Ah, the sweet taste of nostalgia! And Kool-Aid (which actually did the quenching)!
Oh, wait, it also reminds me of childhood cavities, which sorta sucks, since … well, cavities.
Wanna take a walk? Let’s take a cozy walk down memory lane to a sun-soaked summer day when I was about six or seven. There we were, my friend Jen and I were brimming with big dreams and even bigger ideas—specifically, the idea of selling lemonade. Why lemonade? Blame it on our childhood TV cravings. You know those classic shows from that painted a picture of small-town charm? Yeah, we thought we’d hop on that bandwagon too (actually we thought we’d stand behind a cardboard box and sell sugar, it works for the soft drink industry)!
With visions of dollar bills dancing in our heads (which is actually pretty funny if you actually think about it), we called upon our trusty sidekicks—our moms (these our life’s true heroes)—for help. And boy, did they deliver! We whipped up a batch of lemonade so tart it could probably grant wishes if you squeezed it hard enough (who even says this anymore?). But wait! We weren’t stopping there; we also made some Kool-Aid, because why not, its bright and fun and sweet? If one sugary beverage is good, two must be better, right?
Now here’s where things got interesting (for two six year olds). We fashioned our very own stand complete with a sign that screamed “LEMONADE” (though we spelled it “LEM-O-NADE,” because that was our brand) in bold letters—if only I had known then how “professional” signage might have helped us attract more customers (spoiler alert: it wouldn’t have). Still, the stage was set: the sun blazed down like it had its own agenda for the day (and truthfully, it probably did), and we felt ready to conquer the world (our our street).
Except… reality hit harder than we expected. After what felt like an eternity—or maybe just an hour—we had sold four cups of lemonade. Just four! Four stinking cups, though they din’t stink, at least I don’t think so. Was this some cosmic joke on Jen and Chrish? Where were all the thirsty passersby, or at least kids in the neighborhood with money to spend? Perhaps they were too captivated by their own childhoods to notice us waving brightly colored cups like flags at a parade.
And then came the moment came (success you ask, no)—the great wasp attack! Oh yes, nature decided to intrude on our entrepreneurial venture with an army of buzzing baddies that seemed bent on ruining our day. They weren’t killer wasps like today. Don’t worry; no one got stung. Thank goodness for small mercies! But let me tell you—this little incident sent us running for cover faster than you can say “lemonade stand” or actually “wasp, run!”
In the end, after much deliberation and possibly some tears (okay, maybe just mild disappointment which is also worth crying about), we called it quits for the day. We divided what little money we made—$1 each—and then promptly realized that after factoring in costs for supplies… well folks, let’s just say we owed our parents about $10 each. Sorry mom, I swear I’ll pay you back someday!
From such humble beginnings blossomed something much bigger within me—a spark ignited by laughter, purple sticky fingers from Kool-Aid spills, and lessons learned through trial and error (mostly error, but the real errors were yet to come). That tiny lemonade stand may not have been financially successful but oh boy, did it get my entrepreneurial flame burning bright, id just overlook it for another decade!
So here’s what I’ve learned since that fateful day (okay, I’ve learn more than this let’s be honest, that was a long time ago): every business journey starts somewhere (it’s true)—even if it’s armed only with some cups of lemonade and a swarm of angry wasps as your antagonists. Embrace those moments (and run from the wasps); they shape who you are today.
And who knows? Maybe someday you’ll find yourself sipping on something stronger than lemonade (like Bacardi) while reminiscing about your first business venture too—or at least laughing at how far you’ve come (Jen and I are still friends) from those days spent hustling on sunny sidewalks with nothing but dreams in your pockets (to be honest, none of my pants had pockets back then, and the ones I have now are so laughably small). Cheers to past failures that pave the way for future successes! <- If nobody really smart said that before me, I said it first.