
it's all about going slowly, building trust, and letting the cat come to you.
Which Robinson is doing! 

I'm only here a couple more weeks--then the owner can resume his relationship with the cat and do what he thinks is best.
He has told me that Robinson is too wild to stay inside all the time, and he will be an outdoor as well as an indoor cat.
That relieves me.

Meanwhile, I'm... bending the truth.

What I said: I kept Robinson inside!

What I didn't say: ... for a minute.

Miss Marmelade has just come outside too. (She also doesn't want Robinson inside, because she hates him.)
"Is that for me?"

Back to Work

By yesterday evening, I was completely over my reaction to the Covid Omicron booster.
Back to work today. Saturdays are often more relaxed than weekdays, even if the store is very busy, because Big Boss is never there.

I think this Saturday, it's Ass't Man's shift. 
We have become work buddies. I wouldn't have predicted it, that's for sure, when he was first made manager and was all 'I Am the King of the Forest'.
He is now acting like the guy I first recruited as a volunteer three years ago: someone who, like me, LOVES old stuff.
And he's dropped the I Am the Man [-ager] act. Thankgod.

He knows thrift, too. We are both always pulling stuff out of recycling and saying, "OMG, look at this!"

The other day I pulled a vintage Adidas woman's T-shirt out of textile baling. Like this one:

"I bet that's from the '80s", he said.

 "Starsky & Hutch!" I said.

Another one of those ethical quandaries.
The store rule is, if you pull it from baling, you can have it for 50 cents. But if you know it's a lot worth more, shouldn't you price it for the store?

Almost always, I do, and Ass't Man does too. (Either of us could be buying that stuff for low store prices, and reselling it online ourselves.)
He recently brought me a box of Ninja Turtle toys that had just been donated and told me to research them, they were probably worth a lot. I might have double-checked? But with toys, I don't have the same Spidey Sense.
And--wow--one of them sold online for $500!
I priced it $100 and put it and the others (less, but still spendy) in the jewelry case.

In this case, I paid my 50 cents and gave the Adidas t-shirt to Marz, who looks like Starsky's sister in it. (Well, maybe Hutch's sister, being a blondie.)

I looked it up, and, yep--the '80s. Sells for around $20 online. (We’d price it a fraction of that—maybe $4.99.)
Ass't Man told me he'd bought a vintage Nirvana T-shirt off the rack the other day, priced $2.99. 

Of course that's what shoppers are hoping for too.

I probably haven't given AM credit here because he was such a jerk, but from the start, his organizational skills have helped the store immensely. (I mean organization of stuff, not people. He's still not great with people, though he is arguable better.)

First thing, he moved the hardware section so customers no longer had to climb over furniture to reach it. Before, it had been a heap in a corner (literally behind couches), and hardware sales had averaged $89/month.
Now they are ten times that, or more.
His endcaps and other design improvements have increased sales in other departments too.