This week has been an interesting turn of events. Last Sunday, I found myself stuck at one of the markets waiting for one of my employees to arrive so that I could leave to work at another market. Sure enough, he was late due to a nasty flash flood that affected several parts of the county, and as I impatiently waited for him, a slightly disturbing thought crossed my mind. The little voice said, "That's it. I'm done. I don't wanna do this anymore.", and just like that I decided that I had had enough of the market. There would be no working through the season or waiting to sell it; I was done now. By the time he arrived, it was too late to set up at the other market, which I was depending on in order to pay the rent at the current market. It was so frustrating I felt like dropping to my knees and crying, but the show had to go on and we were somehow going to get through the day without any nervous breakdowns.
As I've mentioned before, one of my signature menu items are my 'famous' meatballs (yes, they really are that good) and there was already someone else copying me. Sunday morning, I learned that yet another lack luster vendor was serving the same item and had also drastically undercut my price, as well. Needless to say, that made my head spin. In addition to this, the owner of the market himself had put yet another booth in the market, this time across the hall from me, selling pastas and pasta sauces. The bread and pastries guy was selling paninis, like me. There's another booth selling crepes that opened a couple weeks after I had begun selling them. Little by little, my original menu was 'original' no longer. On top of that, my employees simply wouldn't do what I asked. They operated my business as though they knew better than me. Weekend after weekend of correcting, retraining, reorganizing, recreating, and reprimanding wore me down. While they walked away each Sunday with cash in hand, all I had to look forward to was another week of cracking my skull trying to figure out how to replenish the inventory, prepare more sauces, and cover all the expenses with the peanuts I was left to work with.
It just wasn't worth it. I don't consider myself to be a quitter, but sometimes knowing when to let go is one of the most valuable business decisions one can make. This being said, decisions like this need to be made responsibly without abruptly disrupting what has become a staple to many of our customers throughout the past year. So I made my friend and assistant, Rob, an offer I hoped he couldn't refuse. I offered him the opportunity to run the business as his own for the next month and if he did well and wanted to continue, he could purchase it from me in small payments. Great opportunity, right? Yeah sure... little did he know the burden he was about to take on.
This Sunday, as I breezed in to collect the money he owed me to reimburse me for the rent I paid upfront, the invoice for the vodka sauce and meatballs I supplied for him, and my cut on the jars of sauce he had sold for me, I felt like an Italian mafioso. He worked his ass off this weekend, but by the time he paid Mandy, the other assistant (who spent most of the weekend flirting with the new girl at the flower stand), me, and running out to buy some emergency supplies, Rob was walking away with about $30. I didn't know whether to laugh in relief or cry on his behalf. As he and his girlfriend stared at the scraps they were left with in disbelief, all I could offer was, "Welcome to my world.".
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