Don't Treat Me Like I Don't Matter

Please, please learn from my mistakes.   If any of you are even considering starting your own business.  Maybe... just... don't.  Or at least wait until you're thirty.

There are a LOT of things that are amazing about it.  I'll be doing something that I love almost exactly how I want it done.  But there are also a lot of things that are less than pleasant about it.

For one thing, getting open is just about to give me a heart attack every day. But more importantly, as I have not reached that pivotal 30-year mark, I am treated like an inconsequential part of the grand scheme.

Yesterday  I spent a good part of my afternoon worked into a tizzy over a coffee vendor who owns 10 local cafes.  He bought them about 2-4 years ago.  This is great for him, I'm sure.  He's doing something he likes after so many years of not being in the coffee business, and I'm sure he's taken measures to teach himself about each process involved in the coffee business.  But I'm pretty sure that doesn't give him the right to talk down to potential customers.

When someone contacts you about wholesale bean prices, I dont care who they are.  You dont know anything about them.  You act sweet as pie.  Get their business... right?!   What you dont do, is tell them they're 1)crazy  2)obviously mislead  & 3)not aware of what they're looking for.

 

I'm not sure what school of thought he's subscribing to, but they're preaching the things you shouldn't do.  

And then he called me Kiddo. And implied that my business partner (who knows nothing about coffee) was my boss (nope) and therefore the deciding factor.  Then continued to try to circumvent me by going to my business partner in lieu of talking to me.  Oh, and making sure to "copy him" on all of our "correspondence" because "that's just what you do in a business relationship"  (Which I read while sitting down to lunch WITH my business partner.) 

All I did was point out that he wanted a LOT of money for his beans wholesale.  Even after mark up.  I'd love to use someone locally, but if you can't handle the volume at a reduced rate, I'm afraid it wont work out between us.

I just refuse to pay high-quality, direct-trade prices on NOT direct trade coffee.  

By the way, never imply that I'm 15.  It doesn't go well (oops).  I'm small.  I know this.  But god help me.  If one more person implies I'm still in Highschool this month, I might snap.

Girl, you better don't!

Yesterday, at the gas station I slipped up.  (Not to worry, I didn't fall.)

While paying for my dangerously orange peanut butter crackers I dropped Mr. iPhone (yes, MR. IPHONE, it's an unhealthy attachment, I know).   But that's not the point.  I dropped Mr. iPhone and the attendant said to me:  "Shooo, girl.   You best not be breakin' yo' things! Yo' momma gonna be maaaaaaad at you.  She paid a pretty penny fo' that phone.  Don' be breakin' yo' things. "  And the whole time I was thinking to myself,  "Oh no. No no no you did not just treat me like a fifteen year old. " (I like to think I can pass for at LEAST 20. I mean, OBviously I can drive.)

So, as a gut reaction.  I responded without truly thinking, "Honey, my mother did NOT buy me this phone.  I pay for my own damn self."

Then I'm pretty sure my face dropped.  Because, you don't sass a sassy black lady.  They are awesome and strong.  You dont sass them.  You learn their ways and employ them.  But you don't let them know that you're studying them.  I mean REALLY.  What is wrong with me?!

To my great surprise she laughed, smiled widely and said, "Well good for you honey! (then turned serious) But really. Don't be breakin' yo' shit."

And I responded the only way a 100lb 5'2" white girl should.  I said, "Y'all have a great day, now!" And hurried out the door with my peanut butter crackers and Mr. iPhone, leaving my momentary bravery behind.