When Shit Got Real

When all the research is done and your business plan wouldn’t be completely laughed out of Dragon’s Den and you can’t waste anymore time reading ‘How to run a Business for Morons’, it’s time to get going. We registered Lanther Black as a limited company in December and never have I felt more like a seven year old masquerading as an adult. I am the director of a company. More to the point, Jack is the director of a company. Jack got stuck between the desk and the wall yesterday trying to unplug the printer. Instead of helping, I stood pointing and laughing and sent pictures to everyone we know. What the fuck have we done? 

But today, shit really got real. Our stock arrived. Millions and millions of boxes of cards landed on our doorstep like a newborn baby - you know it’s coming but now it’s here you have no idea what to do with it. Actually, that’s not a bad analogy. Starting a business is very much like parenthood. When our little bundles of cards first arrived, we were beside ourselves with excitement. We did this! We created it and grew it. Half of Jack, half of me. And now it’s in our house and it’s beautiful and it’s remarkable and we’re so proud. We embrace and maybe shed a little tear and then one of us remarks that it’s a little bigger than we expected but that’s okay, we can totally handle this but then slowly the doubt creeps in and the panic starts to course through our veins, stronger, stronger until OH MY FUCKING GOD WE’VE GOT TO SELL THIS!!!

And that’s what we’re dealing with now. As I write this, I am hidden, trembling, in a fort that I’ve made out of the boxes. Jack is trying to coax me out with a Mars bar but it won’t work. The weight of all of these cards is sat squarely on our shoulders and it won’t lift until we figure out a way to shift them. We need a plan. An evil genius sort of plan. What would Voldemort do? (I’ve instantly regretted my choice of evil genius, Voldemort can’t possibly help us here. Unless we’re planning to run away and hide out in Albania.) 

I’m feeling completely conflicted. One half of me, let’s call her Optinique, has complete confidence in our work. Our cards are great, people are going to love them. We’ve put a lot of time and effort into this and it will pay off. The other half of me, Pessinique, is all like, ‘Who are you trying to fool Optinique? These cards suck. You suck. Let’s go to Albania.’ And I’m sat in the middle, wondering which way it’s going to pan out. Greeting card anyone?