Continued from Part II
I met Anna L. at the same time as I was working in partnership with Anna S. Both were Jewish Russians and both seeking financing to start their own business.
Anna L. had none of the intelligence nor glamour of her counterpart. She was the archetype of a Russian peasant: brutally forceful with a figure like a bouncing ball. She cared not a jot what she wore or whether her clothes matched.
Anna was a single mum, operating a 600 sq. foot kitchen within the bowels of Roxboro Mall in Calgary. The eaterie thrived in a dark, narrow burrow beneath a 120-unit condo building. A Jewish client took me there for lunch. We had to queue behind a half-dozen patrons. Once we gained entry – there were only four tables which filled up as soon as one set of customers left-we had to wait half-an-hour for our food to arrive.
The space was so cramped that an open kitchen ran into the dining area. We watched as Anna worked on a regular kitchen stove in front of us, with only a cutting table and a small pantry for her supplies. Like the mall corridor, the room was dark and uninviting.
The food arrived. Anna specialized in Russian and Jewish foods. It was heavenly! The first time I had tasted such food. There was no menu, only Anna bellowing her dishes for the day while cursing at her stove. I began with Borscht-a beet soup- the only item I was familiar with. It was the best I ever tasted.
“Try these,” Harry dumped cheese dumpling, potato pancakes and cabbage rolls onto my plate. Our desserts were crepes filled with thick jam and berries. Whatever I tried, it was delicious, making me want to come back for more. Observing the other patrons, I noticed they were not discomfited by their dark, cramped quarters or the lack of a menu. They seemed to know what they wanted. There was a daily special. Every Monday it was one dish. Tuesday, another and so forth. These customers knew and ordered without asking Anna.
Harry introduced me to the proprietor as his accountant. “Do you have a business card? “ she asked. The next day Anna called me.” Can you come and see me after work?”
The last of her customers were drifting away as I entered. Before I could say hullo, she dumped a mountain of homemade cookies and blueberry muffins in front of me along with a mug of strong coffee.
“The shop at the front of the mall, one that faces the street, is closing. It’s 3,000 square feet. The mall owner has offered the spot to me. The location is perfect. It’s in front of a bus stop on a major street. I need $100,000. Can you prepare a business plan for the bank? I need it right away.”
A week later, as I was still massaging the numbers, Anna called.” You have to help me. I’ve handed my notice in to vacate by the end of next month. There’s a new tenant coming in. Meanwhile, I’ve signed a lease for the 3,000-foot space,” she blurted. “If I can’t find the $100,000, I’ll have no income. I have a 10-year-old to support. Do you know anyone who can lend me the money?”
I sat in a daze. What was I supposed to do? Based on Anna’s financial position, a bank would never come to the table. She had no experience in running such a large operation. Apparently. Her customers-many of them very rich- only had an appetite for her cooking, not her business.
Today, as I recall Anna L, George Bernard Shaw’s quote about “ Youth is wasted on the young” rattles in my head.
I could have refused Anna, charging her for the business plan. Since I was a toddler dandled on my mother’s knee, she drummed into me “ Son, NEVER own a restaurant or an haute couture boutique for ladies only, especially when both your partners are Jewish Russians with the same first name.” How many times she repeated this to me. Mum was either psychotic or psychic. Probably both.
But I was 26 with an IQ of 200+ and enough know-how to fill the Empire State Building. I was infallible.
I rose to the challenge, even though I was in the middle of seeking financing for operating my high-end ladies’ store with Anna S.
“Anna, I’ll find you the money… but for 50% of the business. I’ll keep the books. You do the rest.”
Beyond the braggadocio , could I find the money… and in time?
