My Love/Hate Relationship with Small Local Businesses: or, Why I Became the Popcorn Queen in Four Hours Flat

I'm going out on another limb here, committing several levels of heresy, I'm sure, but I'll come righ out and say what other people probably are thinking but just can't find the nerve to say:

I have a love/hate relationship with locally owned small businesses.

I love them, because, well, they're my neighbors, and I want my neighborhood to thrive, and I like knowing the people who sell me my goods; but I hate them, because they seem to think that if they are locally owned neighborhood businesses the notion of good business and customer service practices can be thrown right out the window.

Exhibit One: last night, four p.m. Baboo is a part of a neighborhood association and was the point person for a Movie Night event: an outdoor free movie at a local park with popcorn and soda for sale. Everything went without a hitch.

Everything, that is, but the popcorn. Baboo made arrangements for a local mom and pop popcorn shop to provide the popcorn; but when I went to pick it up, at four p.m., during their regular business hours, I find a sign saying "sorry, we are doing a fundraiser at a local school; shop is closed, sorry for the inconvenience."

Are you kidding me? ARE YOU KIDDING ME? This is not cool. Unfortunately, this is also not unusual for the locally owned businesses in my area. There's a coffee shop down the street that I would frequent more, except that everytime I want to spend my money there, they are closed. I can't even begin to predict their hours, as they are something like "every other Saturday, except when a good Seinfeld re-run is on, then we might close early." And then they wonder why revenue is down, why people don't come.

Look, I understand that it is tough as a sole proprietor, and that keeping costs in check is crucial. But really. Hours of business should be consistent, predictable, and most important, HONORED. If I make a special trip to your business and your door is locked during business hours, I'm going somewhere else to spend my money where I know the door will be open when they say they will be. And I am not likely to give you a second chance. The few bucks you spend in labor to get someone to cover the front of the house for you will be more than repaid in repeat business and goodwill.

As for me, at four p.m., with an event scheduled to start at 8 and a school function to attend in between, I had to swing into crisis management mode; I got my biggest pot, my Coleman stove, and popcorn popping supplies from the local grocer (which was, in fact, open for bidness, hallelujah), and started popping at seven P.M. I must say, it turned out better than expected; we sold plenty and we had real butter. Everyone who wanted popcorn got it. Baboo learned a lesson about delegating and event planning. I got to cook for a horde, which I love to do.

But now I have a bad taste in my mouth for this particular business. And I wish I didn't.

Not Me First

As much as I waxed poetic about the importance of putting myself first on my to do list, which would include more regular posts on this here blog, I have -- sadly -- not done as well as I would have liked. That's because I have had a number of other personal developments which have taken priority, the most significant of which is my marriage to my Mr. Wonderful and the inevitable peaks and valleys that come with blending a family of five kids, all of which are under the age of nine.

Yes, that's what I said. I am now at the helm of a household containing two working parents and a maternal figure to five little people, four of whom are boys. You could call us the Magnificent Seven (with your tongue planted firmly in your cheek, naturally). You could call us the Brady Bunch minus one (but if you have a spare housekeeper named Alice, send her over, wouldja?) You might think of us as the Muppets (my sweet Baboo does a masterful imitation of Animal, and one of the boys has a Gonzo-like personality ). Mostly, we're just a couple of normal people with a bunch of normal kids who live in a normal state of harmonious chaos. We all love each other (with the rare kid "I hate you!!" thrown in for good measure) and so it works pretty well, usually.

For me, though, adapting to the constant ebb and flow of people and their ever changing needs and desires has proved to be a major adjustment. Someone's always hungry, mad, hungry, tired, sad, hungry, frustrated. We talk about it, someone has a snack or a nap, someone says "sorry," someone says "I forgive you," and it starts anew. And then there's the kids (smirk). It gets overwhelming and exhausting sometimes, the constant feeding, cleaning, comforting, the lost library books, the forgotten homework, the tantrums on the walk to school, peanut butter fingerprints on the hall mirror, stinky boy socks hanging on the towel rack (the towel rack, I say!!!) It's all just too much some days.

But then there are those moments when it all seems to fall in place, like the recent Monday when they all got up, ate breakfast, got dressed, brushed teeth, combed hair, and were ready for school before 7:30 A.M. and without much adult prodding, or the summer day last year when for one blessed and perfect minute I watched them jump up and down in unison in a giant puddle of water, a look of unadulterated joy on their faces. Or the freshly cut tulips next to my freshly brewed coffee when I went into the kitchen this morning, the good-morning kiss from a freshly shaven Baboo. It's all just too much some days.

So, forgive me for not putting myself first lately. I've been putting others first for a while.