| THE BARNCAT CHRONICLES |
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A mob-blog from the barncats on what it's like working at Jami Bernard's entrepreneurial startup |
More in the ongoing, soon-to-be-award-winning saga of Barncat Publishing Inc., a startup with high hopes, low cash flow and much chaos. This week at Barncat:
The View from Barncat HQ, July 4, 2008
 What are these two Barncat interns up to? See more photos, below right, to get the answer to that burning question: What is the potential downside of having free interns for the summer?March 1, 2008 When I tell people I’m starting my own business, I giggle. I’m going to have to stop that. Yes of course it’s ridiculous, the idea of my starting a business when I still count on my fingers. Cap’n, I’m a liberal arts major, not an MBA! Cap’n, I canna understand these terms, “S Corporation” and “Accounts Receivable”! Nevertheless. I am starting my own business. With Barncat Publishing Inc., I will help writers finish their books and get published. I will banish their fears, teach them the tricks, make it fun. I can teach them to do it or I can do it for them; in my 20 years as a film critic, I absorbed story sense and rhythm by osmosis. Within a week I’ll be incorporated. Then I'll open a business account, apply for a merchant account, get an EIN, set up autoresponders. What in hell are these things? I'm not really sure. But I like a steep learning curve. When I left The Daily News on May 31, 2006, I knew there would never be another film critic job (not at my level, not at that pay). Since then I have been living off the proceeds of a real-estate windfall: math phobia or not, I bought two apartments in Chelsea back when no one wanted to live there, and 19 years later I sold them for a profit of over $1 million. I do not actually have this $1.3 million, so don't bother being nice to me in hopes I'll share. I have searched among the pocket lint and no, the windfall actually sounds much better on paper than in the bank account. My plan was to make my living entirely from writing books. I had already published seven books, but you need that PLUS a real-estate windfall if you're going to pay off a New York-style overhead. I had other lovely ideas, but the one that has been operational up until now has been the one where I lie on the sofa with the laptop propped up so I can noodle around with Dreamweaver and other fascinating computer programs. This plan includes not answering the phone and cutting off all my friends. So what if some people call this depression? I call it relaxing! But that was before. As of today, I am the founder of Barncat Publishing Inc. I am an entrepreneur. I am running my own business. (Tee-hee!)
March 7, 2008 Had lunch today with My Lawyer. He’s a friend and he has a name, but I like to call him My Lawyer. He’s going to help me incorporate. Will I feel any different afterward? Will I respect myself in the morning? Hard to say. Because I don’t really know what "incorporating" means, just that my accountant said I should. I looked up S Corporations, LLCs, single proprietorships and some sales on shoes at Zappo’s. I sent my accountant an article I found on the web that said S Corporations were excuses for accountants to bilk their clients through unnecessarily complicated paperwork. He sent back the e-mail equivalent of a growl. My Lawyer says it’s no problem. Can be done practically overnight. By Monday I’ll be able to open a business account and have checks with my pretty new Barncat logo on them. I will learn to set up QuickBooks and payroll. I will understand the term “accounts receivable.” It’s good to be a person who is no longer lying on the sofa. It’s good to have things in one’s life such as lunches with one’s lawyer. And it’s good to have those lunches right across the street from Kate’s Paperie, an overpriced yet heavenly boutique full of things I desperately need: handmade paper with real dried flowers pressed in; clear plastic Chinese carry-out cartons for the cookies I never bake but which, if I did, would make a wonderful present when done up in those boxes. Barncat has not technically made enough money to keep me in handmade paper. But what good is being an entrepreneur if you cannot indulge yourself in bouts of panic-spending?
March 11 Vanessa’s coming over this afternoon to help me plan how to make money from Barncat. Apparently it is not enough just to start a business; you also have to sell something. I am learning so much!
March 11 Jami and I discuss ideas for Barncat—webcasts, online courses, full-day workshops, new books, etc. Budget is tight. I can see that she’ll need some free labor, but my kids are still too young. Ananda is 3 and Indigo is 18 months.
March 13 My Lawyer, the one who said that incorporating would take two seconds, is not returning phone calls. Or e-mail. Now that I’m not just a friend, I’m getting the “client” treatment, I guess. I’ll have to take matters into my own hands. I’ll check out those services on the web that take care of all your incorporation needs for $750. That’s about $600 more than I was going to pay My Lawyer, but I’d rather have the job done, expensively, than the joy of knowing how much less I’d have paid had My Lawyer called me back. Today was another session with someone better than a shrink—Jane Celwyn, dean of the Office of Career Development at Barnard College, my alma mater. When my friend Florrie suggested back in January that I give Jane a call, I had no idea what an office for "career development" had to do with me. But I gave it a shot, since lying on the sofa with my laptop and Adobe Creative Suite 2 was not proving remunerative. The idea of starting up my own business must have been percolating in my mind all those months on the sofa, because suddenly everything started to come into focus. Of course! I could teach, edit, copy-edit, sell course books, and create a website. At the thought of creating a website, I began to salivate and look furtive, because it would necessitate heavy use of Dreamweaver, a computer program that offers me such a siren call that I’ve been referring to it as Crackweaver.
March 18 Jami says we should get an intern for the summer. Yahoo!!!! She posted an ad with Barnard College where she’s an alumna. Don’t bother posting at my college, the College of Staten Island—who would travel two hours each way from The Forgotten Borough to Roosevelt Island? Oh, wait. I do that now. Maybe an intern can babysit my kids while I use the gym in Jami’s building. I LOVE BARNCAT!
March 25 The intern applications are flooding in. We’re getting an intern! We’re getting an intern! Jami seems more relaxed knowing that help is the way. Maybe I’ll get a break too. Jami is at her computer now adding more color to the Barncat website to lure applicants. She’s using Crack-weaver again. She says she can stop tinkering with the computer any time she likes, but it’s not looking good.
April 4 Melissa’s in town! She’s one of my students. First-time writer. She’s been working with me on her memoir since last June, and now she has flown in to meet with three agents who have expressed interest. I met her at her hotel and made her tell me every single thing the agents said, what their offices looked like, what they wore, anything that would help me read the tea leaves. In the end the choice was clear: Mel Berger of the William Morris Agency. I like the name “Mel Berger”; it sounds so old-time, like he has a stubby cigar in one hand. I start referring to him as MELBERGER, one word, uttered gruffly. We toasted Melissa’s success; the dear girl bought me a bottle of Grey Goose vodka and insisted I take it home so she wouldn’t have to carry it back on the plane. I love my students!
April 8 Jami has put me in charge of coordinating the interviews with the interns and narrowing down the choices. Today is the first day of interviews. I have four prospects. Two will be by phone. First up—Francesca, who is studying abroad in Paris. I like that. A world traveler. When I call her she sounds really nice and enthusiastic. Communicates well and seems very interested in what we are doing here at Barncat. Put a star next to her name. I see two more girls in the afternoon, both nice, and will have another phone interview tonight after I put the boys to bed. Except Ananda is still up when it’s time to call and insists on saying hello to the interviewee, who kindly obliges. Two stars for her. I turned 29 today—almost 30. The years are flying by. Next time I blink, I’ll be a grandmother!
April 8 Not to overly romanticize a Parisian existence, but when the time came for my Barncat interview I just happened to be drinking too much espresso at the café down the street. I had been attempting to pull together some pieces for a writing portfolio and, in typical form, had lost track of time. To my horror I noticed, scribbled in several notebooks, the time of my phone interview with Vanessa. It was now just minutes away. Does lateness count when you’re interviewing for a job? After two summers of somewhat engaging but mostly mind-numbing internships in the publishing world, the prospect of Barncat was new, exciting, and certainly something I did not want to be late for. I major in Creative Writing at Barnard and, while I still wasn’t sure just what Barncat specifically did, I knew the entrepreneurial and freelance-intensive nature of the business would be a much-welcome shock in my resume, if not my life. It was once I started talking to Vanessa that I realized how badly I wanted this opportunity. I hope I didn’t lay it on too thick, but it was a rare experience in that I was suddenly able to vocalize, without planning ahead or necessarily thinking about it, how this internship and I were perfect for each other.
April 11 Came in an extra day this week to interview more prospective interns. My schedule is booked from 9 a.m. till 2 p.m., when Jami and I leave to get massages. First up—Danielle. Quiet. Very attentive. An excellent writer!!!! Next is Abby. Although Abby’s tongue ring has me distracted, her experience working with her dad to get a girls’ soccer team going in her community intrigues me. Sounds like great marketing experience. And what a cool dad! At 11:30 a.m. I have an interview with Kate, who is studying abroad in Spain. I wonder what time it is there. Can’t be too late, but when I call she seems surprised. She makes up for it with her enthusiasm and I put a star next to her name. Interviews are done at 2 and Jami and I labor over which one to choose. We love them all. Weird-looking guy gives me a massage. I close my eyes and try to imagine that he is someone else.
April 11 It is 9:10 a.m. and I am standing outside Barncat headquarters, trying to compose myself. I am 10 minutes late to the interview, which is not like me … so I’m wasting a few more minutes mentally beating myself up over it. Vanessa comes to the door and invites me in as I slowly catch my breath (still panting from the 10,000,000 steps I climbed to get out of the depths of the subway station). Vanessa: Did you have trouble finding the place? The short answer is yes. The long answer is that I woke up an hour late and had one of those sitcom mornings that should not be allowed unless there is a laugh track and the promise of a happy ending in 22 minutes. Despite having carefully set my alarm for 7:15 (enough time to shower, fix my hair and get coffee and a muffin before leisurely taking the train to my 9 a.m. interview), I somehow managed to magically deactivate it in my sleep. 8:00—Glance at watch. “Oh how funny. That would be sooo classic, if it was actually 8 a.m. Good thing this is nothing but a stress dream.” 8:01—“&*#@*#^!!!” No time for shower. No time for hair. Definitely no time for muffin. 8:10—I am waiting for the train, out of breath and angry at everything. “DANIELLE! Where are you going?!” a friend yells from across the platform. I pretend I don’t hear her. Can’t she tell I am in crisis mode?! Now someone else wants to distract me from my important problems. “How long have you been waiting for the train?” asks a 15-year-old beside me. “Not long.” “Oh…where do you go to school?” What? Seriously? Oh, great. This kid thinks I am on my way to high school. He has recognized me as one of his own. I am not in high school! I am mature and on my way to a very important job interview! This does not bode well. But the train gods are on my side for all three of the trains I need to get to the elusive Barncats. Perhaps I will not be so late as to appear ridiculously irresponsible and unqualified. When I finally get to where I’m supposed to, I do in fact get lost and spend 15 minutes running around before I finally figure out where Barncat headquarters is. So I maintain the illusion of sanity and tell Vanessa that yes, I did get lost. And that is why I’m late.
April 11 I really want this job. Today was my interview and I feel pretty good about it. Naturally I got lost on the way but still managed to make it with ten minutes to spare. I used the extra time to walk down to the water and imagine what it would be like to work here all summer. I breathed in the salt air that I love so much and thought, if I can be this near to the water while working in a city, this job is meant to be. Barncat, the city, and the people . . . it is all so exciting.
April 11 Okay, so my interview is set for 10 a.m. New York time but that’s 5 p.m. Barcelona time. I have emailed Vanessa about it, but haven’t heard back so I suppose there will be no interview today. Hmmm. I am walking around El Raval, a neighborhood that used to be known for immigrant communities and slight seediness and now known for variations of both as well as home to good dive bars (and by good, I mean dank, filled with Moreno men and smoky, though I don’t smoke). El Raval meets the Modern art museum of Barcelona, MACBA, where there is plenty of pavement for skateboarders to learn tricks and act like they’re going to kill you. Anyway, I stopped in a small Mexican restaurant and got a glass of red to end the day. Around 5 o’clock my phone rings, and oh my goodness, it is a New York number I do not recognize. I answer. Apparently my interview is on, and in progress. I am focusing and have barely had a sip of wine. Yet I feel like a moron or parody of “what-not-to-do-on-your-interview” that would come in the final segment on SNL. I maintain my calm and plug my other ear to be as soundproof as possible. Here's hoping the background noise is not as loud to Vanessa as it is to me ,,,
April 11 Vanessa and I have this little routine worked out: She’ll do the preliminary interviews and at some point sneak back to my office and show me their writing. I have a Geiger Counter sense for talent, so sometimes I bypass our little routine and rush out to chat with them. Vanessa shoots me a look, like, “You said you'd stay out of this!” I want to hire ALL of them. Each one so poised and talented. We discuss them, we make lists, we can’t decide. I call the Barnard scholarship office on the off-chance that we qualify for more than one intern. We qualify. And that is how Barncat got Danielle, Abby, Francesca and Kate. And then Vanessa and I went for a massage.
May 13 In one week the first two interns will be here. Maybe we’ll get some breathing space. Jami and I have been running around like two cats in a barn. Jami has been working 18 hours days steadily since late January, since the moment she got up off the couch and decided to start a business. She doesn’t take any days off, she eats at her desk. And she’s crabby. Jami is hooked on that Dreamweaver software. There she goes tinkering with something on the site again. “A quick fix” somehow always turns into five hours. And we have manuscripts to edit!
May 20 Relief. Today is Abby and Danielle’s first day. I typed up a quick orientation. Rule No. 1: Don’t let the barncats out. Jami's afraid that her favorite cat, Tsuko, will run into the hall and never be seen again. She spends more time taking care of the animals than taking care of the business.
May 20
OMG, the first interns are here! I feel a weight lift from my shoulders even before they actually do anything. Help has arrived! Vanessa gave them the rundown while I edited student papers and snuck in a little Crackweaver while V wasn't looking. I hope she remembered to tell the interns the No. 1 rule of Barncat: Do not let Tsuko run out into the hall. She’s quick as a flash. She runs out and waits for me to come get her. Then she rolls onto her back so I can stroke her belly. But if an intern doesn’t see her get out, no one will come for her, no one will stroke her belly, she’ll wander into an elevator and be lost forever on another floor … oh my little Tsuko! I cannot bear it. We all have lunch together. I have this idea that we will have brainstorming lunches and the inerns will feel valued for their ideas and input. “Did you tell them about Tsuko?” I ask sternly. Vanessa rolls her eyes. I start them off with one of my favorite Sufi parables, the one about the dilettante who never found his niche, but who was able to survive a shipwreck on a desert isle by using everything he’d ever tinkered with to build a ship and sail home. I love this parable because I believe that nothing you do—not even lying on a sofa for a year and a half fiddling with Crackweaver or InDesign, is time wasted or lost. One day—you won’t see it coming—everything you’ve ever done in life will come in handy. You’re not nothing just because you’re not gainfully employed. I believe this would inspire and galvanize the interns. “Where did you get this hummos?” asks Danielle. Maybe it’s my delivery.
May 20 Things I want to ask Jami (but am afraid to): 1. What is Oprah Like? 2. What should I read this summer? 3. What should I watch this summer? That’s really it. My most burning questions are related to Oprah. I’ve said too much.
May 20 The bird stares at me. Like, all the time. Through a little hole in its
I don’t know birds very well . . . but this one knows something.
May 27 Jami and I love our new interns. Suddenly feeling more relaxed. Jami’s eye isn’t twitching as much. But she still talks to herself.
May 27 Today Abby and I posted flyers for the Barncat memoir contest in various strategic and logical places throughout the Island. We were happy and proud of our posting sites which included, but were not limited to, cafes, book stores, pizzerias, costume shops and sides of Learning Annex boxes. That should guarantee diverse and interesting entries, right?
June 3 Today Danielle and I went to a discussion held at Columbia for Internet Week. We thought it would give us some good ideas for Barncat. We learned a lot about the changing media and how to work with less traditional forms of journalism such as blogs. But the entire time I was distracted by this woman nodding. Not nodding off or anything, just nodding. Apparently she agreed with everything that was being said. I could almost hear her muttering “uh-uh” and “yes,” as if she already knew what all the panelists were going to say. Lady, if you already knew all of this, why did you come? In the end she must have sustained the only case of slowly developed whiplash known to man.
June 10 Today Jami fired Vanessa three times. All three took place during our really nice lunch of hummus sandwiches, grapes and nuts.
June 17 Two new interns start today—Kate and Francesca. Can’t remember what Kate told me during our interview; it was so long ago. Was she into marketing or writing? Will have to look for her résumé.
June 17 Roosevelt Island? Where is that? What borough is that in? Despite having lived in Manhattan for three years I had absolutely no idea that a small island existed in the middle of the East River, right in the shadow of the 59th Street Bridge. Preparing for my first day at Barncat, which consisted of asking the oracle of HopStop.com for directions, I found that getting to the Island from the Upper West Side is nearly impossible. Well, maybe not so impossible after all. After budgeting an hour for my commute, I emerged on Main Street (Main Street, New York!) after only 35 relatively painless minutes of train-hopping. While I’m not sure what I was expecting this new land to be, I was definitely pleasantly surprised. The air was cleaner, more breathable, and didn’t smell of ambiguous sewage, and there was a breeze off the river that seemed almost beach-like. Something resembling peacefulness came over me, a rarity living in New York, as I saw all the green space and experienced the bizarre lack of noise. The Duane Reade and Starbucks still let me know that I was clearly in New York but, remarkably, I have become a Roosevelt Island convert, Manhattan snobbery be damned.
June 18 Kate e-mailed out sick today, only her second day here. We must have scared her. Hope she comes back.
June 20 I accused Vanessa of eating all the food until I realized it was the interns. I guess they’re growing girls. I’m going to have to hide the breadsticks from them, maybe in the bedroom.
June20 It’s Friday of my first week and we are back at Jami’s. On Wednesday I was supposed to be here, yet somehow I wasn’t. In the night I got sick and fell asleep afterward. Suddenly it was 10 a.m.; I was an hour late without calling anyone. Showed up for fabulous new internship on Day 1, then disappeared off the face of the earth Day 2. Kate work ethic in need of something. I work from home and feel like a dilettante. I rest up and realize there is no bird at my right. The grey-white-red one will get used to me, but I decide to expand my repertoire of sounds that I make at her, just to open her world a little bit. Friday is a nine to five day, but really a nine to four day. I hang out a bit longer after our illustrious boss gives us champagne. It suits me fine. That morning I gorge on raw almonds and grapes like I haven’t seen food for a week. Three cups of coffee without the feeling of addiction or hyperactivity. Nifty coffee maker brews individual cups instantaneously. Removes the pot from the equation. Sensei Watch Day 2: She has not yet spoken or sung, but I am patient—well, not really at all—I continue to make random noises at her to provoke a response. Is it possible she is more mature than I am? She shreds cardboard like I chew lettuce and gives a warning squawk before she affixes her claws to the bars of the cage and slides down like a paratrooper. It is her playground. Roosevelt Island is a curiosity. I always think of continental drift and wonder when exactly it broke off from Queens and Manhattan. In thousands of years it will crash into the opposite bank from which it split. The bridge is only sort of a bridge. You can’t walk across it and you can’t get to the Island from Manhattan without going to Queens and circling back. My grandfather, an engineer, worked his whole life for the Texas Highway Department and would have thought it silly, a structure for connecting places that takes you out of your way to get you where you’re going. He’s a special soul, 86 years old and he still holds my hand. After so much of life, it is all I ask for.
June 24 Must re-do food budget. Those interns eat enough food to feed a football team.
June 24 I’m beginning to realize the amount of schadenfreude that exists in my life. It might be time to do something about it. One of my favorite things about Barncat headquarters is the view of the 59th Street Bridge, specifically its crawling traffic. As I sit here with a full mug of coffee (a wonderful creation, this mug, with a Monet quote on the side, “I have always worked better alone” – every writer should own one), wireless Internet and comfortable air conditioning, I gleefully glance out at the traffic that has moved just inches from when I observed it five minutes ago. I’m perched high above the rest of the world and, to be honest, I’m pretty happy about it. Here at Barncat our lunches are working lunches, great opportunities for us interns to eagerly pitch ideas to Jami, who will either reject or accept them after explaining her decision. We are, after all, here to learn. This is, for better or worse, when the schadenfreude is at its height. Not only am I still in my little Barncat bubble, observing the toiling cars in limbo between Queens and Manhattan, but the feeling starts to get more specific. For the first time I have an internship I feel great about, one that I look forward to working on, working toward something concrete and exciting where my input actually matters. So maybe this feeling isn’t as evil or cold as schadenfreude. But while typing away at Barncat on the top of the world, I can’t help feeling a little sorry for people stuck in situations like my internships past.
June 27 Today our Barncat Interns have a work at home day (how cool is that!), while I’m in an all-day training session for Dreamweaver, or better known as Crackweaver. I didn’t understand Jami’s addiction until I linked my first page. Now I’m hooked. Hope the little barncats got up early and are fast at work.
June 27 I should never work from home. Today the Barncat interns forego headquarters in favor of working from our respective dwellings. This means, in theory, that I should be able to work at my own pace from the comfort of my own couch, where I will be relaxed enough to efficiently produce stellar work. What it means in actuality is that my day goes like this: 9:00 a.m. Alarm goes off. Hit snooze.
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cardboard box, or hanging upside down from the top of its cage, or clinging to the bars on the side and pressing its feathery skull against them. The bird never blinks. It’s like a female bird version of Robert De Niro in Meet The Parents: I’m watching you Focker. |
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THE PLAYERS: Jami: It's her show. But can she run it? And armed only with a liberal arts
Vanessa: She's the manager. Right now she's managing
The Interns: Abby, Danielle, Francesca and Kate. They're smart, they're adorable, and they're wondering what they've gotten themselves into. Strangely, they do not appreciate cat fur in their hummos at the Barncat strategy sessions; they're sensitive that way.
Tsuko and Buzz: The real barncats.
Sensei: |
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The View from Barncat HQ, July 4, 2008
The interns have beer at the July 4 carnival, with unfortunate results:
Kate (left) and Abby crush a few children on their way down an inflatable slide.
How did Barncat wind up with 4 full-time interns this summer?Jami: There was a day back in January when I found myself screaming at the fax machine (um, it was jammed?). Only then did I realize that I was no closer to figuring out the next stage of life than I was the day I left my job at The Daily News, a year and a half earlier. It was the fax machine that tipped me off. I'm clever that way. Because when you are busy YELLING AT A FAX MACHINE (and occasionally bitch-slapping it), that's when you know things are not going well. My friend Florrie Brafman was on IM, so I consulted with her. JB: I've spent the past half-hour yelling at the fax FB: Interesting JB: I think I need help FB: Why don't you see Jane Celwyn. You know her, right? Now she's the dean of the Barnard Office of Career Development JB: What do they do there? FB: Perhaps it has something to do with developing careers JB: Hunh I'm proud to be a Barnard College alumna. Barnard accepts only the finest young women in the land. They also occasionally accept someone who grows up to scream at fax machines, but this, I believe, is why they call it "diversity." I met with Jane Celwyn in early February. By March, the former liberal arts major who still counts on her fingers was running a business. I am incorporated, I have my own banker (George), I have a corporate seal (although not much occasion on which to use it). I have attended things called "marketing seminars" and have bartered my book-doctor services for sessions with a business coach. On the day I decided to hire one of my writing students, Vanessa, as a managing director, I took down all the film books from the shelves in my office and put them in basement storage. This is a Barncat office now. In its first few months of existence, Barncat Publishing Inc. grossed $20,000. It's not as if the dean of Barnard's Career Development Office said, "Why don't you leave the fax machine alone and open a business?" All she did was raise interesting ideas, reframe my skills and gifts, and take me seriously. She did with me what I do with my writing students: She listened. And when you listen, you hear subtext. It was at one of our session that Jane mentioned TEIP. "You know about that, right?" she asked. Oh, sure. TEIP. Just refresh my memory? It was The Entrepreneurship Internship Program or something like that. Yes, Jane, I would like to have a summer intern. Not only an intern but a paid one. Paid for by someone not me. Jane helped me craft the ad that was blitzed all over campus that day. By the time I got home, three Barnard juniors had applied. “How about that tall one who got a soccer team together in one week?” I asked as Vanessa and I went over the results of the interviews. “Soccer? That’s Abby,” said Vanessa. “I like her too. But remember, she has a tongue ring.” Yecch. Am I too old school? All I can think about is tongue ring = infection. And who wears a tongue ring to a job interview? "I am willing to overlook the tongue ring if she can get us a soccer team's worth of clients in a week," I said. "And what about Danielle? She writes like a dream!” I couldn’t rule out the girls from Europe, even though only Vanessa spoke to them. Barncat deserved an international flair, and there was Francesca finishing a semester in Paris and Kate finishing one in Barcelona. We couldn't narrow it down. We liked them all, with the possible exception of the one whose credentials consisted of being a white girl who composed rap songs. We had barely put in an order for staff tongue ring when we were facing the prospect of conducting a Master Workshop in rap. “I wish we could take all of them,” Vanessa said wistfully. It was then that I had a brilliant idea. That’s why I get paid the big bucks. Or why I WOULD get paid the big bucks if there were Barncat bucks with any market value yet. The TEIP scholarship paid $3000 plus a free dorm room to a qualified intern who landed a qualifying job. But there was no fine print that said, in effect, one per customer. Was it possible to hire TWO interns? “As long as you have 30 hours a week of work for them,” said the woman from the TEIP office. Thirty hours? Barncat had 30-hour blocks of work up the wazoo. So to speak. Because we were not about to create a hostile environment for the young ladies by tossing around words like "wazoo." There was no particular cap on the number of interns who could qualify. And we had the requisite wazoo's worth of work waiting for them. And that is how Barncat got four full-time summer interns. We also tried for a fifth Beatle, Stephanie—the only one proficient enough in Dreamweaver to pry me from my CrackWeaver den. But Stephanie never returned our e-mails. We chose Danielle, Abby, Francesca and Kate. And then we went and got massages.
Coming soon:
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her own book project, her two small kids, a commute from hell, and Barncat's four full-time summer interns. But can she manage Jami?
