Soy un Perdedor

Have you ever just had one of those days where nothing is working out? Why is it that once you get in this mood all you can do is spiral further and further into the doom and gloom, like nothing will ever be right, ever again?

The business idea I had (#6 in this post) is a go. It’s happening, and quicker than I thought it would. By someone else. Part of my research and due diligence phase was devoted to finding out if anyone else in town is doing something like this, and for a while it looked like it was just me. I had the proper Twitter, domain and Meetup names locked down and had even proceeded with beginning to gather a community/customer base. Then I got a wary e-mail from someone, asking just how far along I was with this project. I answered back, “Just how far along are you?”

Sigh. Obviously the short answer is that he’s farther along. But what has me in the funk is that he’s doing it … well … wrong. Or, at least differently, from all I’ve read on this topic. But it doesn’t matter because they have the funding to move forward now, where I was hoping that my research and careful community building was going to dovetail meticulously timing-wise at a point in the near future when funding might be available. Guess not. 

But that’s not all. (It never is when you’re in one of these gray, depressive states.) I had stepped out of my element a while back, thinking that I would eventually need to market my service to a wider audience, so I started to make inroads into this industry. I poked around, tried to figure out who was most active in this circle and asked him to meet me for coffee. We had what I thought was a friendly and collegial meeting, where we actually spent most of our time talking about the restaurant. Promises – no, more like offers – were made and I felt like I made an important contact that would help both C and me.

In the past few weeks there has been a number of instances of say one thing and do the other and sorry, busy now, but I’ll get to your request soon. Sure, everyone gets busy, but I’m smarter than the average bear. My money is as green as others’.

The main reason I wanted to meet for coffee, though, is to ask this seemingly well-connected person if they knew of anyone in town working on my project. And, was this service something he might avail himself of? No and no.

So then I meet the person who is working on “my” project, and I instantly like him and while I’m disappointed that I don’t get to do it, it’s getting done and will be a very cool addition to the scene here. He asks me to come on board, share my knowledge and be part of the founding members. They already had a Basecamp set up where they can communicate and swap thoughts. And who do I see on the list of members, leaving messages and adding his input? The coffee guy.

That’s only one example of what I’m encountering lately. I’ve been over it and over it with C. Have I offended someone, somehow? Am I promoting the restaurant too aggressively? Am I walking spam? Do I just not know the secret handshake? Is this a modern-day tech version of an old-boys’ network I’ve barged into? Or are they simply slippery characters?

Putting myself out there has been harder than I thought it would be. There’s a reason some people are writers. 

The guy who’s starting “my” business isn’t slippery. But the whole thing still stings. What am I doing wrong? I thought I had a great idea, one that would mesh well with my freelance assignments (you can come now, by the way! The hiding and coyness is adorable but, please, show yourself now.) and mothering. Fine. I need a Plan B, I suppose. And perhaps this is just the feet-stamping whine fest I need to have so I can move on.

I just can’t catch a break. The restaurant continues to create more stress than profit. I … I don’t know … don’t I deserve some luck?

C moved to SC six months before I did. I stayed to work a few more months, sell the house and also give us a little time to decide if this was the right move for us. Mostly, though, I timed it so that I’d arrive in SC, have some time to unpack the house and then we’d be departing to go get Tink a few weeks later. 

It didn’t turn out that way at all. I ended up spending six months in SC, not working, not being able to look for a job, not knowing anyone, C working lots of hours, without my baby. At the time it seemed like the worst thing that could ever happen to us. 

Now I can see how well things worked out, how the wait for Tink was worth anything and how brilliantly things were actually aligned. Will I ever feel this way about the restaurant, or my fumbling attempts at the next phase of my career?

Something happened this weekend, on Easter, that tells me things will work out but that I need to be patient. Why can’t I trust it? The shitty feelings of “nothing’s going right,” “I must be doing something wrong” are all I can focus on.

This funk is more than I can take sometimes.

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Tagged as: business, freelance writing, restaurant, social media, startups