I had three hours until my shift at the Leaning Tower of Pizza, two weeks until the place closed for good, and eleven dollars in my checking account. I walked into Professor Hunt’s office determined not to beg.
“Ty.” She waved me to the chair across her desk. “Can I assume this means you’ve finally chosen a business to build?”
“Well…” I swallowed. I’d actually come to ask for a job I’d already turned down once. But I knew she wouldn’t want me if she thought I was slacking off on my assignment. “I’ve got it narrowed down to three.”
“Let’s hear them.”
“Reselling used textbooks. Helping students write resumes. And selling school swag.”
“Hmm.” Her dark eyes fixed on me. “Tell me, when you typed side hustles for college kids into Google, were those the top three results, or did you have to scroll?”
Heat crawled up my neck. “They can’t all be bad.”
“Not one of your ideas has a shred of energy. Can you see yourself jumping out of bed at six in the morning because you can’t wait to give resume advice?”
“Nobody jumps out of bed for any of this stuff. It’s a class project.”
“There it is.” She pointed at me like I’d just confessed to something. “Entrepreneurship doesn’t work that way. Nobody’s standing over you making you do it, so you need to choose something that will motivate you.”
“I thought the point was mainly to learn how to operate a business?”
She sighed. “Tell me, Ty, did you ever operate a lemonade stand as a kid?”
“Sure.” We had this great rock wall running along one side of the farm. We lived on a small, backcountry road, so hardly anyone drove past. But mostly everyone stopped, probably more out of pity than thirst.
“Then why are you taking this class?”
“Excuse me?”
“You’ve run a business.” She leaned back in her chair. “So why are you taking this class? Aren’t you covering old ground?”
“I sold lemonade with my neighbor when I was five and she was four.”
“So?”
“So we sold it for a dollar a cup, with our moms making sure we didn’t wander into the street.”
“So?”
“So I’m hoping what I’ll learn in this class will be a little more substantive.”
“As am I. Which is why I’m not excited about you coming to me with the college version of a lemonade stand.” She leaned across the desk. “Push yourself. What excites you?”
It was definitely not textbooks or resumes. The truth was, I was doing this assignment the way I had every other one in school: checking a box, doing just enough to squeeze in work, frisbee practice, Brittney, and the guys.
“Honestly, Professor? I’m not chasing excitement. I’m trying to end up better off than my parents, who work crazy hours and have nothing to show for it but calluses and debt. I don’t want to spend the next forty years sweating the first of the month.” I shook my head. “You’re right, my ideas are lame. But what am I supposed to do, found a tech startup? I can’t code. I can’t design. I’m a farm kid with a strong back and a B-plus average.”
For the first time since I’d walked in, Professor Hunt smiled. “Now that answer had energy. I’m not asking you to invent the next iPhone, Ty. I’m asking you to take on something you’ll be hungry to build, either because you love it or because you love having cash in your pocket.”
Considering my financial crunch, cash sounded pretty good. “You think someone like me could make serious dough?”
Professor Hunt snapped her fingers. “With the right business, a high school kid could.”
The talk of hunger reminded me of why I’d come. “I hear you, Professor. I’ll go back to the drawing board. But the seminar isn’t actually why I’m here.”
“No?”
I made myself say it. “Is the research assistant position still open?”
“Oh.” She sat back. “I’m sorry, Ty. When you turned me down, I hired Megan Kim. She’s been excellent.”
I should have guessed. Meg was a fireball, a junior from Korea who didn’t even reach my shoulder. She’d been the strongest student in Professor Hunt’s Business 101 class last year, so I was shocked when Hunt offered me the job over her. I even wondered if she’d somehow learned about the flood on the farm and made the offer out of pity. I got up to go. “I understand. Thanks anyway.”
“Sit down a second. Why the sudden interest? When I offered you the job, you told me you’d rather work in a real business than research theory.”
That had been my line, anyway. The real reason was an extra three dollars an hour and all the pizza I could eat. I hadn’t felt like admitting to my favorite professor that I could be bought that cheap. Turned out I’d sold myself for six weeks of pepperoni. “The Leaning Tower of Pizza is closing. I’ve got two weeks. So I’m back on the market.”
“Closing?” Her eyes narrowed. “Did it lose its lease?”
“No, the lease is fine. We’re just not selling enough pizza. The owner figured we’d move a hundred pies a day when he opened the place. We’re doing fifty on a good night.”
“It’s not being forced to close for any other reason?”
“No, it’s just losing money.”
“Hmm.” She picked up her pen and tapped it against the desk. “How’s the space?”
“Big. Too big, honestly. Most nights we’ve got two tables going and ten sitting empty.” I couldn’t tell where this was headed. “Why?”
“And the location?”
“A block off campus. Corner of Pearl and Grand.”
“A corner lot.” The pen stopped tapping. “Which way does it face?”
“The main entrance is on Pearl, where the pizza counter is, but there’s a side entrance on Grand by the seating area. Why?”
Instead of answering, she pointed the pen at me. “Ty, you strike me as a hungry young man.”
My stomach growled. “Well, I didn’t get on the meal plan this semester because I thought I’d be getting all the pizza I could—”
Professor Hunt held up her hand. “I don’t mean physically hungry. I mean driven. Other than your pathetic effort to choose a business, you always worked hard in class, and I know you hustle outside class as well. That’s why I offered you the position. I knew you’d do a good job.”
Her words felt like a slap in the face. “I’m sorry, I should have—”
“I don’t take it as a slight. I don’t blame you for wanting to earn more money. Trust me, I wish more of our students had your sensibilities. Some graduate over a hundred thousand in the hole only to discover there’s no job market for their Gender Studies degree.”
“I’ve also maximized what I can borrow…” I decided not to mention how much of those loans actually went to my parents.
“At least you’re studying business. With your grit, you’ll have strong prospects.”
“I hope so.”
“I know so. But prospects or no prospects, you still need to make it happen for yourself. Most people think they’re owed a living. The truth is, each of us eventually has to stand on our own two feet.”
“I know.” I sighed. “The whole point of the seminar is to learn how to build a business. I’ll try harder to find a good project, and I’m sure I’ll earn something. But whatever it is, I doubt it will support me.”
“Again, Ty, you need to think bigger. If you don’t, you’ll fail to see opportunities even when they’re right in front of you.”
“What do you mean, Professor?”
“How afraid are you of a bit of risk?”
“I don’t have anything to take a risk with. Every dollar I earn goes straight to tuition and housing. And now it looks like I’ll have to start paying for meals, too.”
“Money isn’t the only thing we risk. There’s also time, effort, and reputation.”
“I grew up on a farm, Professor. We spent months plowing and planting every year, and we never had any guarantee of how much we’d produce. I can handle risk.”
“That’s good, Ty. That’s very good.”
“What do you have in mind?”
