The reading level for this article is Novice
So, I’m 18 and I’m opening a hookah bar. I was struck very hard in the head with an idea, and I simply have to go with it. Well, I don’t have to. But I’m 18 and I’m smart, and witty, charming, and dammit, I think.. no, I WILL pull this off. And every time I write or speak or think, I am in a constant state of self-correction because I am 18 and female and I am going to open a business.
After analyzing, reading, and otherwise scrutinizing my communications styles I have decided to change them. I am female, therefore my speech and communication style if full of “feeling” and “emotional” words and phrases. Things like “feel”, “think”, “believe”, “faith”, “hope”, and “luck” no longer have a place in my vocabulary. I am today’s woman, and I am 18 and strong and empowered and I embarking upon business.
I am into demographics. They predict how well the business will do and how effective my marketing will be, and how much people will spend. Then I am a demographic small single-member sample. I am 18 and female, and, like, from a Southern California beach city and Gen Y and, like, I am a minority disadvantaged woman small business owner.
So it’s a bar of sorts, so I need to play up the social element. I am turning the big One Nine next week. I have been doing product demonstrations at as many frat parties as humanly possible. I have been partying hard, studying well, going to work, keeping up with my sorority, and I am exhausted because I can’t sleep because, I am almost 19 and female and social and tired and I am a college startup whiz kid.
It’s my 19th birthday today. I spent last night partying, and when I came home hammered, I bypassed the toilet and went straight to the computer to bang away at some final pressing issues plaguing my important business plan before the impending morning haze drove them away. Last night, I forgot about my boyfriend and my friends and decided to have a bit more fun than the usual fraternity party product demonstration. Last night I was only 18, but now at 2 in the morning on the anniversary of my birth, I am 19 and young and rebellious and wasted and tired and diligent and I am the proprietor of an entertainment lounge.
It’s 10 am on the day of my birth and I receive a phone call. Hello Kimberly, you’ve been written up by your sorority and you’re in trouble. Why? Because you’re 19 and in our organization and we simply do not agree with the fact that you are going into business. Thank you. I say and try to go back to sleep. It’s now 11am on the day of my birth and I’m tired and someone else is calling me on my cell. Hello, Kimberly, you’ve been dumped by your boyfriend because you haven’t been spending quality time with him. Why? Because you’re 19 and busy and talking with businessmen and you’re young and beautiful and you haven’t let him take care of you like a boyfriend should because you’re starting a business. It’s now 11:30am. I’m lying in bed hurt and rejected. I’m 19 years old and young and tired and hung over and depressed and rejected and betrayed and an unethical workaholic opening a capitalist cesspool.
Running a credit report on myself was a bit of a chore today. I’m lonely and tired and optimistic and I’ve recently discovered how broke I really am. But it takes money to make money and dammit that’s what I am going to do. I am 19 and broke and tired and a starving student and a victim of credit card interest rates and a small-to-medium sized business entity borrower.
Today I’m pouring my soul out at a library at 9:32 on a Sunday night waiting for the preparation to end when I open the doors to my business. I could care less about everyone else now because the process to this point has separated my consistent friends from the inconsistent ones, those will balls from those without, and me as a 19 year old college student from I the Chief Executive Officer. At this point, I am an entrepreneur.