Page 190 of Spicy Ever After
Her question brings me up short.
I’ve been dreading my final project in Principles of Marketing, pretending like the assignment doesn’t make up twenty percent of my grade.
But the thought of drafting a marketing strategy for Hattie’s Attic suddenly seems…
Exciting!
Something I could hyperfocus on and immerse myself in.
Even now, I can hear Canva calling.
And I need business cards too…
“Okay,” I grant. “You may have a point.”
Vivian nods. “Give yourself that year to finish your degree and get all of your ducks in a row, look at lease properties, figure out your financing, spec out how long you could last comfortably without turning a profit, identify your suppliers… There’s a lot to do that would fill up your year.”
I’m no good at being patient, but if I were making strides towards opening, that wouldn’t feel like just waiting around.
It may make me sound privileged—because I am privileged—but I doubt I really need to figure out the financing.
And I already have a place to live.
I talked to my parents last weekend. They closed on the townhouse. I had to sign power of attorney papers for the sale because it’s in my name, but the deal is done. I’m a homeowner.
And if I finish my degree and present my dad with a solid business plan, he’ll help me with financing. Even if he doesn’t, I can use my townhouse as collateral. I have options.
But if he were willing to start me up with an alteration shop, I don’t see how this is any different. And yet…
A place like Viv Couture? It makes all the difference in the world.
A place where sewists can find what they need, gather, take classes, work, sell their wares? Where customers can commission one-of-a-kind outfits? Nothing about that is boring. Every aspect about it excites me.
But I know myself well enough to know that not every day will be exciting. That some days will just be hard and exhausting.
“You’re only closed on Mondays,” I blurt.
Vivian blinks. “That’s true…”
“So you only get one day off?” I hear the squeak in my voice. I love being in this shop, but even I couldn’t do it all day, six days a week.
“Oh, my, no. I have help. You’ve met Simone and Ashtyn.”
I have. They both work here. Simone just taught a group class on putting in elastic waist and wrist bands. Ashtyn pinned the hems on a pair of pajama pants I cranked out one afternoon.
“You’ve been coming in the afternoons, so you wouldn’t know it, but I have Simone open on Tuesdays and Ashtyn open on Fridays. One of them covers for me if I need a day off, and we close for holidays and for a week in December and another in July.” Her smile turns wistful. “When my dad passed away last August, we closed for nine days.”
“Oh…” I hadn’t really thought about having the flexibility to close whenever I’d need to. Or whenever I want to. My dad owns his own business, and he went to work even the day after my grandfather died.
I always thought it was because he had to. Maybe it was because he wanted to.
“You just need to find good people you trust and treat them right,” Vivian says.
“And find a store manager who’s better organized than I am,” I blurt.
This is something that came out of the career counseling assessments I had with Mark at Summit House. Creativity. Vision. Communication. Those are my strong suits. Organization, time management, and task completion are things I need help with.
“Exactly. You need people who are strong in ways that you need support.” Vivian raises a brow. “Simone is much better at marketing and community engagement than I am. And Ashtyn is great at keeping an eye on our inventory and being vigilant about machine maintenance. Those are things I tend to forget about.”
