Owning a small business can be interesting at times. I find it most interesting when certain events come about that seem to be diametrically opposed. That strange juxtaposition was on display this last week. For several months, really ever since we opened for business, we’ve been told that people didn’t know that we existed. They would say that they didn’t know we were there, that they couldn’t find us, and if it wasn’t for a friend or colleague, they would’ve had no idea that a bakery was located where we are. These are all expected responses when you’re located in a gas station, as we are. I assume most people don’t spend their free time scouring nearby gas stations in the hopes they might discover a ‘hidden little gem’ like that of a made-from-scratch bakery or a higher-end eatery. While it’s disappointing to constantly be reminded of our lack of visibility, there’s no blame that can be thrown about, so, instead we’ve come to accept it. Perhaps that is what Zen is all about. I wouldn’t know much about that, however, as I am just a baker!

Either way, we’ve been efforting a sign out front, thus letting people know that we are there. There’s a sign for the gas station, so people can see the prices of gas. There’s a sign for the coffee kiosk that shares the same property and the same mailing address. We’ve been working with local sign companies to see about pricing and options. It’s not enough just to have a sign, you see, but to also have one that’s visible from the road as you drive by. A sign hanging off a building several yards from the roadway and obscured by the foliage of many trees that line the property would be nothing but a waste of limited resources. Unfortunately, recent research indicates that the city won’t allow us to erect our own sign. Our option would be to mount a sign atop one of the other ones that already exists, whereby the owners of those companies would have to give us our consent to do so, and they have already stated they won’t. This kind of setback makes it very difficult for us to stay in business. Coupled with new restrictions that we must pay for, we simply don’t have the patronage to warrant continuing on. And so we talk about the possibility of closing. We discuss our options because after so many obstacles, one needs to review where they are, how they got there, and whether or not they can reasonably expect things to improve. The answers to those questions are still subjective, and therefore we are all undecided.

As our dread was settling in, one of our favorite customers, someone we can joke around with, someone we would make every attempt to accommodate, walks into our store. We’ve not seen her in a long while but we’re always glad when we do. As we’re chatting about life, work, whatever, she tells us that a friend of hers passed away about a year ago. Her friend had come by our place every so often, but not enough for us to remember. She had a cancer of the liver, something not easy to detect because the symptoms are usually not obvious. By the time it was discovered it was too late for doctors to take any action. Needless to say, we weren’t laughing at this point of the story. I don’t know any kind of a joke to lighten the mood that wouldn’t also be totally insensitive. So we just listened as she tells us that her friend’s last wish was to have one of our Wheat-Free Cinnamon Rolls. Never ever ever would I have imagined that. That is sad, humbling, bewildering news to just suddenly have dropped upon you. I know sometimes that I can get wrapped up in all of the difficulties of keeping this business alive. Hell, I don’t even need the business to have something to be completely wrapped up by. But, after hearing a testimonial like that, from someone you trust, who didn’t know about our struggles or considerations regarding those struggles, how can I not say, “We’ll just have to figure out a way.”

And so we press on.