What Will Become Of The Ladies of The Night?

There are prostitutes in my neighborhood. Apparently quite a few. My neighbors spend all day talking about them. Have multiple social network groups where they discuss how to deal with them. Where they live. How they proposition people and their children. How they’ve taken to calling them into the non-emergency police line every single time they see them.
If you see something say something they say. Along with a bunch of other racist, sexist, transphobic, and misogynistic language. And I don’t know if it’s the isms or the fact that I try to mind my business that has me cringe whenever I read the posts on NextDoor right under a post about free events for children at the library and above posts looking for a decent electrician.
I think of how most prostitues are made. How people steal children enslave them, get them hooked on drugs and alcohol, use them up for sex slavery and then throw them away like discarded pieces of paper.
I think of how most prostitutes are made. How husbands beat wives, beat boyfriends, beat girlfriends, and children. How they escape from that abuse to another location. How these people with little to no skills or ways to make money to feed themselves and their families except the easiest thing to sell on earth which is the one thing (or things) that are always on your person.
I think of how prostitutes are made. How people who own themselves decide to sell themselves cause that’s what the fuck they want to do.
I wonder which of my neighbors who complains about them is secretly seeing these ladies of the night. Because in the service industry people don’t build businesses in places where they can’t make any money and sure there is easy access to the highway and multiple things in the neighborhood to make these particular corner dwellers more marketable but most successful businesses don’t setup where they can’t benefit from the local traffic.pexels-photo-206381.jpeg
Every time I see a certain neighbor who has a “police car” and uses it to breed fear in individuals they deem as criminal, post about them, I think to myself that either he got the clap from one back in the day, his mama was a prostitute, or his life is so meaningless that he has time to actually ride around in a car that looks like a cop car with the sole intention of scaring and harassing people.
It’s funny because I wonder what my neighbors would have the police do with the prostitutes. Should they kill them? Ship them somewhere else so they can become a blight onto someone else’s neighborhood. Take them somewhere so that they can get help for the multitude of issues that lead to prostitution?
I know that crime such as prostitution brings home values down and that something should be done about the crime in our area but I can’t help but wonder why I never see anyone comment about the many white collar crimes that are surely happening in our neighborhood. Or why no one seems to notice that my next door neighbors are probably running a meth lab out of their home and have different cars all up in through their place at all hours of the day and night. Probably because their complexion and age grant them a certain amount of privilege where they can get away with all sorts of shit and still have people say, “They were always so nice. So normal. Unlike those transexual prostitutes on the next corner.”

Boss Lady Rule #217 Relationship Banking

Boss Lady Rule #217 Put your money in places where they actually give a fuck about you and your money.

In the past my money was at Bank of America and a few other bigger banks and I’ll say that the only benefit is being able to walk into a bank branch in most parts of the country. With things like being able to deposit a check over your phone and banks allowing you to use other banks atms for free, I don’t even know if that perk is as large as it used to be.

Now, I bank at a few local banks where I have personal bankers, the tellers know me and my business and I have access to information, education, and support that I never knew were even possible.

I’ve profited from things that everyone should benefit from with their banks. Such as, the tellers calling me when someone comes in to cash a check to make sure that I actually wrote it (me and my horrible ass writing) or even a call /text to tell me to trans
fer funds because a big purchase went through quicker than I anticipated. Which saves me money on things like bounced check fees. (Cause who wants to deal with that shit when you actually have the money to cover it.)

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I also have a banker who actually sits down with me and looks at my business, my finances, and my accounting not only to make sure that everything is correct but because it’s so much easier to qualify for products and services like lines of credit to hold you over during tough cash flow times when everything is categorized and reflecting correctly before you need them.

What does a bank get out of this? If they groom you and your business to be good with your money and your money grows, they’ll make money off of you. It’s kind of like a win win. Duh. (Yes BOA that’s some shade tossed at you.)

These are just a few ways that I have benefitted from Relationship Banking with Local Community Banks. I hope they can help you.

High Quality Problems

Feels like,
I can’t find an employee to save my life
Like they all lying
won’t tell you the last place let them go cause they got a problem
that sometimes those problems show up in the middle of the day for no good god damned reason
Like they all wanna be paid $2,673, 412.18 just to show up
mostly on time
won’t look you in the eye when you ask simple questions
you just own the place
just can’t relate
just never had to work from paycheck to paycheck
got no clue how to make a dollar stretch
like yo back don’t ache
like you don’t sometime when it’s cold pay them, cash yo check and put it right back in to cover theirs
like what’s a weekend
the time you spend scouring the internet looking for qualified employees
who only gon’ look down on you
you young/black/girl
can’t possibly know shit
also, who gave you this place: your daddy. your husband. you had to sleep with somebody
Like, you ain’t had enough problems
couldn’t figure out your place in this world
decided to make your own
decided to depend on the honest and talented hands of men who got more problems than a little bit
Like, can’t talk to nobody
who gon understand
who ain’t listening to you thinking you are lucky they showed up
who aint judging you for discussing yo high quality problems
Feels like,
I can’t find an employee to save my life
wouldn’t trade it for the world
wouldn’t wish my high quality problems on no body
specially if they needed it to save theirs
2/30

Hell Yes to Working Vacations!

If you ask me how my vacation is going I will tell you AMAZING. If you follow that up with “Oh yeah, what have you guys been doing?” You will be surprised at my answer: SLEEPING, EATING, RELAXING…WHATEVER THE FUCK WE WANT.

For most people traveling to foreign countries is all about being a tourist; exploring, taking in the sites, sounds, and experiences of the regions. And,  don’t get me wrong we’re doing that too, but really we’re doing WHATEVER THE FUCK WE WANT. Which is mostly to sleep, take long baths, wake up when we’re ready and watch movies. (All of which we don’t have the privilege of doing often at home.)

And because we’re (AB and myself) serial mompreneurs with two auto repair shops and a business services start up, and I’m a writer with a new book floating around the world, we’re working many hours of each day on our businesses. But there’s something about employees having to figure shit out on their own without calling, texting, or slacking you every five seconds, that makes working remotely so much more FUN and Productive.

There’s something very powerful about being reachable but unreachable at the same time. About sleeping in and still waking up 6 hours before your employees. About decreasing the screening process for potential new employees and realizing that all of the time you spend vetting people over the phone is a waste of time. That removing yourself from the process and letting the manager find out that people are either qualified or unqualified or batshit crazy once the person shows up for the interview, is a much better use of everyone’s time. Especially yours.

So far I’ve been to Amsterdam, France, and Germany and I’ve enjoyed each place tremendously while still getting shit done so YES, HELLLLLL YES to working vacations. If it weren’t for the boy, I would think twice about returning home. I lie it’s cold I need to eventually go home but I’m going to be a changed entrepreneur when I get back.

Reasons I Didn’t Text You Back But You Saw Me On Facebook.

Frequently from “friends” I get the dreaded question “Why didn’t you text me back?” on one of my Facebook or other Social Media posts forcing me to respond “When?”

Because, I likely don’t remember the text and more than likely don’t care about it. Not because I really don’t care about it but because instead of that person texting me back to ensure that I received it they wait around for the right post to ask on the internet. LIKE THEY DON’T HAVE MY DAMN PHONE NUMBER. Which they obviously do because, “Why didn’t you text me back?” means that there was a first text. Right?

Sooooo anyways here are a few reasons why I didn’t text you back. Hopefully I don’t hurt your feelings but if I do feel free to A: Unfriend me. or B: Cash Me Ousside.

Reason #67

I received it while I was doing other things read it, and either started to respond and got interrupted before I could send it or was busy and forgot about it by the time I finished reading it. (This is 98% of the reasons why.)

Reason #28

It wasn’t about money. Honestly I’m busy AF. I have three businesses, a wife, a child, a blog, a book and a bunch of other shit to do.  I have to prioritize. If it ain’t about the money I can’t give it too much of my brain space.

Reason #1

You were asking me for something and it wasn’t life or death. AND someone is always asking me for something which to be quite honest; is tiring AF.

Reason #44

The internet is my JOB. Most things I do on the internet are about business so while I HAVE to be active on the internet I don’t HAVE to be active in text messages.

Reason #2

I just didn’t want to. For whatever reason, I didn’t want to text you back. 

Those reasons are in no particular order and there are probably more but whilst I type this employees are calling, AB is Slacking me, DJ is texting me, and I have other shit to do. Hope this helps. If not send a text or two.

 

Ups/Downs 3.17.17

Today was a shitty fucking day. Things happened with an ex employee that I’m probably not supposed to talk about on the Internet which is a whole fucking problem in and of itself but I can say that dude was a FUCKBOI. Caps fucking locked.

 For close to two months I’ve felt like he held me hostage and I tried my fucking damndest to be professional about the situation because, unlike some people who are very short sighted , I play the long game. So I played his fucking game. And he still did fuckboi shit and quit in the most unprofessional of ways. And then today he and his raggedy ass, bitch ass, raising fuckbois for fun ass mama continued to try to rain on my fucking parade. 

Being the fucking Girl Boss that I am I pretty much ended the situation but every second of dealing with that shit  ate at my soul. So it’s not surprising to me that when I finally sat down for the day, my anxiety slowly crept up to panic attack on the floor of my dark closet hoping that neither my wife nor my son asks me what’s wrong cause my answer would be: EVERYTHING.

But it’s not. My day was actually great. I ran the shop next to my wife while simultaneously handling business for our other business, my networking Chapter, and our home.

 Really, I’m proud of Adrien because I am her and I don’t even know how the fuck she does it. Oh and while she was doing all of that shit she managed to figure out a way for Kitchen Table Literary Arts Center to convert more of their 1200 friends into fans on their Facebook page before they shut down their Yvonne Frederick page before the FUCKBOI of a Facebook shuts them down. 

So why if my day was really great am I typing this while hunched under a fuzzy throw on the floor of my dark ass clothes closet? Because I let a raggedy ass FUCKBOI and his bitch ass mama get all the way up under my skin. That’s why. 
Here’s a pic of me in a car making a face at Fuckbois and their bitch ass mamas. 

On the real: Death to Fuckbois 🖕🏾<- *middle finger emoji*

Randomness 11.29.16

I’m tired. Like “I’s tired bawse.” Tired

Darian is a privileged child who could easily turn into someone who suffers from affluenza. I’m working on preventing that with my entire being.

Being in business for oneself definitely requires a vagina. I know people like to brag about how big their balls are but I’ve seen enough porn to know that vaginas are the stronger of the two. 

If I had the money I would totally hire a full time housekeeper and cook. Working all day, running around for Darian, running around for AB, running around for the shops, and doing everything else I do is pretty damn hard. A housekeeper and a cook would be so perfect right about now.

My grandma is in the hospital. Scared shitless doesn’t even begin to describe how I feel right now.

I really want some caramel popcorn from Garrett’s or some place equally as good. *crosses fingers and asks the Universe*

I believe in God. And the Universe. And Allah. And Buddha. And. And. And. 

Speaking of Gods, Religious fanatics scare the shit out of me. Especially Christians because they’re so widely accepted that people don’t even question half of the craziness they spout.

Left Right Center and Friendsgiving are all that are right with the world. 

I won’t comment on how the future president is a four year old with a wifi connection. A rich four year old with lack of self control. The type of kid who kicks his mom and calls her a bitch at McDonalds when she only lets him get two packets of BBQ sauce for his chicken nugget happy meal. The kind of four year old who calls his dad by his first name and pisses on the floor of the towel aisle of Target because he wants “a fucking toy now Brad!!” The type of kid who slaps the maid in her face when she won’t let him pour milk all over the place. Yup. That’s the future president of this company.

This Ancestors shirt is the Business.