There are two names under which The Store is incorporated. Wednesday I opened up two letters from my parents' longtime accountant. They are Articles of Dissolution. Basically you fill out this form, pay the State Secretary $35, and The Store is no more.
When I told Mother about this -- I had to, there was no way I could just deny they weren't mailed -- she told me the following: Fill out and sign their names (my folks each head up one of these names); fill out and forge their signatures on two checks, copy those Articles and the two checks, and mail them out -- fast. That last part is funny: I was part dazed over what this meant to The Death Of The Store, part not paying attention to Mother. And either she needed to get my attention or, possibly, she knew how I felt about saying goodbye to The Store and forced me to snap out of it, because all of a sudden she was stern towards me: "You listen to me! Send it, now!"
You know, I understand that there might be some time issues with sending in the Articles. I can reasonably assume that if they get to the state some time after the New Year, they have to pay money they don't want to pay. But you know, fuck that. Fuck what they're doing to The Store. I just find it ... disrespectful to a business that's given us so much. And besides, how much is it to renew a business license? Fuck, I'll pay for it! I won't do anything with it, but at least The Store will be alive! And besides, I did not appreciate Mother yelling at me again.
So that's why, instead of doing what she said and filling out the forms and checks that night before bed, I fucking sandbagged that and filled them out the next day instead. And then, because of ... oh, I don't remember, I didn't send it Thursday.
I thought about not sending it Friday (yesterday), either. That's how sad I am over sending these Articles of Dissolution. You don't come back from this. But if I waited until Monday, there's a remote chance that they don't get postmarked for 2012. Plus, I'm not absolutely sure the post office delivers New Year's Eve. And I could have waited until Saturday (today), but I might've forgotten to send it in, and then I fall into potentially sending it Monday, when it might be too late, and yadda-yadda-yadda.
So, Thursday, I thought I'd just copy the forms at the library across the street from the gym I planned to work out in that evening. However, I was wrong about the hours, and the library was closed by the time I drove over. I took that as a sign; Friday (yesterday) evening I went to the library to finally make those copies, but I figured I wouldn't rush myself in order to drop off the forms (along with some Vegas payments) by the time the local post office has last pick-up at 5.
I was dinkin' around the Internet, primarily Facebook, when I checked my phone. It was a foreign number. at first I ignored it, but then I realized -- it's the Skype number from my sister. Why is she calling me on a Friday evening? I was kind of out the the door by then, which was about a quarter to 5, but I needed to contact her in case something happened to Grandmother, which was the first thought that crept into my mind.
While bolting out of the library and tried reaching my sis on my cell; couldn't get through. I guess you can't Skype through the phone, or something. My mind was racing, but I thought that since I was already leaving, I might as well bite the bullet and drop the Dissolution Articles off at the mailbox. I did, and as I was driving away, I saw a mailman trundle up to the mailboxes, carrying one of their trademark hard plastic corrugated bins.
Getting home I e-mailed my sister urgently asking her to call me to let me know what's wrong. She didn't; instead, today I got an e-mail reply saying nothing's wrong, she just wanted to talk. Meanwhile, with that looming problem out of the way, I just realized that was complicit in the closing of The Store. The family corporation, the mom-and-pop operation that not only provided us with a means of living but also our identity that was not given to us by any other person or company, is just about gone. And I was the messenger who sent out the death warrant.
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