Not for the Faint of Heart

We thought we had a pretty good idea of what starting a small business would look like.

In hindsight, we were carrying a mix of hope and irrational optimism; maybe even a little semi-delusion. Somewhere in our minds lived the idea of instant success, quick momentum, and a sense of financial security that would arrive faster than it reasonably should.

Planning has never been our strongest skill. We tend to believe things will somehow fall into place, that effort plus good intentions will equal smooth outcomes.

This process has taught us otherwise.

Starting a business is not for the faint of heart. When you walk through markets and events, you’re surrounded by people who work relentlessly, people building something not just for today, but for their families, their futures, and their legacy. That realization alone is humbling.

Our first three events didn’t bring financial success. In fact, we operated at a notable loss. And yet, along the way, we met incredibly loyal, kind, and selfless people, individuals who showed up for us in ways that can’t be measured on a balance sheet.

Since launching in May, we’ve pivoted at least four times.

We began with plans to offer bumper cars and photo ops for parties and events. Unfortunately, the bumper cars didn’t function as expected, and we had to cut our losses.

Next, we explored running hot chocolate and limeade stands without a truck, only to learn that health permits and costly kitchen commissaries made that route unrealistic.

We then shifted to offering photo ops while selling only pre-packaged food and drinks, but again ran into barriers, being told we’d need a kitchen or warehouse, which was financially out of reach.

So once more, we adapted.

Now, we offer photo ops featuring nostalgic, vintage toys.

The past few events have been meaningful in terms of connection. We’ve met people striving to create something better for their families, people who understand the risk and vulnerability that come with building something from the ground up. From a business standpoint, though, success has been elusive.

The emotional experience mirrors the sales themselves, ups and downs, hope and doubt. There are moments of overwhelm: worrying about logistics, questioning whether this will ever pay off, wondering if we’re wasting time and money chasing something that may not work.

Then someone stops at our booth. They smile. They engage. A spark returns.

And then the traffic slows again. The market feels quiet. Doubt creeps back in.

The second event was particularly difficult. We invested time and money preparing our booth and photo setup, only to arrive and learn the event had hired its own photo booth, but wanted our truck. We were told this would still benefit us through exposure, yet the photo booth advertised their own business, and many patrons left believing our truck belonged to them.

The person running the booth made little effort to clarify the confusion. Watching another company receive payment, collect hundreds of customer emails, and walk away with brand recognition tied to our work was deeply disheartening.

It made the question unavoidable:

Is this worth it?

By the end of the night, a woman stopped by who leads a group supporting women in business leadership. She offered a meaningful networking opportunity, one that reminded me that maybe nothing is truly wasted if we’re willing to learn from it.

Still, this journey is hard. Doing something new, unfamiliar, and vulnerable makes it difficult to regulate thoughts and emotions. As a mental health provider, I know this intellectually...and yet I still struggle. Not taking rejection or lack of success personally remains a constant challenge.

Through all of this, my husband Robbie has been my steady ground. He encourages me when external circumstances or internal distress threaten to sway my confidence. His support has made this process feel survivable, even when it’s uncomfortable.

This isn’t a success story...at least not yet.

It’s a story about persistence, adjustment, humility, and learning to sit with uncertainty. And maybe that, too, is worth sharing.