Sure Enough...The Village Idiot

Well, I kept my eye out for a few days...nothing. But let me walk into the Town of Normal office to chat up a few of my favorite people, and suddenly I'm "Celebrity". It turns out I made page 4 of the Pantagraph in today's paper (Monday - see below).


There's nothing like free publicity, and the window illustrations looked great, but I feel less than flattered in my old man's beat up hoodie and magic gloves holding a tiny little roller while bent over; I'll still take it, though. Note also that now everyone knows A) the name of my business; B) where it's located; and C) when I'm looking to open.

Now, if only I could speed up the getting open part of the equation. Apparently, I find myself once again at the mercy of a draftsman with multiple projects on his plate. My contractor made his final revisions to our plans, and sent them back to the architect. The draftsman employed by the architect is in charge of making those changes and kicking them back to us. Every time we get him involved we hit a time snag. I'm very much hoping that when I wake up in the morning the plans are complete and printed. If they are, then my contractor can pay a visit to the building inspector - who puts us in a queue for an official plan review. While we await said review, the contractor pulls together final cost estimates, shows them to me, then tries to revive me with smelling salts and prays he doesn't have to resort to CPR after I pass out from acute sticker shock.

Assuming I survive, he then goes to his superintendent, subcontractors, and carpenters and hammers out for them exactly what they'll be doing (if they ask nicely, he may give them their very own copy of the plans). In the rosiest of scenarios, this should be complete by early next week. For my next store, I'm going to build it in a deserted, unincorporated section of a desert somewhere and build a thriving university around it. Just seems easier than dealing with these myriad complications.

In a positive development, I finally got around to checking out the Illinois State Hookah Bar, and was able to meet one of their owners, Steve Peak. They will be opening Thursday (if all goes well), after perhaps two months of do-it-yourself renovation. It really makes me wish I weren't dealing in the realm of food. That aside, their place looks fantastic - a major bonus for the whole Downtown Normal area. For once, someone under 21 will actually have a reason to come our way for something other than food. What's really sweet is, should hookah loungers find themselves hungry while puffing away, Steve is more than happy to place an order for them from D.P. Dough or other restaurants in the area and have us deliver it to them (due to the town-wide restaurant smoking ban, they are not allowed to prepare food on site).

I'm never allowed to feel too good in any given day; thus, it was the job of the town and its liaison to the design review commission to pull me back from any cloud I might have been on. It turns out that they will be requiring me to put a 6-foot-tall wood or wood-composite fence around my outdoor walk-in cooler. I will also have to similarly screen my dumpster on three sides. I may or may not get matching funds from the town as part of their facade improvement grant program - I consider this to be facade work, albeit to my highly visible rear facade, since it abuts a railroad track near the Amtrak station. Unfortunately, my opinion in this matter goes about as far as the Cubs in October: not very.

Finally, the trip to Champaign went well. David has decided to officially come on board; he had withheld final judgment until he had tasted a 'zone for himself and deemed it worthy of his time and effort (his first 'zone: a Roni Zoni). It turns out we picked a great night to help out. Champaign was short one or two people, and had temporarily run out of dough; thus, our first task was to frantically cut and roll dough balls. After that, we replenished the folded box supply and started making some 'zones. I spent some time taking orders, as well - I asked one caller five times to clarify whether he had said "Chief" or "Cheese" (having already confused the two once, I was hell bent on not letting it happen again). We had a fairly busy night altogether, and time flew after 1 AM - we didn't get home until 4:30 AM. Humor for the night was supplied by one of the last drunk customers, who asked about a hundred times "is that a Roni?" as each 'zone came out of the oven. Of course, like most bored and impatient drunks, he threw a few insults our way, as well.

I had hoped to finish painting the store on Sunday morning, but was thankful to have slept in when a monsoon hit at 11 AM. After watching my storefront cry purple tears after the last time I tried to paint in a downpour, I was loathe to try it again.

So that's where it stands at the moment. I realized today that I really haven't heard from my banker in about a month - since we met in Champaign to sign all the necessary SBA papers. That's never a good sign, at least not when the funds have yet to be released. Thankfully, I'm still paying people out of my own funds, but once it's time to pay the contractor and order equipment, my meager savings will prove woefully inadequate.

Not sure what's on tap for Tuesday - maybe I'll start spending some more of these uneventful days in Champaign actually learning to run a D.P. Dough...or maybe I'll be lazy, stay at home, not learn anything, and fly by the seat of my pants when I open my doors. Maybe.