So, funny story (now that it's over a month in the past): I fucked up.

Palm Grease Extra Greasy was supposed to be finished on a Friday. I had already made the product, minus the fragrance. I checked how many orders needed to ship and printed the shipping labels so we could knock everything out as soon as it was ready. Then I got up to get the fragrance, and I couldn’t find it; but I knew we had it. I brought it with me from South Carolina. It was one of last packed things...

Where did it go? I had no idea.

I could order more, but the closest place where I could get it quickly was in Independence, Ohio. That meant making a projected six-hour round trip. If I wanted to get these Palm Grease orders out in a reasonable amount of time, there was no other option. I had to get in my car and drive to Ohio.

The Emergency Trip to Ohio

This all happened during the first week of training two new employees. They’re understanding, but nobody wants to look that disorganized during someone’s first week. Luckily, I have been gifted with two fantastic people whom I trusted enough to leave here by themselves with tasks to complete. That allowed me to leave for Ohio at 1:00.

The store closed at 4:00. Was I pushing it? Yes.

But I knew that if I didn’t get the fragrance and try to ship these orders by Saturday, people would have been waiting too fucking long. It wasn’t even about customers yelling at me. I just didn’t want people waiting that long. Knowing that people are waiting for orders sits on my soul, and I don’t fucking like it.

So, I drove to Ohio. The drive there ended up taking four and a half hours. Luckily, they left the package outside for me, so I was able to pick it up and bring it back to Michigan.

I was exhausted by the time I got back. I was literally starting to fall asleep during the final part of the drive. I had to pull over for a while just to pull myself back together. When I finally made it home, I was so tired that I had no recollection of what happened to the box.

I want to repeat that. After driving what ended up being an eight-hour round trip, I did not remember where I put the box. 

The Box Disappeared

On Sunday, I started looking for it. I spent four hours searching all over the house, but I couldn’t find it. I had just driven eight hours to Ohio to get that box. I knew I had brought it home, so it had to be there somewhere.

If you know me, you know that unfinished orders sit heavily on my spirit. Not being able to finish those orders because I had lost the box put my mind into a state of absolute terror and tumult. I love making things. I love running my business. I do not love this shit.

After four hours of searching, I decided to stop before I ripped my hair out from the root. I would pause and look again on Monday.

On Monday, my two wonderful workers came in at 10:00. We completed the workday and got a ton of stuff done. I hoped that sometime between their arrival and when they left at 3:00, I would find the box. Then I could finish the Palm Grease and drop the orders off at the post office.

I didn’t find it. The box that I drove from Detroit to Independence, Ohio, and back in one day to get was still missing.

I am so thankful for my new medication. Without it, I feel like I would have gone absolutely insane from the level of stress jolting through my entire body. By 5:00, two hours after my employees left, I still had no luck. So, I took another break.

You Cannot Just Keep Looking

One thing I’ve learned as a person with ADHD is that you cannot infinitely search for something you’ve lost. Once I start freaking out, continuing to look is not helpful. I need to stop. I need to clean up, organize, go outside, smoke a blunt, or do something else for a while.

I went outside and talked to my neighbor for about an hour. Very nice guy. Very handsome.

Then I came back inside and searched strategically. I went through every floor, room, cabinet, box, and bin in the house. I looked underneath things, behind things, and inside things that were covered. Unless that box came with an internal invisibility cloak, it was not in my house.

This was the box I had driven eight hours to get. I remembered putting it in my van and driving it back to Michigan. I just couldn’t remember what happened to it after I got home.

What Could Have Happened to It?

At that point, I tried to remember literally anything. There were very few explanations left. The best one I could come up with, because it was the most like me, was that I had arrived home carrying my bag, the box, and my keys. Maybe I set the box down on my porch or on top of my car, went inside, and fucking forgot about it. Then someone could have walked up and taken it.

Because I live in Detroit, you might think, “Yeah, you live in Detroit. That’s normal.”

Actually, no. That would be abnormal.

Porch pirates aren’t really a thing in my neighborhood. There might be traveling bands of them, but I’ve never had a package stolen. I’ve had packages from Walmart, Best Buy, and Amazon left on my porch without an issue. It didn’t make sense that someone would suddenly steal this one plain, unmarked box.

My other thought was that maybe I had been so tired that I left the box in the van and forgot to lock the doors. Maybe someone opened the van and took it. That didn’t make sense either. My $1,200 bike was still in the van. My Pixel 7 Pro was still there. Even my Tamagotchi was still there.

Admittedly, a Tamagotchi is not the most valuable thing in the world. Still, if someone is stealing from a car, they’re probably going to take anything electronic. Nothing else was missing from the van.

So, where the fuck was the box?

I Was Going to Have to Drive Back

By 11:00 Monday night, four days after this entire ordeal began, I was sitting in my living room and realizing that I might have to drive back to Ohio. I didn’t think I had another option.

Out of desperation, I kept scanning the room, still hoping I might see the box. I looked down and noticed a bin sitting inside another bin. It contained shelf dividers that we use on our product shelves. Inside that bin, I saw a bottle with a black lid. It was a brown amber glass bottle that looked a lot like one of our fragrance bottles.

I paused and tilted my head. I looked at the label, but my brain refused to read it. It looked like hieroglyphics. I had to pick up the bottle and hold it close to my face.

It was the fragrance I needed.

Not the fragrance I had driven to Ohio to get. This was the original bottle I had brought back from South Carolina. It had been in my house the entire time.

ADHD Fucked Me

That bottle was there because, right before moving from South Carolina to Michigan, I made several of our most popular products. The last product I made before leaving was Palm Grease Extra Greasy.

At the time, I made more of the four-ounce jars because we already had plenty of the 16-ounce jars. Since then, we had run out of the 16-ounce size, which was what I needed to make now. Apparently, I brought the remaining fragrance to Michigan and put it in a bin with some shelf dividers. Then I completely forgot it existed.

That means I never needed to drive eight hours to Ohio.

I have never been so grateful in my entire life. ADHD fucked me.

The new box was still missing, but I had enough fragrance to finish the product. After four days of stress, an eight-hour drive, and hours spent tearing through my house, the solution had been sitting in a bin in my living room.

Running a Business With ADHD and Autism

People sometimes ask what it’s like to run a business and manage all of this when you have autism and ADHD. They don’t usually call them mental disabilities, but that’s what they are.

The answer is that I absolutely fucking love my job. I love making products, running The Butters, and getting orders into people’s hands. The fact that I’m doing well enough does not make these disabilities disappear. It doesn’t prevent moments like this. It also doesn’t stop those moments of deep shame when you fuck something up and there’s nothing you can do to immediately fix it.

I had done everything I could to solve the original problem. I found a supplier, drove to another state, picked up the fragrance, and brought it home. Then my brain misplaced the solution and erased any memory of where I had put it.

After all of that, the only thing I could feel when I found the original bottle was gratitude. Most importantly, I could finally finish the Palm Grease Extra Greasy and get the waiting orders out.

Maybe we learned something. Maybe you were entertained.

Either way, the jars are finally on their way.

The Eventual Conclusion

I recorded the video that became this blog a month before it came out. As such, I can now provide you with a more satisfying and utterly gobsmacking ending.

The box that I drove eight hours to get was left right there where I picked it up.

Apparently, I set the box on top of my car and drove off without it. They found it and sent it to me a couple of weeks later.

So, to be clear, I drove all the way from Detroit to Independence, Ohio, picked up the box, placed it on my car, and then drove eight hours round trip without ever bringing it home. Meanwhile, the fragrance I needed had been sitting in my workroom the entire time.

When we talk about ADHD mess-ups, this one is an all-timer.