Ican’t do this.
Whatmakes me think I can do this?
I glanced at my knives still intheir case on my desk. The clean black cloth was nicely folded, velvety inperfect softness and hiding the tools of my trade. They were a graduation giftfrom Vann and my dad. And the most expensive thing I owned. I had always been suspiciousthat my dad took out a loan to pay for them. But I’d always been too gratefulfor them to ask.
My knives stared back at me tonight,asking silent questions and looking sorely neglected. I hadn’t cooked since I’dbeen back home. I hadn’t tested recipes or flavors or even made myself agrilled cheese sandwich.
And I hated the reason why.
I was afraid.
No, it was worse than that. I wascrippled by fear. I was drowning in the terror of failure and the realizationthat I might have bet my entire life on a false sense of self-worth.
Old insecurities slipped into mythoughts like thunderclouds on a sunny day. They covered the sun and blockedout the blue sky. They darkened every positive thing and left me feeling coldand lost, without a sense of direction.
My breathing staggered and my handsturned to ice. I felt the pressure to succeed—the pressure not to screw this uplike I’d destroyed every other thing in my life—like serial killer hands aroundmy throat.
I shook my head and threw mynotebook off my lap. I’d been sitting on my bed with my legs tucked under mehoping to find inspiration, but that hadn’t worked. And I couldn’t make myselfface my knives yet. I couldn’t even use my desk because I was afraid to movethem.
How pathetic was that?
Pulling my laptop onto my lap, I letout a slow, steady breath. Fear and self-doubt still tugged at my confidence,trying to unravel everything I’d worked to regain over the last year. I wouldn’tlet them win.
I wouldn’t.
It was sheer determination that mybreaths evened out and my vision cleared. My hands still shook as my laptop cameto life.
I intended to research some food formy menu, but my Facebook homepage popped up because I never closed out of it thelast time I used my computer. I was instantly pulled into the newsfeed, eventhough it wasn’t very interesting.
When I left for Europe, I closed mypersonal page. Actually, I did more than that. I shut off my phone and deletedmy email. I went as off the grid as possible. Well, not actually off the grid,since I did get a new cell and email account. But only so I could keep in touchwith dad, Vann and Molly. I’d skipped Facebook to stay hidden.
As soon as I decided to open Foodie,I knew I couldn’t run a small business without a social media presence. It wasthe only reason I opened new profiles on social sites under a different name.Vera May instead of VeraDelane.
Unfortunately, there weren’t thatmany people left in my life to friend other than Vann and Molly. And quitefrankly, I was tired of all of Vann’s healthy lifestyle, extreme sports posts.Blah, blah, blah, Vann. We get it. You liketo torture your body and eat cardboard. Hooray for you.
Finding nothing interesting on mypersonal Facebook page, I clicked to Foodie’s business page. I’d been spendinga minimal amount of money on advertising, thanks to Vann’s small businessexpertise. He’d been showing me how to make the most on a small advertisingbudget.
Because of that, Foodie had severalhundred likes.Woohoo!Okay, it wasn’t much, but I had to start somewhere. I’d been super lucky tofind a graphic designer who gave me the hottest promo pics for free—thank you, Molly!
Plus, food trucks were trendingaround the country and Durham didn’t have many yet.
I smiled at a few posts from peopleexcited about Friday’s opening. Their enthusiasm was contagious, and I couldn’thelp the excitement that began to bubble inside me. I nibbled on my bottom lip,unable to hold the superstition at bay, afraid of having too much confidence atthis point. But hope still bloomed, washing away the lingering nerves and fearof failure.
The message box indicated someonehad contacted me and it grabbed my attention. I eagerly opened it to find myfirst business related private message. It was sent this afternoon, and Iinstantly felt bad for not checking sooner. I would have to do better atkeeping up with this page now that Foodie was finally becoming a reality.
I skimmed the message first, toonervous to dive into the content. My spirits jumped off a cliff and landed in afiery explosion when I forced myself to go back to the beginning and read itword for word.
Checking out the name of the sender,I clicked on it and quickly skimmed through what I could see of his privateprofile page. Fear of being discovered burned at the back of my neck, but Ipromised myself that my business page kept my identity hidden. It was there topromote my food truck and nothing more. There was no personal information orpicture of me. It was just the truck, Molly’s gorgeous promo material and mymission statement. The sender could glean as much information about me as Icould about him. Which was virtually nothing.
Although clearly, he didn’t like meanyway.
JamesQ: I don’t understand the point of your food truck. There are alreadyrestaurants in that area of downtown. What are you hoping to accomplish? Theother restaurants are going to crush you. Save yourself the pain.
My chest felt hollowed out by embarrassment.It was like he’d read my mind and thrown all of my insecurities and fears backat me, asking the same questions I was too afraid to say out loud.
Vann’s parking lot was the only realestate I’d looked at because he let me park there for free. Plus, I could park besidehis building with access to power and water, promising to pay my portion of theutility bills of course. And I was in accordance with the city laws thatpertained to the distance I needed to be away from brick and mortarrestaurants.Lilouwas the closest restaurant, and Iparked exactly the required distance away.
The spot had been perfect.Unfortunately, it was also surrounded by other established restaurants. Iconsoled myself with the knowledge that none of them served what I would offer.My truck and menu were all about late night comfort food. The other six restaurantsin the plaza catered to the high-end dining experience. My food would come in abox with unlimited napkins. Theirs required a dress code.
