So I'm all the more wiser now that I met with my small business advisor.... who happened to retire from that post about two hours after our meeting on Thursday afternoon. But the nice fellow that he is gave me his business card and his home telephone number and personal email so that I could contact him with whatever questions I have and deliver to him my business plan and Monthly Flow Chart upon completion so that he could then make up a Three Year Projection Sheet for me to present to the bank upon requesting my business loan.
Breath.
I just sat at my kitchen table for two hours.... the first time I've had since Thursday to sit with all this information.... and I read through all of the paperwork about writing my business plan. To use a metaphor here.... this feels like a starfish trying to navigate it's way through a deciduous forest.... alien territory. I spent the first quarter of that time just sitting there with my head buzzing and eyes crossing, remembering that panic of sitting at my kitchen table trying to cram a semester's worth of neglected World History into my brain for tomorrow's final. The heat rushing into my face, that 'i'm so totally fucked' feeling creeping into my nervous system. It was like a disease that lasted from fourth grade until I stopped giving a shit halfway through my senior year of high school.
Anyway. I had to get past the daunting entirety of this project and began by simply reading through each section of what a business plan required. I had two outlines/workbooks to look at and compare and just took my time with it, like I was learning a foreign language. Which I am. This is. Bill suggested I write an outline, which is how he seems to function by simple nature, and I rolled my eyes like the adolescent I was reverting to and then, also like the adolescent, proceeded to do exactly as he suggested only after he was out of my way and in bed.
Business description, marketing, competition, operation, location, financials...... my head hurts.
But about three quarters of the way into this it dawned on me that I was starting to make sense of all of it and it also occurred to me that there have been plently of other ventures in my life that I've taken on without having had any prior experience. Motherhood, for one.
But when I started working at a group home for teenage boys in state's custody in 2001, I started there totally wet behind the ears. I had no degree in pyschology. I went at it with my heart. I read through case files, learned the lingo, toughened up, and loved them in a very quiet way. I became manager of that group home within six months and learned how to write reports, keep medical records, document case incidents, yadda yadda yadda. I learned how to hire employees, fire the ones that sucked and take care of the paperwork involved.
When the group home closed I stayed with the organization until all "my boys" graduated from the program and went on to stumble through their lives like we all do. I gardened until I knew what would come next. I had never gardened before. It was in that quiet, mindful environment, my hands in the earth, that I decided to get back into bodywork. I hadn't practiced in years but peiced together a worthwhile resume. From there I stumbled into my next job at the inn.... having applied for a job as massage therapist and gotten offered the job of massage supervisor. Here I learned marketing and promotion, budgeting, inventory, and how to dodge beauracracy and loads of bullshit.
And now coffee.
But first, a business plan.
And before that, sleep.
Sunday, May 06, 2007
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