This Little Piggy Went to Market.

Anyone watching the news or listening to the radio this summer probably heard about the release of a new book, Waiter Rant: Thanks for the Tip—Confessions of a Cynical Waiter. Anthony Bourdain described it as a front-of-the-house Kitchen Confidential, and from what I’ve heard, it certainly sounds like just the kind of book that service industry veterans like myself can rejoice in. In all my years as a waitress and barista, my co-workers and I got so much satisfaction from those rare opportunities to retaliate against obnoxious customers.

This may seem childish and petty to some, but if you have ever waited on people, you can appreciate these small victories and perhaps even see them as part of a necessary system of checks and balances. But I digress. My point here is not to relish in the new-found doubts that diners and coffee drinkers will now harbor thanks to this book. In fact, in some strange way, the seemingly never-ending influx of entitled customers often provide the entertainment, adventure, and absurdity characteristic of the service industry. The one thing I miss terribly is the camaraderie that results from facing this common enemy. So much humor surfaces in kitchens, behind counters, and in stock rooms, and all precisely because the public can be so ridiculous.

Over time, it really does morph into this bizarre love-hate relationship. You crave the constant activity, the high-pressure challenge of a rush, the range of personalities and behaviors, oddball requests and inter-personal drama. And yet, despite my affection for this craziness, when I did finally leave, I ran screaming. Or squealing, I should say.

For the first six months of Blackbird Tees, I hid behind my computer and website. Occasionally, I’d peak out through the blinds, but always retracted back to my safe little spot in cyberspace, free of human interaction. As I have recently learned though, you can’t hide forever. Eventually, if you want to sell something, you have to face the customer head on. So, after happily burying my head in the sand for most of 2008, I packed up my shirts and headed to the farmers market.

And everything I could have done wrong, I did do wrong. I had a really lame setup (tees piled in stacks on a table), I accidentally scorched several shirts, set bad price points, watched as my merchandise consistently blew away in strong winds, etc., but each week, I improved in one area or another. The setup and breakdown time decreased, and I got a real feel for the ebb and flow of the market. More importantly, the face-to-face contact with the buying public is teaching me so much about what works and what doesn’t. Sure, sometimes the feedback isn’t particularly welcome, but more often than not, it has a value. Even more, there are moments when it can surprise you and encourage you to keep going.

Nothing beats seeing someone excited to purchase something you’ve made–something that you created out of thin air, and put thought, time and care into. All of those details you weren’t sure about start to matter. The effort that goes in to finding your stride and aesthetic. The hard work to become good at something. It’s important to see people respond to your products in real time, in spite of the fear you will inevitable feel.  And now that I’ve taken the plunge, my only regret is that I didn’t get out there and roll around in the mud earlier.

Filed under Blackbird Diary, Lost Demographic |