In my very earliest days at PJP, I foolishly expected to eventually cross the entrepreneurial finish line. You know, that spectacular day wherein the business runs smoothly and my worries are few. I actually - no, I REALLY, REALLY, REALLY - thought that would eventually happen. And for the first few years, I looked around earnestly for whatever day that might be or whatever that finish line might look like. Spoiler alert: we never found the finish line at PJP Buttonwood.
And so, unsurprisingly for my nature, I’m starting to feel a little pull at PJP Nifong towards thinking the day should come that the business runs smoothly and my worries are few. (I’ve never really excelled at learning a lesson from experience because hope always springs eternal in me that the second, third, fourth, or 20th time I repeat the same pattern…the result might be different. This applies to EVERY aspect of my life. Just saying.)
Last week was so ridiculously challenging at PJP Nifong, it is almost not worth dwelling on. But for whatever it is worth…and in the spirit of keeping it real, here you go:
To start with, of the 36 days that PJP Nifong has been open, I’ve actually worked 37 of those days - the extra from the Sunday of Roots and Blues weekend. Which is really just my evidentiary support that I’m a little tired and a lot overwhelmed by the to-do list in my mind that never stops.
Which, I concede, is controlling and exhausting and really makes no sense unless you live in my head.
And even so, my desire to see PJP succeed in her new location will outweigh the disdain for the work schedule every single time. I’m currently reading I Miss You When I Blink by Mary Laura Philpott and in it she says “If success came in snortable form, I’d sniff it up each nostril and rub the residue on my gums.” Amen, sister.
And in the midst of it all, Jeanne had to drive to Kansas City for a case of baby pie boxes and to Sam’s for an emergency supply of pecans. And I bought eight gallons of milk at 5 am at Hyvee because our delivery truck forgot it. I bet you if you looked up a blog post from four years ago, you would read about the same thing. Maddening.
We made over 1,000 tarts in the latter part of last week. And the accolades from brides and other customers came rolling in, but I kept stewing around because someone came in and said she didn’t think our new store look very homey. Why is the negative so much easier to believe than the positive? We nailed a faux fireplace TO THE WALL, lady. I am 100% going to think about that comment for the next five to seven years, minimum.
I’m certain I’ll be better this week. Or I’m at least certain Jeanne won’t have to drive to Kansas City for baby pie boxes. (Knock on wood.)
