Category: CFO Folklore

One CFO’s Personal Tools for Frustration Relief


So, my fellow CFO’s and Controllers, as promised in my previous post, here are the few tricks I use to privately release my frustration after calmly presenting the composed image to the rest of the world.  They are in no specific order.  I pick whichever feels right at a particular moment.

(1.)  Go to the washroom, enter a stall, close your eyes and start cursing.  Five minutes of swearing usually gives a tremendous relief.  The volume doesn’t really matter.  If raising your voice helps you personally and you are sure nobody is around, go ahead.  For me, however, loud whispering (the way actors whisper on stage, so that everyone can hear them), works the best.  The dirtier the better.  Just pretend that you are in a Martin Scorsese or Quentin Tarantino movie.  If you know other languages, use all of them.  Remember, don’t call the objects of your frustration by their names, but keep their faces in front of you mentally.

(2.) This release method is not my original.  It was shared with me by one of my European colleagues and she has learned it from someone else – I am sure it’s been passed on from one generation to another.  I can vouch that it works like a charm.  You have to create a “Page of Frustration.”  Draw some monster on it, something absolutely revolting.  Your artistic abilities make no difference.  You can ask a child to draw it for you.  The most important thing is to write the title and the destruction instructions on the page.  For example:  “Page of Frustration.  In case of emergency, throw it on the floor and stomp it to shreds.”     For some people “viciously crumple and tear it into small pieces” seems to be more appealing.  Whatever works! Make yourself a stack of copies and keep them in your desk.  Make sure that you don’t run out!

(3.) Another useful inventory for a chronically frustrated CFO or Controller is a favorite treat.  Don’t get me wrong – the last thing I want is for anybody to become a closet eater, consuming large quantities of food in search of unattainable solace.  No!!!  That’s not what I am talking about.  I am talking about very small quantities of very small treats, eaten at a very slow pace: three of Godiva chocolate pearls, or five gummy bears, 1/2 oz of trail mix, etc.  Separate them into these small portions in advance, keep only few in your office and consume only as a release remedy.  It works more as a meditative solution than as aggression liberation, but sometimes that’s all you need.

(4.) On my Front Page Raison d’etre, I talk about the therapeutic effects of writing.  And I maintain that committing your grievance to paper is the best form of releasing frustration, tension, stress and anxiety.   You can do it in different ways.  You can pour your heart out in a diary.  You can pretend to write a letter or an email to the source of your pain (without sending them out, of course) describing the situation, verbalizing your feelings, expressing your concerns.  Or you can go a step further towards more satisfying resolution.  You can write that email and send it to me.  Not only that I will become the receptacle of your turmoil, but I will give it even bigger audience by sharing it with other CFO’s, Controllers, etc.

The Knee-Jerk Reaction to KPI’s Showing a Loss


Ren-and-stimpyI fucking LOVE how every time you give small business owners, who are usually personally responsible for commercial side of the business, bad news about the company's performance (i.e. report losses), the first thing they do is start looking for faults in accounting instead of strategically correcting their own buying/selling practices.

"Are you sure no extra/double costs were somehow recorded by accident?"

What the fuck is that even supposed to mean?  And yes, I am fucking sure!  I've only been doing this shit for 25 years!!  You, on the other hand, found out that accounting exists only 2 years ago, and I was the one who told you!!!

The same shit – company, after company, after company…  It's like a fucking natural instinct – the goddamn knee jerk.   

Small Business Crusader Presents: Slate Coffee Roasters


 

Espresso Deconstructed

Photo by © Yana Alexandra Crow

As I mentioned in my travel reflections, it is not enough to treat my visit to Seattle's Slate Coffee Roasters as just another thing I did during my trip to the West Coast in August.  The place definitely deserves its own dedicated post. 

I personally know espresso aficionados who are obsessed with Slate, and I can totally understand why:  Even if you are a jaded connoisseur, you will have a novel, unforgettable experience here.  From the very beginning, Slate's founders conceptualized their business out of three exceptional building blocks: niche high-quality raw materials, superior preparation techniques, and singular finished products.      

Conceived and founded by Chelsea Walker in a partnership with her brother and mother, Slate was born two years ago, in November 2011.  It started its life in an Airstream trailer strategically positioned in Seattle's Capitol Hill.  Now, transplanted to one of Seattle's northwestern neighborhoods, Ballard, the establishment continues to cultivate the same aesthetics of grace and elegance that inspired the founders to start the business in the first place.  It applies to everything: the offerings, the methods, the decor, the ambiance, the hospitality, even the service sets.          

What fascinates me the most is that this young woman did exactly what I advocate all young people to do.  She found something that she (a) feels the most passionately about; (b) has talent for; and (c) knows well how to do, both technically and commercially.  She utilized her reputation as an innovative espresso barista to solicit valuable advice from local coffee-business celebrities and went full force after her entrepreneurial dream, attacking the odds on all fronts: Her business model includes the wholesale of Slate's roasts to other coffee boutiques (so far 9 locations in Washington, California, Massachusetts, and Illinois), the online store selling the current selection of beans as well as a few signature coffee implements, a coffee subscription, and, of course, the bar itself, where you can experience the magic firsthand and then leave with a bag of the fresh roast you've just tasted.

Everything in Slate Coffee Roasters is unique.  The uncluttered decor complements the minimalist menu very well: There are no lattes, cappuccinos, macchiatos, frappes, and such other potions here.  The only espresso-based drinks you can get are, well, espresso – either neat or cut with milk, in various proportions.  The rest are hot or cold-brewed coffees – usually from no more than 3 or 4 sources.  The coffee bean is treated here as a tropical fruit that it actually is.  So, just like good wine makers, Slate folks pursue rich bouquets and go after small-batch sources that harvest the most flavorful products: a 1500-farmers estate in Kenya, a specific lot on a Panama estate populated exclusively by Gesha trees, an Ethiopian co-op, etc. 

The single-source beans are roasted in house twice a month in 15-kilo lots.  Slate abandoned the tradition of the deeply roasted espressos and goes light on the heat for the sake of preserving the flavors.  In order to provide the bar's customers with an unadulterated experience, no sugar or any other sweeteners are offered.  They use non-homogenized local-farm milk here – so sweet and real, you feel happy for the cows that gave it away, and the desire to taste it on its own motivates some people (me!) to order the full Espresso Deconstructed set twice in a row.  If you do like something solid to complement your espresso or coffee, you should try the hand-dipped in chocolate… no, not conventionally dried orange peels, but syrup-soaked fresh orange slices.  It only makes sense that these exquisite offerings are served in a bar (rather than the common coffee house) setting, with espresso presented in designer stemware.  Other straight coffees are brewed to perfection in a variety of methods expertly matched to specific beans.

Of course, when judged by the field's elite, this, for a lack of better words, artistic and somewhat rebellious approach to the provisioning of coffee-based beverages, elicits high recognition and praise: Many a West Coast barista know of Slate; the wonderful Brandon Paul Weaver, who's been at Slate from the start, won the 2013 North West Regional Brewers Cup; and Slate's team captured the title of America's Best Coffee House 2013 in Seattle, which, considering the city's history with the drink, is a feat, especially for such a young establishment.    

It goes without saying that all these elements set Slate apart from the rest of Seattle's coffee scene and theoretically should've given them a tremendous competitive advantage.  Yet, the company struggles commercially. And it is my strong opinion that it has a lot to do with its geographical location – not just the remote Ballard specifically, but Seattle altogether.  Of course, the bar has its own devotees, who come in all the time (some are even willing to fly cross-country just to feel the magical brews on their lips), but, generally speaking, there are simply not enough people to generate a steady stream of clientele to the counter.  There is no question in my mind that the good people of Slate would be so much better off  in a place famous for its unyielding hyperactivity.

Yes, New York City is the most competitive place on this planet.  And yes, it is especially true for the majority of food establishments – according to Business Insider, 80% of restaurants here close in their first year of operation.  It makes total sense to me: you've got to do something extraordinary to survive here as yet another deli, a French or Italian restaurant, a Japanese sushi bar, or a Chinese take-out.  That said, the field of designer espresso is pretty barren.  Well, we maybe have about 20 highly rated specialized places – a ridiculously small number for NYC!  Yet, people with really discriminating tastes still complain that it is impossible to get a good espresso in New York.

The top places in competitions and recognition by connoisseurs are great, but at the end of the day, for a consumer-dependent establishment it's all about the statistics of public exposure: the more people pass a place, the higher the number of those who will enter.  And only then can you start wowing them with your miracles, hopefully achieving a sufficient level of the customer retention:  In order to succeed a small coffee-bar business needs a steady 10-people line during the morning, lunch, and coffee-break rushes.  Alternatively, this particular business can position itself as an exclusive Art House of Espresso with people coming in specifically for the Slate's religious experience and willing to pay exorbitant prices for it.   Neither possibility, unfortunately, is going to present itself  in Ballard.   

To illustrate how the statistical probabilities are impacted by geographical locations, let me use an analogy from my recent music experience:  Royal Canoe, a great small band from Winnipeg, Manitoba (don't jump to Wikipedia – they are not there) primarily performs at alternative festivals and small peripheral venues with, let's say, 50-300 people capacity.  What is the probability that someone who sees them at The Garrison in Toronto (capacity 270) will go out of their way to attend their concert in Brooklyn?  I'd say, close to zero.  But on 09/14 they opened for Alt-J at NYC's Hammerstein Ballroom (GA Floor capacity 3400, plus galleries) and I know of at least 5 people (two independent groups), who went to Canada specifically to see them play again.  And there might have been more.  And even if only 10% of the live audience buys t-shirts and CDs, it translates to 27 music lovers in Toronto, but at least 400 in NYC. 

Numbers - they don't lie.  So, is it surprising that at this moment Slate has only 28 reviews on Yelp, while Lucid Cafe (even though a very nice place, but no award winner or espresso breath-taker) located 4 blocks from Grand Central has 93? 

What I hope for is that Slate's current operations will create enough momentum to ignite in owners the desire to solidify their success and branch out to the busiest spot in the world, the city that never sleeps and, therefore, is in a dire need of Chelsea Walker's heavenly concoctions.  Plus, we have the highest concentration of people who adore the high-end, luxurious, elite products and services.  So, see you in New York?!            

Related articles

Economic Reflections of a Traveling CFO

What Do Bosses Know About Their Employees?


1297457573478_ORIGINALWell, it varies from one boss to another, but one thing I can tell you for sure –nobody should ever expect a boss to bother learning who his subordinates are.  I mean as people. 

Yes, some overzealous HR pros in large companies paw through whatever material is made public by the social networking in pursuit of dirt, but  that's just "fact-finding" and gossip-mongering.  No, I am talking about a genuine human interest. 

In most cases there is none.  Watching all sorts of bosses interact with their employees I frequently wonder whether it registers in their heads that they deal with real people.  I think they subconsciously block this tiny detail out, so that they wouldn't feel guilty for being assholes.  So, how can you expect them to notice anything about your personality, if they see you as a cardboard cutout?  They are blind even to the most obvious manifestations of your existence outside of the workplace. 

You may belong to a weekend fight club and come to work every Monday with poorly covered bruises; or aspire to be the greatest drummer of all times and constantly bang your fingers on hard surfaces to some beats in your head; or know everything there is to know about existentialism and talk about it at length during office parties – none of it will be noticed: they see and hear it, but their minds reject it.  For them, you are still just Steve from Logistics, or Mike from Customer Service, or that girl from Accounting. 

Do I know for a fact that this sort of myopia exists?  Yes, I do.  My position as a financial executive and/or consultant allows me to observe various bosses in close proximity.  Over the years, I've collected a huge body of evidence to support my statements here.  But I can also vouch for their validity based on the incidents that involved me personally.  I'm not going to dwell here on the fact that none of my employers ever learned anything of my true motivations, ethical standards, or even why I work so hard and care so much.  Instead, let me share with you an instance of an inexplicable blindness.

I don't ever shove CFO Techniques into people's faces.  Being a book's author barely has any impact on consulting deals and it definitely has nothing to do with my CFO job.  But people do find out on their own: they connect with me on LinkedIn and see it on my profile, or they Google me, or whatever.  Normal people, not bosses.  A company's owner writes an email to one of his strategic financial partners with a copy to me: "Let me introduce our CFO M.G.  From now on, she is taking over all our M&A negotiations."  Apparently the fact that the three of us were at the same table during a corporate function has slipped his remembrance.  As per usual, I simply ignore it.  The external party doesn't:  "Not only that I've met Marina already, but I also keep her book on my desk."  The boss replies, "Oh yeah, I forgot, I introduced you, guys."  You may think that he deliberately ignored the part about the book, but I swear, he is not that devious – he simply blocked it out, didn't see it at all.    

And that's absolutely Ok.  Attentiveness is not a prerequisite to being a business leader and a jobs creator.  I'll take brilliance and perpetual drive to succeed over tact and personal involvement any day.  And I have to be honest – I'm not quite sure if I personally would've been as aware of people around me and familiar with some aspects of their lives if I weren't such an avid, life-long student of behavioral science.  At the end of the day, one can say that my interest is self-serving. 

Of course, sometimes it hurts just a bit that the people, for whom you work so hard, don't even care to learn who you are, but in the grander scheme of things we should not care – as I always say, every job is just another line on your resume.  Moreover, we should be grateful – we don't really want these people to know too much about us or our vulnerabilities.

That said, however, it is still pretty surprising when bosses are confused about most basic, most superficial facts about employees who worked for them for years.  Sometimes it brings about ludicrous, almost sketch-like dialogues.

A tragedy struck one of my subordinates: her Mom, only 55 years old,  died unexpectedly of a heart attack.  The girl has been with the company longer than me; she was originally hired by the CEO at the time when there were no other executive managers in the company at all – just owners and staffers.  The CEO shuffles into my office to reflect on the unfairness of life.

She said, "You know, it's so cruel: Shen's parents were the first-generation immigrants -  worked so hard to provide for the children!  And now, the kids are all grown up, married, educated - it was a time for her Mom to finally enjoy her life, and then this happened.  Just terrible!"

I listened to all that and agreed, "Yes, it's totally fucked up.  With respect to her Mom, it was Shen who was the first-generation immigrant.  Her parents got divorced when she was a little girl.  Shen came here 13 years ago with her farther and she didn't see her Mom for 8 years.  They missed each other terribly.  The girl was able to bring the mother here only after she herself came of age and became a US citizen.  They were together for only 5 years.  The Mom still worked 7 days a week to support herself, and now she is gone."

And here you have it, ladies and gentlemen: a boss's "reality" vs. truth.            

Economic Reflections of a Traveling CFO


It's one thing to sit in front of a computer screen and intellectualize about the irreversible deterioration of financial and social climates and the necessity for people to face the truth about the new economic reality.  It's a completely different thing to get your ass off the chair, pack your bags with some walking and hiking footwear, go away from your stomping grounds, and observe downhill changes in distant places.  Even without an elaborate analysis of economic indices you can pick up a lot of signals along the way.

It wasn't intentional (after all, the primary purpose of my traveling was leisure), but the states I visited represented an interesting mix: Washington, the state with the second highest average income of $41.5K; Oregon – the sixth lowest with $30.3K; and California – the fourth lowest with $29.8K (all the wealth of Silicon Valley moguls, Napa Valley nabobs, and Malibu celebrities cannot outweigh the endless number of unemployed and barely employed aspiring creative types).  It's like I journeyed down the geographical and fiscal routes.  A year ago I stopped in most of the same places, so it was unavoidable for my mind to register the most apparent changes. 

Seattle is a very special city.  Last year I summarized my impressions of it as calm and cool.  It has this aura of serenity about it. Yet, the place gave birth to Grunge (aka Seattle sound) – that's like fucking awesome, man.  The city's most prominent artist is the master of chilled glass flow – world-renown Dale Chihully.  Even local famous graves are the coolest: Jimi Hendrix and Bruce Lee.  It's not Bangkok (#1 travel destination this year), but there are plenty of tourists here, especially in and around the iconic Pike Place market and the Space Needle.  Many of these people are about to board cruise liners and explore the even crisper climates of Alaska.

The business person in me associates Seattle with, what I call, Zen entrepreneurship: they start small, but with great aspirations.  Some succeed in building long-lasting local fixtures, reassuringly there for you every time you come – like Jack's Fish Spot that has been serving the best crab in the world at Pike Place Market for over 30 years.  Others go on to materialize their national and international ambitions: The metropolitan Seattle is birthplace and still home to the headquarters of Nordstrom, Starbucks, Sur La Table, COSTCO, Amazon, Expedia, and Blue Nile among others. 

All that happened in the relatively recent past.  Now, the enterprising endeavors here are marked by a greater than ever sense of risk and uncertainty, and the new businesses mostly struggle to stay afloat as long as they can. 

Thanks to a recommendation from a local insider, I ventured into Ballard (Seattle's Williamsburg) with the specific purpose of visiting a cutting-edge, connoisseur-targeted Slate Coffee Roasters run by Chelsea Walker, who shares the company's ownership with her brother and mother.  (Her entrepreneurship and business model deserve a dedicated post , which will be coming soon.)  Chelsea served us her signature Deconstructed Espresso and chocolate-covered orange slices, which were beyond outstanding – they were a revelation.  And it is sad that I was urged to go to Slate "like right now," because "it will not necessarily be here next time around."  And I'm not all that surprised that the business is hurting: The best advertising for the quality of their roasts is right there, in a cup prepared by an expert barista.  However, you can only go this far on word of mouth (even if it's powered by Yelp), and the location is way out of the main thoroughfares, in a residential area that doesn't look affluent at all.   

To tell you the truth, this time around the whole city looked to me less appealing, more haggard.  Even Pike Place market didn't feel too bustling – with fewer vendors and significantly reduced numbers of transactions.  Climbing onto Capitol Hill on Friday (!), you experience an eerie sensation of emptiness: there are barely any people around and most establishments, including the small art galleries, are open only for a few hours a day; so, in the early afternoon, they are either already closed or not yet open.  And walking only a few blocks up from the posh corner of Pine St. & 6th Ave. towards Broadway, I'm sorry to say, is an experience that evokes the documentary footage of Trenton, NJ.  It's just heartbreaking. 

I can't believe I'm saying this, but there is no doubt in my mind that, while Stephenie Meyer single-handedly destroyed the already low aesthetic values of at least two young generations, the movies based on her Twilight series are most definitely responsible for the economic well-being of the upper regions of the Olympic Peninsula.  Port Angeles, Forks, La Push, and the magical rainforests of the area are busy with fans trying to relive Bella-Edward-Jacob "thrills" and the genuine nature-lovers who have to see for themselves that this national treasure is for real and not CGI'ed by the filmmakers (it is real!): So, the ferries are packed, the inns are booked, RV parks are full, the backpackers are checking into the campgrounds, cyclists are devouring Thriftway's garlic bread, espressos are flowing, and by 8 pm the Mexican eatery with a pinned above the register photo of Robert Pattison embracing the staff is out of all proteins.  Good for them!  Since the monster has been unleashed from the cultural hell anyway, I hope local small-business owners milk this cash cow as long as they can.

You head 200 miles further down the coast to Cannon Beach, OR (via never prosperous Aberdeen, WA) and the picture changes completely.  Even its reputation as one of the most beautiful beaches in the world, the famous sand-castle competition, and the high popularity with the movie-location scouts are not able to create sufficient pull to attract more tourists – the place's sole source of revenues.  There are simply less people who can afford to travel now, and those who can, would rather go to more buzz-worthy places.  While the efforts of Cannon Beach's Chamber of Commerce to bar big-name hotels, stores, and restaurants out of the area do protect local businesses from the hard-core competition, nothing can be done about the evaporating bank balances.  And the chain reaction is unavoidable: In the absence of sufficient revenues, the hospitality proprietors  start cutting corners and provide the still-paying guests with shabbier living spaces and lower quality food, thus drastically reducing the plausibility of customer retention.  I was glad our plans called just for an overnight stay there.   

To my sensibilities, Portland, OR is a paradox.  In comparison, let's say, to Seattle, it's simultaneously simpler and more pretentious.  On one hand, there are no passing-through cruises or world-famous attraction icons and, therefore, less touristy hustle.  (Even though, the hotel I stayed in, the famous Heathman with its library of over 2000 autographed books, is definitely getting a fresh influx of new tourists, thanks to another set of the literally trash soon to crawl onto the silver screen, Fifty Shades of Grey – what with the book's multiple seedy scenes actually taking place in one of this wonderful (truly!) establishment's suites.)  On the other hand, Portland has an unmistakable independent spirit and everything that comes with it – both good and bad. 

The city counts the bona fide indie filmmaker Gus Van Sant and the late indie-rock singer-songwriter Elliott Smith among its local celebrities, even though neither was born here.  The enterprising here is more of a boutique nature as well: there are definitely less Starbucks per capita than in other prominent cities, but you can find a small coffee shop practically everywhere you turn. 

There are plenty of tiny start-ups here, including chic eateries, and, of course, they are struggling.  One of the ways the survival efforts manifest themselves here is the "open to close" trend, which for someone from the city that never sleeps and has famous restaurants open until 2 am seemed novel and strange. (And fucking annoying, since we actually had to turn away from closed doors of establishments that were supposed to be open according to their posted hours of operation).  At the same time, I have to admit that it does save a chunk of money if you shut down an empty store or a restaurant – turning off the equipment, making all employees clock out, etc.  It's possible that we saw the future there.

Unfortunately, the flip side of the indie culture is the profusion of hipsters.  Fred Armisen can continue telling everyone that Portlandia could've been placed anywhere, but I'm not convinced – it couldn't, not even in Brooklyn.  The hipster details are too specifically Portland, including the lightless intersections conundrum.

Uninitiated people associate the hipster phenomenon with a certain level of affluence.  And in a lot of cases that's correct.  But it's also a good cover up for border-line destitute situations.  The difference is not easy to recognize, though.  You may pass two people on the street looking exactly the same to an untrained eye: skinny jeans, boots, checkered shirt, green or brown hoody, cross-body messenger bag, glasses, long scarf, carefully disordered hair – you know what I'm talking about.  It takes the knowledgeable eye of a fashion devotee to distinguish an $800 Japanese hoodie from a $60 Urban Outfitters' one, or a $10 Kohl's bargain.  

Here, in Portland, the balance between hipsters with steady income and those who have lost their jobs and rentals a while ago seems to be tipping towards a larger percentage of impoverished individuals.  They feed the increasing contingent of pervasive drunks and bums, which are a big problem and the primary concern of the local law enforcement.  It is obvious to the naked eye that in one year the situation got worse - now they are everywhere.

Eureka, CA is a small town (population 27K) with its one side overlooking the ocean and the other side bordering Humboldt State Park, the home of the Pacific Northwest Redwood giants.  It has campuses of two higher education institutions – College of the Redwoods and Humboldt State University, whose professors and students contribute into the consumer pool.  However, the main attraction here is the proximity to the Trees and, just like in Cannon Beach, Eureka's economy relies on tourism.  And, just like in Cannon Beach, it doesn't look too good.  

The town's only member of the Select Registry of North American Distinguished Inns, Carter House Inn has been considered a premium B&B for almost 30 years, and last year we found our accommodations here pleasantly quaint.  I remember the place was practically full and even at 11 pm (late by the local standards) the lobby was busy with guests partaking in complementary tea-and-cookies service. 

This year, our arrival coincided with a police drug bust: At the entrance, I literally had to give way to four cops in rubber gloves removing a resisting female junkie from the premises.  As bizarre as that scene was, I don't think anybody can blame the inn's severe underbooking on it.  It seemed eerily empty.  Again, signs of the funds' shortage could be clearly seen: There is obviously not enough money even to clean, let alone repair or replace, the soiled or chipped furniture and fixtures.  And now, all chamber-maid staff is let off before 2 pm.  So, if you linger in your room in the morning trying to clear your backlog of emails, there will be no housekeeping for you.

Of course, no economic troubles can stop people from coming to the Redwoods for a glimpse at what Earth should've looked like, but the preferences presently lie with camping and RV-renting rather than with $300 a night inns that don't live up to their rates.  

If I could avoid going to San Francisco I would, but it was the easiest route for my return trip.  Traveling through that city is like visiting a third-world country, or going back in time to the area's gold-rush origins.  We talk a lot about the national phenomenon of a disappearing middle class, but out there it had vanished some time ago: There is a handful of incredibly rich high-tech tycoons, and everyone else is barely getting by, or worse – San Francisco has the second-highest concentration of homeless people per capita in the country (first place belongs to Los Angeles). 

At this point, the monetary disparity has started taking its toll on the city's social atmosphere.  I don't like geographical generalizations: for instance, not everyone in New York is pushy.  And my experience shows that everywhere you go in the world, the local population represents your regular bag of mixed nuts: assholes, bullies, helpful individuals, etc.  But in San Francisco, it seems like most people, regardless of their personalities, are covered by some sheen of general nastiness.

And that, my friends, is pure social science: Sour economies always result in the deterioration of social values, civil discord, harder policing, and so on, and so forth.  We live in a very large country and things develop at different rates depending on the specific area.  But eventually the downturn will catch up with the 99.9% everywhere.