After Doug and I returned home from that first afternoon of delivering eggs with Dad as our unexpected driver and co-deliveryman, we were completely unprepared for his next question: “How much bigger could we make this egg route if we really worked at it?
Doug and I looked at each other. Dad had said “we.”
He had a plan. Continue reading “Eggman — Part 6…The Next Generation”
When I left for college in 1961, I bequeathed the egg route, then at 160 dozen per week, to my younger brother Doug. He was almost 12. But when I came home for winter break, the route had declined to 100 dozen. It was too much for him to handle…not to mention the strain driving him around put on Mom, who was nine-to-fiving as a offset print worker for the Oxnard school system. There was little I could do to revive Doug’s waning business except cheerlead and chauffeur.
Points of interest on the accompanying chart:
[1] Steve leaves for college; Doug forgets to deliver the following week. Some customers quit.
[2] Doug resumes deliveries, but temporarily misplaces route book. Working from memory, he overlooks some customers. More defections.
[3] Steve comes home in December. Doug is surprisingly pleased to have his older brother back.
[4] Steve reconnects with high school friends; leaves Doug on his own again. Continue reading “Eggman — Part 5…Mergers & Acquisitions”
After many months of deliveries, most neighbors became accustomed to seeing the Cotler brothers on bicycles, towing their Radio Flyer egg wagon. A few unimaginative churls thought it insanely humorous to yell, “Hey, Eggman! Gimme two dozen!” every time we rode by, but the unpredictable wagon-chasing dog was our bête noir.
The worst crack-up (pun intended) came on a fair spring day. Continue reading “Eggman — Part 4…Dog and Egg Sandwich”
With its motto “We Sit Securely on Our Assets,” the Outhouse National Bank strove to offer the finest service to its only depositor, my 10-year-old brother Doug. It was open 24/7 for deposits, almost all of which were imprest as a result of the superior judgment of the 15-year-old employer of said brother. It was mere coincidence that said employer was also the owner of the bank.
After a few weeks, Doug had accumulated a substantial two-figure account balance in the Outhouse National Bank. Continue reading “Eggman — Part 3…Outhouse National Bank”
Three weeks after beginning my egg route, my weekly delivery had increased to nearly 150 dozen. It only took two after-schools to deliver the eggs, and I was netting over $30 each week, more than $4.25/hour. With the minimum wage at $1.55/hour, I, only 15, had found the chicken that laid the Golden Egg. Of course I intended to expand further, so I needed to find a low-paid worker to help me. He was right in front of me, watching cartoons, a thin line of drool connecting the corner of his mouth with his chin: my 10-year-old brother, Doug. Continue reading “Eggman — Part 2…Expanding the Business”
“Hello. My name is Steve Cotler. Each week I go out to a ranch in the country and pick up fresh eggs and deliver them in this area at a price within a penny or two of store prices. Of course, these eggs are much fresher than store eggs because I pick them up and deliver them the same day. This week, as I finish my route—I deliver to Mrs. Jones across the street and Mrs. Brown down the block—I find that I have a few dozen left over. Since I only want to sell the freshest eggs, I’d be happy to offer them to you at half-price. Would you like to try some really fresh eggs?”
This was my pitch. I was 15. Continue reading “I Really Was the Eggman — Part 1”