Recently, I've got this crazy notion in my head that I want to open a store. After reviewing my contract at my job at the brewery, it dawned on me that it's going to be a slow transition to even notable means. In fact, the proposition I got was a stagnant one. After a year of busting my butt and taking over my mentor's job, I got offered a goose egg of a raise and thank you in the form of a $250 bonus cheque. It may have well been offered in the form of pennies to really complete the offence.
Anyways, the long weekend offered time to reflect and think and talk to some friends that had started their own business or on their way to. I thought about what would really make me to be happy. Not working away under someone's derisive thumb, who found the suggestion that I receive a sizeable raise towards that of my predecessor laughable and borderline offensive. The suggestion was made that I should be less concerned about my finances in my dedication to the company.
Like give me a break.
So now I'm just fantasizing about using that empty space below my apartment and turning it into a consignment store to offer funky clothes that aren't available at a good price for the youth. Notably, this may be a poor decision to try to attract young customers in a location with an unstable representation of youths. So who knows, maybe I go after the old birds or just use this space as a kind of totem of inspiration and take this elsewhere.
Maybe it's a pipe dream, but I think it's also something I think I'd regret not even trying. I could ask my grandpa to spare some of his lofty allowance on a loan instead of dropping it on whatever gold digger is stroking his ego this month.
I would have a couch with a guitar handy for bored SOs to sit and jam, some cucumber water in a decorative cooler dispenser to keep people lingering. Some suggested coffee, but that's crazy why would I have staining stuff.
There's even a salon next door, where I could redirect traffic. after they're all gussied to find an outfit and feel all nice about themselves. Man, I would love picking out outfits for people and building them up, attending auctions, closings and blowouts. Helping people resell their own stuff would also be nicey.
I was talking to this new pizza store owner that was bragging to me about all the things you didn't actually need to do to start up anything.
Maybe I could start a parasitic pop-up and host it in my apartment.
I'll spend a year planning and researching before I jump into anything. Or this will just be something I think about for a long time while I amass small small savings until the time is right.
In other news, I have to say that while I'm in a relatively good spot, what they said at Sick Kids is true. You never truly get rid of it. It's gotten better, it's changed and mutated, but it's still impacting my life in a negative way and I just can't stand it anymore. I put out feelers to a psych that at least partly deal.It's so hard and stressful that I can't talk to anyone. I feel too ashamed to discuss it with my mom beyond maybe maybe getting her to help me out with the bill. I just don't want her to be sad and worry about me anymore. I don't want to sit down at meals and feel judged or concerned. It's moreso when I'm on my own that there's even a problem. I've called her crying about my other gambit of problems like boys and work. And she's so happy, she gets sad when she can't help. I didn't even realize how upsetting this all is until I sat here to write it down. It's not the disorder that is currently making blubber like a bonehead, but the secrecy the pressure of bottling it up and having no one to walk through it with. I miss Lynne, I always looked so forward to meeting with her.