A Life of Business: A Novel

By K. Arnold

Karl Monrad was born in a small Oregon town and was raised by his father. He had several different jobs when he was high School. He flunked out college and he learned he suffered from a rare brain disorder that prevented him from reading material; however, he could understand the material when read to him. His father urged him to go to college and to get a good job; his disorder prevented him from finishing college or finding work. He started his own business of bartering mineral-rich lands and gradually became the owner of a successful cement company, partly due to patent pending being denied. His beautiful wife and college girlfriend, who hated each other, both helped him become the owner of the largest cement company in the country. In the end, he was disabled; and his girlfriend, protected his empire from wall street scavengers.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Jul 7, 2022
• ISBN: 9781665562317

K. Arnold

K. Arnold was born in Oregon and went to school in Oregon and Pennsylvania obtaining degrees in Engineering. He then worked in Houston Texas for an oil company for his entire career. He started writing in 2002 as a hobby and enjoyed it. His first book ‘Sometimes Things Just Happen’ is a nonfiction book about the evolution of the planet, man, and modern civilization, targeted at the high school level. He also wrote a brief history of East Texas and the city of Houston. ‘A life of business’ is his first novel followed by a second, ‘Race to the Top’ about the life of a successful businesswomen. His recent works have not yet been submitted for publication. He is currently writing a third novel.

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2022 K. Arnold. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Published by AuthorHouse 06/24/2022

ISBN: 978-1-6655-6230-0 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-6655-6231-7 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2022911070

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models,

and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

CONTENTS

CHAPTER 1 Meet Craig

CHAPTER 2 A New Opportunity

CHAPTER 3 Meet Cass

CHAPTER 4 Restart

CHAPTER 5 Past Revisited

CHAPTER 6 Rock Crusher

CHAPTER 7 Meet Liz

CHAPTER 8 Liz Steps In

CHAPTER 9 Upsets

CHAPTER 10 Tenth Anniversary

CHAPTER 11 Eyes for the Future

CHAPTER 12 Grow by Merger

CHAPTER 13 Overseas Trip

CHAPTER 14 Liz’s Men

CHAPTER 15 Patent Application

CHAPTER 16 Board Meeting

CHAPTER 17 Plant Upgrades

CHAPTER 18 Asset Sales

EPILOGUE

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MEET CRAIG

CHAPTER 1

Craig just turned 17 and he should, God willing, enter high school next September. He lives in a fast-growing Oregon town far away from any major city. He has a summer job driving a GMC twin axle dump truck hauling gravel from a quarry to a new subdivision. He is reasonably bright and curious about most things. At six foot one and 220 pounds, most people consider him good looking.

Truck Driver

Craig and others are hauling granite to be used for road-base…a new road is under construction for a new subdivision. His 12-yard load weighs heavily on the truck chassis and he frequently needs his air brakes to negotiate city traffic. When he reaches the construction site he pulls up behind another truck, he is second in line to make his dump. He jumps out of the cab and checks the chains that restrain the tailgate to a 4-inch opening; he had set them just after he loaded at the granite quarry; he is double checking. If they were not set, his entire load would end up in a large pile in the middle of the road, road building would come to a halt, and he might well be fired. He walks forward to the truck in front of him; it is a smaller truck, 10 yards with side boards. It’s also owned by his boss…the truck he used up until a week ago, when he graduated to the Jimmy. And the Jimmy is a big thing in the small world of duel axle dump trucks.

Craig yells to the driver who he just met last week, Hey Floyd, I’m going to make another load...you game? They had to work together because they both use the same front-end loader at the granite quarry. He was just learning to operate the loader and is not too efficient; he will learn in a few more weeks...if he stays on the job. He is anxious to learn because drivers who load themselves save a lot of money for their boss. He is also loading Floyd’s truck…that should impress his boss and secure his employment. He is the team leader of a two-man team. However, it felt strange to be the leader of a 2-truck detail when he just learned to load trucks a month ago.

Floyd responds. Yeah, I’m in; man can I use the extra money...another characteristic of truck drivers. While they make a union wage, they are usually short of money. Craig waves to his fellow employee and goes back to his truck.

When he gets to the head of the line the checker waves him on...it is his turn to dump. Confidently he moves onto the roadway and stops, engages the dump lift, and puts the transmission into 1st gear (out of six forward). He accelerates to 1500 RPMs on his tachometer which moves the truck at 5 MPH. He unlocks the tailgate safety and glances at the road passing beneath the truck while steering a line between the pink stakes ahead. When he sees the end of the granite pass under his front wheel (plus a few feet), he pulls the tailgate dump lever. As he drives forward at constant speed the of granite is spread on the road, about 6 inches deep, for about 50 yards. The front end of his truck gets lighter and lighter as the granite flows out and a six-foot-wide layer is laid on the road. About one half the load has dumped when his bed is angled almost 60 degrees up; he kicks out the bed lift and continues moving until his entire load has emptied. When empty he slowly the bed. He then stops, jumps out and checks that the entire load is out, and that the tail gate has fully closed. Occasionally a granite chunk will prevent the tailgate from completely closing and must be manually removed. That is tricky; more than one dump truck driver has a few broken fingers; they failed to keep them out of the way when the tailgate is released, and slams shut. As he drives away, he sees a smooth layer of granite evenly spread, and ready for grading. He smiles. And says to himself...damn good job, man. It took him many loads to learn, and, in his humble opinion, no one spreads granite better. As he drives back by the checker, the checker smiles...he is also impressed with the young drivers work. He will give his boss Tex the good words; few drivers are as good or as conscientious. He needs to teach his coworker Floyd... his work needs improvement.

Craig returns to the quarry and loads out Floyd and his own truck with the loader fitted with a one-yard bucket. It took at least 25 somewhat-full buckets to load out his truck...he still had a lot to learn on the loader. On the way off the mountain, he is pleased that it was his last load, 9 loads in just over 8 hours. Not a record for him, but better than the average for the trucks owned by his boss. He returns to road under construction and spreads his last load for the day.

Instead of driving back to the yard where the trucks are kept, he drives home, showers, and then drives to the high school’s softball field. He is on a church team which competes in a city-wide softball league. He only wished he played ball as well as he drove his Jimmy truck. In fact, he plays second base because his throwing arm is not good enough for outfield positions. But he is pleased...this was the first time he showed up in the Jimmy, or any other truck, and his peers are both curious and, he suspects, envious. He has a good paying job while many of them are mowing lawns, he is well paid, and the others know it. They were envious, but that was not the only reason he was smiling; he is maintaining his reputation as an achiever.

Earlier Years

Many years earlier, Craig is living in a working-class neighborhood in his hometown. His mother died several years ago giving birth to his would-be little sister...both died within hours of the birth.

His father was devastated by his wife’s death and spent weeks in morning. He lost his job and stayed by himself for months; shortly he decided that he must care for Craig who without him is an orphan. Craig was also shaken, but quickly rejoin normal activities with his friends. He was close to his mother and at age 7, he had little understanding of implications of what happened. Over the years her loss became very real to him. Among other things he was forced into a strained relationship with his father with no real outlet. While Craig wanted relief from his pain over his mother’s death, he had no idea how to deal with it and he had no help from his father.

As Craig grew older his father never dated and showed no interest in bringing another woman into his life. Each year he asked Craig to do additional household chores, like washing dishes and vacuuming the floors: I’ve got a full-time job and need your help. Craig took on the new chores usually without complaint. We need a good breakfast each morning. Please take responsibility for preparing our breakfast. I’ll take care of dinner.

Ah, what will I prepare?

What every you like...buy the food and put it together each morning.

Craig replied, I don’t have any money.

His father then had the first of what he called fatherly talks. They usually began with the same words, Look son, we’ve got to pull together to meet our daily needs. You do things and so do I. For now, I’ve put some money in this cookie jar for your use, but you also have to contribute as soon as you have some change. And I mean like soon. Think about odd jobs you can do for others...that pay a little something. It will add up and you’ll take pride in paying your fair share."

Craig is both concerned and confused; he mutters, And what is my fair share?

Well son, there are two of us...one half would be fair.

Craig wonders, what does his father do with his money...will it be going goes into the damn cookie jar? Of course, not... but he didn’t dare express his thought out loud. His father has become tough and insensitive since his mother died. Will he beat me if I challenge him? Probably not. but do I even know him anymore? Did I ever?

Newspapers and Old Joe

A few kids Craigs knew delivered newspapers to earn money. He knew of a man known as ‘Old Joe’ who distributed newspapers each morning. He also had a regular job and might like help with the newspapers. All he knew about the newspaper job was that it was a major paper published in Portland and shipped all over the state. Early one morning he ran into Old Joe downtown distributing papers.

Sir, my name is Craig...tell me about your newspaper business. Can use some good help?

Sure kid...I assume you’re looking for a job, but you don’t want this one...it hardly pays for me to show up.

Maybe I could help you expand your business?

Not likely. He searches his pockets, pulls out a small can of tobacco, a paper rap, and rolls a short poorly formed cigarette. You got a match.

While discouraged Craig is beginning to feel sorry for the old man. He pulls out a small lighter he uses at home to light the kitchen gas stove. Here, have a light...and keep the lighter.

Thanks...you’re a good kid. Craig then asks, Tell me about your newspaper business.

Pretty simple. They drop off papers, and I distribute them. Some go to the vendor racks and some to the regulars. I collect the money from the regulars and deposit the money I owe the bosses in their bank account...just down the street. They get half the cost of the papers whether I sell them or not...I get what little is left.

So you get half of what you collect?

Yeh, about that...they give me a few free papers, but that’s not money unless I sell the damn things. And day-old newspapers ain’t worth shit...If I hustle, I make a few bucks. Then he mumbles, but I’m getting too damn old to hustle.

Craig continues talking to the old man, showing more interest than he really feels. His business is declining; however, Craig has a few ideas on how it might be expanded. He decides he will give it a go...if he can get the old man to go away and if his father will cooperate. First things first. He begins to reenforce the old man’s negative views suggesting he was just wearing himself out for nothing. If he put the same effort into selling fireplaces, his other job, he would likely come out ahead. Craig was doing something he does very well...selling his ideas to others.

Finally, he pitched the old man: I’ll take over your loyal customers and treat them very well and I’ll promote your fireplace business with a small sign on the street racks. You might actually make more money.

The old man slowly nods and says, I’m interested, but will have to think about it. Craig responds: Good, see you here tomorrow, same time? The old man nods and walks away.

Craig then formulates a plan to get his father’s cooperation. He needs to fix up an old bicycle he has at his shop and equip it with racks to hold papers. Old Joe walked all over a small section of town, he will ride over two- or three-times the territory. And he will have at least one paper rack in and around his father’s location where there are several service businesses that have customers waiting for their goods. He would also ask him to construct maybe 20 more paper racks which included slots for him to insert paid advertising. He will place the existing racks nearer customer foot traffic...restaurants, stores, services stations...rather than beside busy roads where people are not inclined to stop and get out of their vehicle.

Will his father cooperate. He sure as hell better...if he wants any money in the cooky jar. He felt good about his plan for the business and was somewhat enthusiastic. But the hard work was ahead. When Craig told his father about his plan and expected earnings, his father said, without smiling, Well son, $100 a week; that’s not much money, but I’ll help with the racks. How about putting an ad for my business on the paper racks?

"Sure, you make the new racks...I’ll put your ad in the slots.

Initially, Craig had a hard time making a $100 per week. However, several months later he cleared $400 in a single week. It took lot of work and he had exhausted his early ideas...and enthusiasm. He got to know other paper boys, at least most of them were boys. A paper route with the local paper became more appealing particularly after school starts. He had to get up at three in the morning to make his target money on his current route...and profits were slowly declining. The local paper is an afternoon edition which would be less demanding and require fewer total hours...and he might make more money if he gets a good route.

The Woodshed

The houses in Craig’s neighborhood all have similar features. They are small two bedrooms and are on relatively large lots. Those lots include an expansive back yard; an alley runs behind the lots for the length of a very long block. The backdoor of the houses is on the side with access to both the front and back area. Essentially all the lots have a shed in the back, located on the alley. However, what the occupant does with the shed varies widely. Craig and his father use theirs to store wood; they have wood burning stoves for both cooking and heating; central air conditioning was not heard of at least not on their block nor in their town for that matter. Quite a few converted their back shed into a one car garage. A few, like their neighbor Bob converted it into a two-room apartment.

Bob was a carpenter, and he converted his shed in his spare time. He married a few years ago to an attractive, petite, woman and they lived in the front house. His father said Bob made a good living as a carpenter...until recently when he mangled one hand and could not work. After six months he still had little use of his hand and he claimed it was a permanently disabled.

After his injury Bob and his wife moved into the back apartment and rented out the front. His wife was clearly not happy living in the two-room apartment. They frequently argued and Craig distinctly remembers one fight when he bodily threw her out. She left shortly after that, and his father said she filed for divorce. She wasn’t a very good woman to leave her man when he is down. Or so his father said.

One day Craig climbed over the wire fence separating their lots and peeked in the windows of the small apartment; it was a large double window. Looking in he saw both rooms with the wall separating them extending toward the window. But it stopped short giving a passageway between the rooms. He was surprised, both rooms were messy, and one had not been swept for some time. There was a big bed in one room but few other furnishings. What surprised him most was that the walls were not finished...many of the studs were clearly visible; the ceilings were covered with plaster board but were not painted. It occurred to Craig that his father may have been wrong about Bob’s carpentry skills, and it appeared that Bob’s wife may have had reasons to leave. He did not tell his father the condition of the so-called apartment.

One day Craig had a special chore. As he walked to the shed, he waves to Bob, wood day. They receive about three or four loads of wood during the spring and summer, and it is stacked in the shed for year around use. The wood comes from the mill already cut into small blocks; they are a byproduct of turning logs into lumber. Craig saw the mill operation on a school visit; it is a big part of the economy of the region, and the northwest in general depends on the lumber industry. The first step in the milling process is to mount large, prepped logs between 1 and 3 feet in diameter, queued up on a huge table. Then a large band saw runs back and forth cutting off two-inch slices on the way to becoming 2x4’s, 2x6’s, etc. The woodman gets his loads by collecting leftovers from the milling process from the mills in the area. The actual shape of the wood pieces varies widely; they are all 2-inch-thick but cut in different shapes. Preferred blocks are near square pieces with only minor bark remaining; however, a delivery man gets what he can and sometimes takes a lot of heat from his customers. This shit won’t stack; or I’m not paying for bark...take it back. Of course, he never does, but the customer feels better if he complains.

Craig goes to the ally side of the alley side of the woodshed and clears any debris between the two shed windows. There is always something to clear, some people throw or dump small amounts of trash as they drive down the alley; that aggravates Craig. He then goes inside the shed and opens the large, 2x3 foot, solid wood windows on the alley side. Remaining wood blocks from prior loads are then restacked on one side leaving room for the new blocks thrown through the windows openings. He stares at the windows on the house side of the shed. He has repeatedly asked his father to build wood covers for the windows so that they will not be broken by wood blocks thrown much harder than needed. His father said he will get to it...but hasn’t and probably won’t. He will have to do it himself someday...but not today.

He hears a truck rumble in the alley; the woodman is early. He goes out to talk with him. However, he is a new driver; he points to a vertical line between the two windows; Dump here. He then motions to him to back up to the line within two feet of the shed. He then carefully directs him, waving his arms, to the spot. He has done this often enough that the dumped load should be against the shed leaving some room, not much, for vehicles to use the alleyway. The woodman made a poor dump, leaving the ally totally blocked. Craig swears softly at the driver, Damn, now I’ve got to bust my butt to clear the ally this afternoon. The driver had no idea what he was talking about and drove off.

Blakey the Helper

Blakey lives just across the ally from the woodshed. He heard the wood truck and came over to help...as he usually does. He is a nice kid although a little retarded. Craig is sure of that but none of the neighbors ever talk about it. One day Blakey told him his mother opened a saving account at the bank that pays $3.00. Craig responds, You mean 3%?

Blakey say’s No, I mean three dollars. Blakey tends to get loud when he is unsure of himself...which is often. Another clue that his engine doesn’t run very fast is that he told Blakely yesterday about the wood and he looked surprised to see the wood truck when he came today...he apparently forgot in a single day.

Blakey is a nice kid and Craig likes him; when they were younger, they often played together. In fact, when he was six years old, he broke his arm when they were playing…he can’t forget the incident. The two of them were on an old single axle trailer next to Blakey’s garage. They would run to one end of the trailer bed and the trailer would tip up and then fallback as they ran back. Repeat over and over...it sounds stupid, but it seemed like fun at the time. And then the fun suddenly ended; Craig was somehow tossed off the trailer and fell directly on his arm; he knew he was hurt because the pain and his arm did not move when he tried to lift it. And then it began to hurt like nothing he had ever felt before. They both knew he needed help and Blakey got his mother. She took him to the nearby hospital and called his father. That stuff he remembers, but when at the doctor’s office he passed out; maybe they gave him something or maybe he just passed out...he really doesn’t remember. Later he told everyone that they shot him with a big needle.

It was a serious break, high on his arm, and close to his shoulder joint. His father showed concern, and commented, Look son, that was a pretty stupid thing to do. They made him wear the cast for almost six months. Of course, he had to show it off to the neighborhood kids. Initially his hand was swollen, and he could barely wiggle his fingers. About a month after the fall, he was relieved when he could give a neighbor a robust middle finger. In the future he would have several other serious injuries, but not off a stupid trailer.

Yes, Blakey was a friend...and of course he showed up to help with the wood. Without a word they began throwing in the wood blocks. Initially only about two thirds of them went through the windows: well, maybe a half of Blakey’s, most of his. The fact that the blocks had different weights made it more difficult...he told Blakely. Come on Blakey, hit that hole or my dad will make us repaint the side of the shed. And he would have, they already had the paint. As they made progress their tosses were shorted and there was no excuse for missing, but a few more did. Fortunately, none of the wood squares were thrown hard enough to pass through the shed and break windows on the other side.

Throwing in wood is a boring activity. With Blakey beside him he remembered that his dad is, or was, a log truck driver taking newly cut trees to the sawmill. He was prohibited from driving after receiving a couple of DWI tickets. A logging truck is very long when loaded, carrying logs over 60 feet long. In this region the logs are usually long and straight, unlike those in the rest of the country. When running empty, the trailer is loaded on the back of the truck with the long trailer tongue stretching over the cab...funny looking, but quite common in logging country. His father could no longer do logging work and intended to sell his truck.

In younger years he and Blakely would play on his father’s logging truck parked beside their house. With its trailer stacked, there were lots of footholds to use to climb in, around, and on top of the truck. They also sat inside the cab and pretended to be truck drivers. The air brakes on the truck have the sound of air rushing out just after being engaged. Also switches and buttons that did things like turn on lights and fans, and two transmissions, with 8 gears forward and 2 back. At the time it was great fun, simulating a heavy load (3-7) of logs. Their fun on the truck came to an end one day when they left the cab with several devices turned on. When his father wanted to show the truck to a prospective buyer it would not start. They both caught hell and were banned from further logging adventures. Blakey was probably retarded but yes...he was a good friend.

After receiving the load of wood, one of the initially blocked cars was Sheri’s...it was actually her bothers that she occasionally drove when he wasn’t around. It was a neat car, lowered, chopped, and channeled, with dual pipes and hollowed out mufflers. At least that is what she said...Craig didn’t know what some of the words meant. He didn’t know Sheri very well either. She was usually in a flashy dress and looked very sexy; but not today, she must have been visiting her grandmother. But she was chatty...wanting to know all about the wood gathering and storing he was doing.

The next day Blakey wasn’t available, and he began stacking the wood by himself; the wooden windows are now closed and will remain closed until the next load of wood. The first step was to move the wood bocks thrown in the windows away from the alley wall to make room for the new rows of wood. There was plenty of light in the shed due to a pair of 3x4 foot windows facing the house. Given the unevenness of the blocks, the first row needed to lean against the alley wall and then the next row leaned against the prior row.

Sheri in the