In my March, 2003 column, I made a list of the reasons I'm glad to be out of retail after 20 years in the aquarium business. Most of the questions I've gotten from readers over the years are directly related to getting started in the fish biz, and while I really am enthusiastic, supportive and encouraging to those of you who are answering your Sirens (I'm one of you, after all), I've developed a feeling of obligation to issue a heads up about what's really involved. It's hard to watch an enthusiastic and driven, but blind aquarist plunge into a start-up where all the signs scream impending doom. Because of that, a lot of those discussions have contained some or all of the negatives I mention in the column, plus a list of more important ones, like too small a market area, over-specialization, under-funding, lack of business skills, etc. Hopefully, those of you burning to carry on the tradition of the quality, hobbyist-oriented, independent aquarium shop don't get too discouraged when I go negative. I suspect my admonitions don't impact a lot of feasibility studies or sway way too many business plans (you have done a feasibility study and developed a business plan for your new store, right?), but they do salve my conscience. In that vein, I give you the following parable.
In one of his books, Lawrence Block tells a story about a young man who cornered a world famous violinist and begged to be allowed to play for him. If the master offered him encouragement, he would devote his life to music. But if his talent was not equal to his calling, he wanted to know ahead of time so he could avoid wasting his life. He played, and the great violinist shook his head. "You lack the fire," he said.
Decades later the two meet again, and the would-be violinist, now a prosperous businessman, recalled their previous meeting. "You changed my entire life," he explained. " It was a bitter disappointment, giving up music, but I forced myself to accept your judgment. Thus, instead of becoming a fourth rate musician, I've had a good life in the world of commerce. But tell me, how could you tell so readily that I lacked the fire?"
"Oh, I hardly listened when you played," the old master said. "That's what I tell everyone who plays for me - that they lack the fire."
"But that's unforgivable!" the businessman cried. "How could you do that? You altered the entire course of my life. Perhaps I could have been another Kreisler, another Heifetz -"
The old man shook his head again. "You don't understand," he said. "If you had had the fire, you would have paid no attention to me."
OK, so I have a penchant for hokey parables, I know. The one about the hot dog salesman also works well here, if you want another one.
When I started the Tropical Shop, I had the fire, and it carried me. Having the fire has also carried me through building a restaurant and buying a pet store out of bankruptcy and turning it around to profitability. It was also the diminishing of that fire that was one of many factors telling me it was time to step aside after twenty one years in the aquarium business.
Don't get me wrong here. It takes much more than "the fire" to succeed in a small business, especially one with the unique challenges presented by the tropical fish industry. You better have business sense and skills, financing (or a hefty bank account), an understanding of, or a curiosity to learn, everything from biology to marketing, advertising to customer relations. Having the fire is just what makes you apply these skills to the max; what makes you perform above and beyond the competition.
I have always believed that the locally owned, quality, hobbyist-oriented, independent aquarium shop is the single biggest driving force behind the hobby. If you are fortunate enough to have such a store in your trade area, count your blessings, for the real good ones are rare. If you run one of the good ones, or are trying to open your own shop, more power to you, and may you always keep the fire.
“Do you miss it?” That question is always raised within the first few seconds anytime I run into former customers, employees, sales reps, competitors (especially competitors), and anyone else whose acquaintance relates back to my incarnation as owner of The Tropical Shop. In a run of twenty years, five months and three days, that is a lot of people, which means, in the time since I liquidated my store and closed the doors for good, I’ve gotten many opportunities to refine and reconsider the answer.
At first, I was always quick to respond “Not at all. I’m working fewer hours for more money, getting weekends and holidays off, paid vacations, and I’m not in retail. What’s to miss?” I believe psychologists call it denial, and I’m certain that in a life-changing event such as this, a person goes through something very similar to the stages of the grieving process. So, bottom line, no bull, just between you and me, a year and a half after closing, do I miss it? Yes. Am I sorry I did it? No. Would I go back? No.
When I sat down to think about the question and really come to terms with it, one of the first things that came to mind was one of my all time favorite song lyrics: “I’m so miserable with you gone, it’s almost like you’re here.” I was prompted to this introspection after discussions with former competitors on a few occasions. They were the people I could tell were asking because they truly wanted to know. They weren’t asking just to make conversation or out of the morbid curiosity of someone passing a fatal accident on the highway of commerce. I could see them mentally weighing and filing away my response for reference the next time they found themselves reviewing options and reevaluating their situation, as you do periodically in a small business.
When The Tropical Shop closed, it was the oldest, longest running aquarium/pet shop in town. In twenty years, I had gone from the young punk rookie upstart, running on chutzpah and blissful ignorance of the minefield I was entering, all the way to the senior member of the club, the old man of the mountain. I know what other owners are going through, what they feel in the particular stage of development they are in. I also know that the independent retail aquarium business is facing more and greater challenges and pressures than it ever has. Big boxes, mail order, changing consumer habits, e-commerce, EPA and environmental pressures, legislatures, airlines; the assault on all fronts makes retail a more difficult undertaking than ever before, and that’s one big thing I don’t miss.
So, what else don’t I miss? To get the negative out of the way first, here it is. I don’t miss shoplifters and shysters, thieves and scammers, counterfeiters and credit card crooks that are a part of all retail. And, since I’m writing this in December, I realize I don’t miss the cynicism born of the fact that these things all get worse at Christmas time. I don’t miss 4 am phone calls from the alarm company, telling me I’d better get down to the store to meet the police. Three times over the years I had to shovel up broken glass and board up a gaping store front in the middle of the night because of those calls. I don’t miss waiting up until midnight to go to the airport for a livestock shipment, only to have the plane arrive late and without my cargo because it missed the transfer in Seattle. I can only imagine how much worse this problem has become since September 11. I also don’t miss the morning after mortality of a new shipment when the stress of the flight times coupled with winter cold and deteriorated water quality bring out the best in pathogens.
There is a common saying about small business that “you don’t own the business, it owns you”. When your inventory includes livestock, it really does make it difficult to differentiate who is working for whom. That’s another ball and chain I’m glad to be shed of. Perishable inventory is a gamble and an obligation on a daily basis, 24-7-365.
I do apologize for spending the bulk of my first column back in print dwelling on the negative aspects of the aquarium business, especially if it is a field of employment you’re considering. If that’s the case, view this as a simple “heads up” disclaimer and find the parable of “The Fire” I told in a column many years ago. I started with the downside to refresh my memory, if nothing else. Over time, I believe we have a tendency to forget or block out the negatives, and remember and embellish the good things (like the tee shirt says, “The older I get, the better I was!”). I have more than enough good to balance this out, I promise.
I’ll have more about the Tropical Shop’s swan song next month, but I want to finish with some new business. To accompany my return to FAMA and Over the Counter, I’ve developed a web log (yes, I confess to another bad habit – I’ve become a blogger) at www.birdsill.com. The idea is that the sight will provide additional information and background, maybe some extra insight, and a place to allow feedback, comments, and discussion. As an example, I posted “The Fire” mentioned above for those of you who have the desire or curiosity to see what that’s all about. It’s a work in progress, so expect it to change and develop as it goes. The only requirement is that you play nice. If you flame me too bad, I’ll just delete you! So, log on and tell me what you think about it, the column, the hobby, the industry… and next month, I’ll tell you what I do miss about the store, and why I’m back in FAMA (I missed some things about being here, as well).