Chapter Twelve - Samantha

No matter how many times I add up my budget, I can’t make the numbers line up right with a rent increase. Even trying to make it work with a single hundred-dollar-a-month increase leaves me a little short. I had known I was cutting it close – but not that close. I don’t know what I’m going to do. I keep looking for a corner I can cut without raising prices, lowering pay, or cutting staff. I don’t see one.

Everything is already so tight that we don’t have extra spending to cut. I keep looking, thinking that there is surely a switch we can make, and coming up empty. Any switch I can think of has been something a quick internet search tells me we’re already doing in the most cost-effective way. It shouldn’t surprise me. I always research everything before I do it. I’ve spent a lot of time making decisions for the center that I thought would benefit it for a long time to come.

Still, right now, I’m hoping I’ve made a mistake somewhere along the line and my budget has wiggle room because I’m going to discover we’re actually overpaying for electricity or cleaning supplies or something, anything.

I can’t find a single thing.

I suppose we could have a fundraiser, but that’s still asking my clients for more money, and it wouldn’t be a long-term solution. Plus, I’d have to find extra money to throw a fundraiser in the first place. When I first started the center, I got several grants and a couple of loans to get things up and running. The grants were mostly designed for young women with new business ventures – things to help you get your footing. I can’t find any tailored to women who’ve been running a business for a decade and who are hitting a rough spot. I suppose it makes sense. Those would just be prolonging the failure.

I’m frustrated and disheartened. To make matters worse, I can’t stop thinking about my fight with Lucas. I can’t believe what an ass he was. Actually, I can believe it – that’s exactly the sort of person I thought he was. That doesn’t make me any less angry about it, though. The thought that someone as self-important and full of himself as Lucas had called me self-righteous makes me see red every time I think about it.

I don’t know why I’m letting it get to me so much. I shouldn’t be letting someone like that under my skin. It’s a distraction, which is the last thing I need right now. But I can’t let it go. I keep replaying the fight in my head, thinking of things I wish I’d said or done differently.

I know I shouldn’t have gone over to him in the first place. I shouldn’t have sought out a fight with him. It’s not like me to seek a fight, but I’ve been under so much stress lately that it had almost felt good to yell at him. The way he responded and the things he said make me think that maybe it was for the best. If a guy like that who thinks like that is going to be in the neighborhood, trying to drive me out of business, then we were going to have a confrontation about it sooner or later anyway.

I just wish I could get him out of mind now that it’s over. I wish I could clear my head of all my thoughts of him. Even when I’m working out, totally in the moment and getting my adrenaline going, he keeps showing up in my thoughts. It’s not helping my overall bad mood at all. It’s certainly not making these numbers add together any better.

I take a long sip of tea, trying to breathe. I’m scanning the lines for what feels like the hundredth time when something catches my eye. Not a way to save money, but maybe a way to make it.

A few years ago, a client had requested to use the space for a birthday party. We’d worked out a one-time deal and the day had been a great success. Looking at the itemized listing on the spreadsheet now, I’m wondering if we couldn’t offer more services. I open a blank document on my computer and start to type out ideas.

We could offer rentals for parties or maybe private lessons with my teachers. I think if I could come up with a list of extra things to offer, I could send out an email and a flyer to my clients asking if they’d be interested in the services. I could even put flyers around the neighborhood.

I don’t know if there will be any interest, but it’s worth a try.

I text all my staff to let them know we need to make time for a meeting this afternoon. I want to get their ideas and feedback on this too. Maybe they’ll have thoughts on additional things we could offer as well.

“A meeting about what?” Julia asks, sticking her head in my office door a few seconds after I send the text. She looks worried, like maybe she thinks I’m announcing we’re going to be shutting down before the fight even begins.

“Brainstorming,” I say, “I’m thinking of having us offer more services.”

“Oh! To bring in more money?” Julia asks.

I nod. “Exactly. Remember when we hosted a birthday party a few years ago? I was thinking we could do more of that,” I say.

Julia grins. “That seems smart,” she says. I know she’s been worried about the development across the street. We all have.

“I hope so,” I say. “Will you let everyone know so they can start thinking of ideas?”

“You got it,” Julia says.

After talking to Julia, I feel a little bit better. It’s not a solution. It may not result in anything at all. It’s an idea, though, and that makes me feel more hopeful than anything else has lately. An idea is at least a start. An idea is a feeling that this isn’t hopeless after all. With an idea, I’ll have the motivation to actually try to fix this and save the business. With an idea, it feels a lot more like a real possibility.