“Are you going to make it on just desserts? Why’d you open a place here? Why don’t you display the cupcakes over here? Why don’t you have more flavors for the cookie? Well…I hope you make it.”
Such is the litany of questions, unsolicited advice and well wishes (if you can call them that) I experience with more regularity than I can comfortably stand. I’m ready to physically remove from my establishment the next person who asks me can I make it. It’s never asked by the customer ordering multiple boxes for a birthday party or by one in his pajamas, standing in the doorway of his home, happily taking a box of sweets from me as my delivery hours expire. It’s only asked by those smirking in the silence during a midday lull or a weekend freeze. Those same folks never seem to be anywhere around when I’m bitching about how badly I need an employee who’s not related to me, so I can open earlier on the weekend.
The first dozen times or so, my jovial answer to the inquiry was: “Well, I’m going to find out.” But in the last couple of weeks, I’ve simply treated it as rhetorical, while reminding myself that the person who probably thinks I’m stupid, naïve, irresponsible, deluded and so on is clearly the person with higher expectations than my own.
How is the asker defining “make it”? I’ve never bothered to ask. I don’t care. I just know that the accurate answer to the insulting question rests on that definition. Is it defined as merely getting to year two? Turning a profit in the first year? Making a million bucks? I define “making it” as the store paying for itself and paying for my share of the family bills. The former is already happening and the latter is currently fingertips away. So will I meet my own definition of making it? I’m confident I will. Will I meet the ones of the people asking? Who knows?
What I do know is this: I hate the suggested lack of forethought, planning, realism etc. wrapped up in a question being asked not only of people who don’t know me but of those who often don’t even bother to sample my product. They just pop into my store to suggest that they think it was a bad idea. Who raised these people?
It’s worth noting that in one week, both a confectioner and a food distributor asked about buying my cookie wholesale. The few reviews that have been written about the shop all mention becoming addicted to this cookie. The prototype for packaging it for shipment and shelf life is sitting next to my cash register. So am I going to make it? Yeah, asshole, I am! For now, at least, the odds are in my favor. So stop asking already!
So glad I have a kung fu class to teach tonight – and in the boxing room, at that. I think I’ll do sparring work against the bag before my soon-to-be green sashes arrive. Maybe that’ll bring the jovial response to the annoying question back to my lips.