Everyone discusses the wonders of venturing beyond their comfort zone and pursuing their true passion by starting a business. However, the challenges of doing so and not achieving success are rarely acknowledged.
I acquired a business loan, a commercial space with an attached apartment, and established a bakery. Unfortunately, I failed to attract any customers despite my many attempts with Facebook ads, radio ads, & even renting out billboards. Not a single customer ever entered my doors. It’s not like my baking is subpar (not to boast) but I don’t even have anyone willing to give it a chance. Perhaps small businesses struggle to survive and flourish in the face of the convenience offered by online shopping.
My mother requested a cake for her upcoming birthday in a month, expressing her desire to be my first customer and she will pre-order. However, I find the idea of my mother bailing me out again and being my first customer just embarrassing, and I want to avoid it at all costs. As a result, my funds and ambition are depleting.
One night, I found myself self-destructing as I indulged in a late-night snack of my own creations. After consuming two cupcakes, I experienced a severe stomach ache, a common occurrence after eating sweet baked goods, which is why I rarely indulge in them, especially late at night. Ironically, as a baker, I can barely enjoy my own baked goods. It feels like a curse.
Devastated by my significant failures and this terrible stomach ache, I was contemplating the wreckage of my life until I was interrupted by a sudden knock on the door of my bakery at 1 am. I anxiously wondered who would be here at such an ungodly hour. Although I initially planned to disregard the circumstances and not open the door, curiosity got the better of me, and I peered through the peephole.
To my surprise, I found a friendly-looking man in an elegant suit and tie, sporting a bowler cap. He had slicked-back hair, glasses, and a warm, welcoming smile. He held a present wrapped in blue paper with a pink bow on top.
A compulsion must have overcome me because I opened the door to a stranger at 1 am.
“Hello there, please accept my apologies for the late arrival. I just returned to town and wanted to offer a gift to the newest small business in town. Small businesses are a rarity nowadays due to the boom of online shopping. I hope this gift serves as encouragement for you to persevere. I understand how challenging it can be to achieve success, and perhaps this gift will assist you on your journey,” he proclaimed.
I was so taken back by the elegant man and his captivating speech that I stood there in disbelief. Not a word escaped my lips as I reached out to receive the generously offered present.
The man smiled, tipped his hat, addressed me as “ma’am,” and departed. And that was it.
Feeling shaken by the peculiar encounter, I returned inside and sat down at my table, unwrapping the mysterious gift. Inside, I found a card and a black book. The card read, “Sometimes, it’s not about marketing. If something is remarkable enough, people will naturally gravitate towards it.” I opened to the middle of the black book, and started flipping through the pages, scanning its contents.
To my disappointment, I realized I was looking at a cookbook.
I left the book wide open on the table in my bakery and retired to bed, feeling defeated. I couldn’t fathom why I believed that the enigmatic man held the answer to all my problems, but for a brief moment, I entertained the delusion.
The following morning, I opened my bakery for the day, and started brewing coffee, I noticed the book once again. I stared at it intently until I finished my cup of coffee.
I picked up the book, Over the next couple of hours, I baked several recipes from the book, carefully reciting each ingredient out loud to avoid forgetting anything. I couldn’t comprehend how these recipes could be significantly better than what I had been baking before, to the point where customers would seek me out. Yet, I was proven wrong. To my surprise, just as I finished icing a tray of cupcakes, I heard the bell on my bakery door, signaling the arrival of a customer.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I thought to myself as a customer stepped into my bakery for the first time since I began my business, just as the card had predicted.
“Hello, I was walking by, and the irresistible aroma from your bakery compelled me to satisfy my sweet tooth. I couldn’t resist coming in to see your delectable treats,” the man said, his eyes widening as he beheld the assortment of pastries and cupcakes on my counter.
He purchased a box of cupcakes to go and went on his way.
I made my first sale, and joy overwhelmed me.
Gradually, I started earning some money, attracting a few customers each day, though nothing extravagant. I was finally beginning to achieve a meager profit.
However, what I truly needed were returning customers—people I could rely on to sustain my business for years to come. Despite the praises I received regarding the appearance and aroma of my goods, I had yet to witness a familiar face returning to make another purchase. This worried me.
Against my better judgment, one morning I decided to sample my new creations to ascertain whether the recipes the mysterious man had given me were genuinely exceptional.
They were incredible. I couldn’t believe it. “This is the most exquisite cupcake I’ve ever tasted,” I thought, holding a half-bitten cupcake at eye level, scrutinizing its perfection. However, my elation was short-lived as I soon experienced a stomach ache.
This didn’t make any sense. I couldn’t understand why, despite having numerous customers over the past month, not a single one had returned. Frustrated and confused, I concluded that I should sell a cake to my mom on her birthday because then I could at least receive some honest feedback after prying for a while for the truth.
I know, I know—it seems low to sell a cake to your own mom on her birthday. But you don’t know my mom. She would insist on paying me regardless of whether she slipped money into my pocket or left it in my apartment’s mail slot. Somehow, she would ensure I received the payment so it’s easier this way.
So, I baked a cake for my mom. Although she arrived in town late that night, she insisted on having cake and ice cream. She came to my bakery at 12:30 am, and after catching up for a while, she eagerly anticipated trying her birthday cake. I adorned the cake with candles spelling out “2 & 1” and wished my mom a happy 21st birthday, which made her burst into laughter at the obvious lie. My mom treasured birthdays and always celebrated, no matter what.
I asked her to make a wish and watched as she leaned in to blow out the candles.
To my disbelief, my jaw dropped as I witnessed a colossal, open-mouth materialize on the cake with razor-sharp, shark-like teeth that swiftly engulfed my mother while she still had her eyes closed, beginning with her head, which caused her to be suspended upside down. Then, with its snake-like ability to stretch, its mouth widened to accommodate the rest of her body, and my mother disappeared with just a few jiggles.
The cake, now a monstrous bloated creature, turned to face me. It shouldn’t have been able to see me, possessing only a giant mouth, and yet, its gaze bore into my soul.
I screamed in horror as the monstrous cake turned its attention toward me. In all the chaos that transpired, the black cookbook fell off the table and landed on the ground. Reminding me that this is how it all started, I darted for the book, ducked, and retrieved it, barely dodging a swift chomp from the cake-like creature, and fled outside overwhelmed and hysterical at the events that just unfolded that I’ll never be able to live down.
“Now I understand why none of my customers returned, but I was around the baked goods as well, and I’m still here,” I screamed frantically, tears streaming down my face. Thumbing through the book’s pages, my eyes darted around until they landed on the first page, which bore a crucial warning:
Please read before using.
“Do not indulge in these delectable sweets after dark; the consequences of your sweet tooth may turn rotten.”