You like magic?
You should see how fast I made $25,000 disappear. After months of scraping my way through, I suddenly had access to more cash than I thought I’d ever need. Less than a month later—poof—it was gone.
Now I understood why Professor Hunt emphasized how lucky I was that no one would lend me money. With no access to capital, I had little choice but to stretch each dollar.
So where did the money go?
First and foremost, the new counter. That dingy little corner—two tables and eight chairs awkwardly tucked by the Grand Street door—was suddenly a versatile space. Our pastries sat in the window in a refrigerated display unit, which required me to shell out a sizeable down payment plus cover delivery and installation. Then there was the counter itself. I could have bought something used or gone the IKEA route. Instead, I had a carpenter craft a custom unit that fit the corner perfectly.
Then there was new equipment. I’d considered offering smoothies and juice in the mornings. Smoothies would have been healthier but also loud. I opted for the pastries and coffee route, especially since I already had a bakery I liked working with. I ordered an industrial espresso machine, plus a conveyor toaster for heating up pastries or slices of pizza. Dedrick had the idea of reheating leftover slices for The Midnight Snack.
And then there was my new apartment. Without the loan, I probably would have found a grungy room somewhere cheap. But access to cash can change a guy. I wasn’t eager to go back to living in a dump. And there was attractive student housing off campus. In the end, I moved into a fully furnished one-bedroom. And since it was made for students, all the utilities were included on one bill.
Shockingly, the $25,000 debt didn’t increase my stress or my cash flow. The minimum payment was only $400 a month, and the new counter quickly generated significantly more than that.
Dedrick was killing it at night. He wasn’t getting a lick of homework done, but was serving plenty of coffee and dessert, making far more than he would have on an hourly salary. I could already see we might need to add a second person to help. And he was doing so well that he’d started pulling back on his day hours (I guess he had to do that homework sometime).
Unfortunately, I didn’t have a Dedrick for the mornings. Every day at 6 a.m., the bakery delivered fresh pastries, and we opened our doors. I called it Rise and Shine. It wasn’t busy, but it was steady, and margins were strong. Hot drinks were close to 90%. Pastries around 75%. Since rent was already covered, labor was my only significant cost.
The first person I hired for the morning shift missed the pastry delivery two days in a row (the delivery guy was less than delighted to double back later in his route) and then quit.
My second hire had no problem arriving in the morning but had sticky fingers. I didn’t mind too much when he helped himself to pastries (after all, I ate more than my share of free pizzas), but when cash and supplies started walking away, I grew concerned. Lacking proof, I spent the final $800 of my credit line putting in security cameras. As soon as he saw the cameras, Sticky Fingers quit on the spot.
In early March, I made hires three and four. Maybe it was overkill, but I figured at least one of them would work out. And I was starting to realize something: I needed more people who knew how to run the place. People I could count on. Not just for one shift, but for all the moving parts of the business.
“How come you look so happy?” Andrew asked me right after class.
“It’s graduation day, my friend.” I turned toward the pizzeria.
Andrew fell in beside me. “It’s only Spring Break, and I thought you were a sophomore?”
“Not graduation from college.” I grinned. “Today, I graduate from being a business operator to a business owner.”
“Wow. I’m nowhere near there. But you’ve worked hard, Ty. You deserve it.”
I had worked hard. And after six months, I was tired. Tired of working double shifts. Tired of all the responsibility on my shoulders. Tired even of pizza. I never thought I’d get sick of my favorite food, but I kept dreaming of sneaking out for Chinese or Mexican.
“Starting today, I’m handing over the keys to a manager.”
“Really? You have the budget for that?”
“I’ve run the numbers a dozen times. The desserts and The Midnight Snack are both pulling their weight. Revenue’s up, profits are up. I can afford it.”
“What about the morning shift?”
“Rise and Shine is barely breaking even,” I admitted. Paying two staff to operate it was killing the profits, but I hoped it would grow.
“And you’re just…done? You’re walking away?”
“I’ll still drop in. But let someone else stress over whether we have enough pepperoni or serve as backup if the morning crew oversleeps.”
He clapped me on the shoulder. “So what will you do with all your free time?”
“Try not to flunk out. Actually study for once.”
“Well, good luck,” he said, then peeled off down a different path.
An hour later, I stood behind the pizza counter with Michael, my new manager. Unlike the rest of us, he wasn’t just some college kid. He was 34, recently divorced, and had worked in restaurants for over a decade, serving as a manager in two of them, including one pizzeria. For the past week, he’d worked by my side, asking questions on every detail of the operation. The man was always in motion, and he could make a pizza faster than anyone else on my team.
“You sure you’re ready for this?” I asked, handing him the spare set of keys.
He pocketed them. “Don’t worry, boss, I can handle this. Go enjoy your vacation.”
A vacation was exactly what I needed. My whole life had revolved around pizza. Now I was on Spring Break for an entire glorious week. I was long overdue for a trip home to see my family. With students out of town, it was the perfect time to ease Michael into the role.
“Mr. Sulu,” I said, “you have the conn. Call me if you need anything.” I stepped toward the door, then stopped. “But try not to need anything.”
He grinned. “You won’t be hearing a word from me.”
The car I drove back to my parents’ was a decade old, but it was mine, and I was super proud of it. I’d bought it just a few days earlier and was still getting used to it. Of course, I was also still getting used to my apartment, and I’d been there for weeks. So much luxury after all that time of scraping by felt strange. Nonetheless, I thought as I headed down the highway, a guy could get used to it.
I knew my family would consider the car a big deal after all the financial struggle they’d been through. The first person to greet me when I got home was my little sister Melissa. She came running out of the house the second I pulled up and was in my arms faster than a pig to slop. So far as I could tell, she didn’t even notice the car.
Mom’s hands were coated in flour when I entered. I hugged her while she held her hands out wide so she wouldn’t get flour all over me, but she planted a kiss on my cheek. “What do you want on your pizza, Ty?”
“You’re kidding, right?”
“You bet I am. We’re having meatloaf. The flour is from a pecan pie. Get yourself settled—dinner’s in a half hour.”
I got a fire going even though the weather didn’t really call for it. I’d missed this over Christmas—just sitting by the hearth with everyone close. My sister was glued to my side. She helped with the kindling, and I told her where to blow to get the fire to catch.
“Nice set of wheels,” Dad said, walking in a few minutes before dinner. No surprise he was the first one to notice. Old as my car was, his truck was a good five years older.
I beamed. “Just picked it up this week.”
“You always remember your first one. Mine was an old Saab 900 that barely ran, but I loved it with a passion that made your mom jealous.”
“Of that old thing?” she called out from the kitchen. “Hardly.”
“I love seeing a man on the rise. First car. First apartment. Before long, you’ll be introducing us to your first wife.” Dad shot me a wink.
“Joe, you’re awful,” Mom called out again. “Go and wash up for dinner. We’ll be eating in a few.”
When we were all seated, Mom loaded up a plate for me even though everyone else served themselves. “How have things been socially at school?”
“Looking up,” I said.
“Oh?” Mom’s face lit up. “New girlfriend?”
“No, Mom. The new thing is time. Up until now, I couldn’t have fit in a relationship even if I had the girl. But I’m done being a business operator.”
Panic flashed across her face. “You’re not closing shop, are you?”
“No, but I hired a manager. It’s time to let him run the place. As for me, I’m ready to be a student again.”
“You have enough profits in the business to pay a manager?”
“Enough to pay a manager,” I said between bites of meatloaf, “and still have enough left over to cover my apartment, food, and tuition.”
Dad helped himself to seconds. “I’m proud of you, son. Having a strong income is no small thing at your age. And to have it not even require your time…” He shook his head. “Remarkable.”
After dinner, Melissa and I played Monopoly in front of the fireplace. She got Boardwalk and Park Place, the most overrated squares on the board. Meanwhile, I secured the Oranges and put three houses on each property before she could get a single house up. The problem with Monopoly is that even after the outcome is a foregone conclusion, it takes so long to actually win. We were both bored and just going through the motions by the time I finally bankrupted her.
She snuggled up to me on the couch. “Wanna tell me a story?”
“Like what? Like about college?”
“No, college sounds so boring.” She wrinkled her nose. “And I don’t want to hear about your pizza place either. I want a real story. Like about a princess or something.”
I laughed. “I don’t know any princess stories. Well, except for Star Wars, but I don’t think Princess Leia is what you’re looking for.”
She bounced up. “I’ve got some books. Want to read me one?”
“Sure, go grab one.”
Melissa ran off to her room, and I checked my phone. Joanna had sent me a crying face emoji and two voice notes. I hit play on the first one. “You’ve got a way unhappy avatar here. That ass you have running the place practically ran me out of The Pizza Lab when I told him I get my pizza for free.”
Oh, crap. I’d totally forgotten to tell Michael about Joanna. I hit her second voice note. “Oh yeah, and he’s playing this hard rock garbage. Blasting it, too. Not at all the vibe I’m into.”
Melissa returned with a glittery pink book. “You ready?”
“Just give me a second, OK? I’ve got a slight problem I have to deal with at the pizzeria.”
Her eyes narrowed. “I thought that wasn’t your thing anymore?”
“It’s not. Not really. But I forgot to tell the new manager a couple of things. Give me a minute, OK?”
I recorded a voice note of my own. “Hey Michael, sorry, I forgot to mention Joanna. She’s helped us a ton, and she gets free pizza anytime. Also, check the Knowledge Base for the music playlists. We use mellow jazz, volume level 5. That’s the atmosphere we want.”
I sent a second to Joanna. “Really sorry. I forgot to tell him about you. Just sent a note—should be all good now. I owe you one when I get back.”
I picked up the book. “A Mermaid in Middle Grade? I thought we were reading a princess story? Is she a mermaid princess?”
She shook her head. “No, just a regular mermaid girl.”
“You really want to read about a boring, regular, normal mermaid?”
She giggled. “Go on and read.”
My phone buzzed. A message from Michael. “Sorry about that. Will fix right away.”
I threw another log on the fire, then snuggled into the couch with my little sister and dove into the world of mermaids.
A vacation on a farm is only half a vacation. For the next two days, I rose at dawn and worked alongside my dad. There was something comforting about getting my hands in the dirt again. But while our tasks were familiar, our conversations were not.
Growing up, Dad never talked much about the business side of the farm, especially not the finances. This time, he talked about the poor soil quality since the flood, his debate over a new tractor, and the lingering debt. But even more surprising, he kept asking my advice.
When we drove into town for supplies, he nodded toward my car. “Let’s take yours.”
I held out the keys. “You want to drive?”
“Absolutely not. I won’t get between a man and his love. You take the wheel.”
I slid into the driver’s seat. “I know you loved your first car, Dad, but this one’s mostly practical.”
“Come on, Ty, it’s got to feel good to have your own set of wheels.”
“That’s the truth.” I grinned sheepishly. “But honestly, I chose it because it seemed reliable and a good value.”
“I guess your generation doesn’t have the same love for cars we did when I grew up. You urban kids can Uber wherever you want.” His eyes drifted into the distance, into some other time. “For my generation, cars meant freedom. We loved our wheels, rust spots and all, with obscene passion.”
“Don’t get me wrong. When I was at the dealership, there was this red convertible I drooled over.” My voice went down to a whisper. “Don’t tell Mom, but I promised myself I’d be back for a car like that within a year.”
“You really think you can do it?”
“Honestly, if profits continue to improve, I could be back at the dealership in six months.” It felt so deliciously good to be flying high.
“Amazing.” He shook his head. “You’re doing good for yourself, Ty.” Dad pointed to the hardware store. “Pull over here. I want to run in for a second.”
“You got it. I’ll wait here.”
As he got out, I sat back and let it all sink in. Seeing the business through Dad’s eyes made me realize how blessed I’d been. He and Mom had started a family before they had their finances in order, and that meant money was always tight. I was starting from a different place. With no one to support but myself, I hoped to lay the foundations for a life and a family built on abundance, not stress.
I felt blessed in so many ways that day. Blessed to have a loving and supportive family. Blessed to have a successful business. Blessed to have my own car and apartment. But the biggest blessing that day was my father being in the hardware store when my phone rang.
“Hey Dedrick, what’s going on?”
“You better haul your butt back to town pronto if you still want to have a pizzeria when you return.”
“What? Why?”
I could hear his teeth gritting. “Your new manager is running amok.”
“Joanna told me the thing about the music. I fixed that.”
“Forget the music. Nobody and no thing is good enough for him. He fired Tom yesterday. This morning Tony got sick of his verbal abuse and quit. And the place is practically empty.”
“Well sure, but it’s Spring Break.”
“Forget Spring Break. Plenty of students are still around, and the campus closed the dining halls for the week, so there’s no lack of people eating out. They just don’t want to eat here because the energy has turned toxic. Now Michael’s starting in on me and questioning the way I run The Midnight Snack. After our last shouting match, I half expected to be fired.”
My heart was pounding. I couldn’t afford to lose Dedrick. “Well, I’m glad he didn’t let you go.”
“Don’t be. I’m getting ready to quit myself.”
My throat tightened. “Don’t. I’ll fix it.”
“When?”
“I’ll get there as fast as I can.”
“Better make it fast, or I won’t be here when you do.”
Dad climbed back in the car just as I hung up. “Everything alright?”
I shook my head. “There’s trouble at the pizzeria.”
“Anything your new manager can’t handle?”
“The new manager is the trouble. He seemed so competent while I was training him. But it sounds like things went downhill fast when I left.”
“What are you going to do?”
I stared at the wheel, too ashamed to look him in the eye. “Not sure, Dad.”
“Well, if you’re not sure, I am.” Dad grabbed my chin and turned my head to face him. “It sounds like you need to get back there.”
I blinked back the stinging in my eyes. “This was my first time seeing the family.”
“And now you’ve seen us.” Dad rested his hand on my shoulder. “This business is your baby.” I thought he’d be ashamed of me, but his gaze spoke of confidence. “Babies are great, but they’re also a huge responsibility. You owe it to your staff, your customers, and your future to get back there and put things right.”
I breathed for the first time since he’d gotten back in the car. For all my wanting to feel grown up, Dad could still teach me a ton about responsibility. “Let’s head back to the farm. If I pack and leave now, I can arrive tonight.”
I returned to The Pizza Lab early that evening to find Michael behind the counter, hunched over his phone. Heavy metal blaring over the speakers.
“Michael, what the hell is going on?” I had to scream just to be heard.
He glanced up. “Oh hey, boss. Don’t worry, I’ve got it under control.”
“It doesn’t look that way.”
“You mean the music?” He waved it off. “I asked around, and nobody said they minded.”
“Nobody, eh?” My face was growing hotter by the second. “Well, nobody is exactly who we’re serving, given the place is empty.”
“Yeah, things are a lot quieter here than when you were showing me around,” he said with a shrug. “But that’s why you wanted me to start this week, right? Since there was so little business anyway.”
I headed to the sound system and shut it off, but my voice didn’t get any quieter. “I heard you fired Tom?”
“That guy was slow as molasses. I honestly didn’t see the point in having him around when I could make enough pizza on my own to handle the traffic.”
My eyes bulged. “And Tony quit?”
“Yeah, but good riddance. That Rise and Shine thing you’ve got going on in the morning was half dead anyway. I can’t see how it makes sense to run a restaurant with so little traffic. And especially not with two guys working the shift. It’s better at night, with Dedrick running things by himself. But you’re way overpaying him. I told him I want to take him back down to hourly.”
My jaw clenched. “Michael, you haven’t even been in charge for a week, and you’ve already dismantled half my restaurant.”
“I know it’s tough, Ty, but it happens everywhere. Trust me, I’ve worked in over a dozen restaurants, and you see it all the time. New manager comes in with a new way of running things. There’s always a few staff members who don’t fit in with the new vibe.”
When I interviewed Michael, I’d thought his experience working in so many places was a good thing. I hadn’t really stopped to do the math. “Michael, what’s the longest you’ve ever lasted in one restaurant?”
“I waited tables at the same place for two years back in college. Why?”
“And as a manager?”
“Uh, nine months at a taco place. Three at the pizzeria I told you about.”
“And why did you leave?”
“Guess you could call it disagreements with the ownership.”
I suddenly felt sick. How had I not thought to ask these questions during our interview? The answer was obvious. I was so anxious to pass on my own responsibilities that I saw only what I wanted to see. What a disaster. Would I ever get away from running this stupid pizzeria?
That was a question for another time. At the moment, it didn’t matter if I liked it or not. My father was right. I had responsibilities.
I looked him straight in the eye. “This isn’t working out, Michael. I have to let you go.”
“Figured as much when I saw you walk in during the middle of your vacation. I’ll get my things and clear out.” He took the keys out of his pocket and plopped them on the counter.
I followed him back into the office and watched while he gathered his belongings, nervous about what he might do on the way out. The space looked totally different, with posters of girls in bikinis everywhere. He threw his stuff in a gym bag.
“Don’t forget those,” I said, indicating the posters.
“They’re my gift to you.”
I rolled my eyes. “Might as well take ’em. They’ll just wind up in the trash.”
“Suit yourself.”
I followed him as far as the front door, but he caused no more problems. I still owed him a paycheck, so perhaps he didn’t want to rock the boat. Or perhaps he was so used to being fired it barely fazed him.
The first thing I did when the door shut behind him was put on my favorite jazz playlist. Next, I called Dedrick. “I’m back. Michael’s been canned.”
“Glad to hear that. Think you can get Tom and Tony back?”
“Do we want them back?”
“Why not? They were both OK.”
They were OK. But crass as he was, Michael wasn’t wrong. Tom was slow. And we didn’t really need two people on shift in the mornings to sell pastries and drinks. The business succeeded because I worked double shifts and personally monitored everything. But I hardly had high standards when it came to hiring. If I doubted that before, the Michael disaster was proof.
It was time I faced the facts: I owned a restaurant that sold average pizza, run by an average staff. Since Carrie left, Dedrick was the only one who took ownership over his work. Now that he was running The Midnight Snack, he was barely even part of my pizza staff.
I was pretty confident I could repair the damage Michael had done. Fortunately, he’d only been in charge for a few days, and most students had been off campus anyway. But that would mean reverting to my old role of operating the restaurant myself.
If the pizzeria could only succeed with me in charge, then I was trapped. Could it be that to escape The Pizza Lab, I’d have to close the doors or sell? I couldn’t believe that. Tons of business owners collected profits without actively running their businesses. The question was, how could I get there?
