Cool Table Running

Sometimes, I try to escape.

Whether it is with selling, designing a new product, acting, writing, teaching, or whatever I can think of, I try to figure a way out of this accounting profession box I have put myself into.

One of the attempts was Pacamania.  We sold trading cards and comic books at a trading card show held every two weeks in Kennesaw, Georgia near Town Center.  I say we because it involved my two young sons, Greg and Doug, and I thought it would be a great way for us to do something together and bond.

One of the ways to sell trading cards was not just in the pack (ergo, the name Pacamania), but in complete sets, all the cards collected and sold in a plastic box.  But that process produced a lot of duplicate cards that were fairly worthless and hard to sell.  So I had the brainstorm of creating grab packs, containing cards from a variety of sets, but also included the possibility of a chase card  (a rarer subset of a card set, often done in special metallics or gloss).  The kicker was the special Pacamania discount card inside, entitling you to anywhere from 25 cents to $5 off your next purchase.  I had these cards laminated, and there was one per pack, so everybody "won' something.

The Grab Packs were very successful at first.  Too successful.  After a few months, the owner of the trade show came to me and told me I had to stop selling them.  They were too close to 'gambling" and they wouldn't allow it anymore.

Still, I struggled on.  We were primarily comics and non-sports trading card, and all but one other vendor were sports related.  We had all stuff laid out on a large rectangular white table, covered with displays of cards and comics, some even up on special racks and shelves.  Customers often wanted to wrangle price, to the point that it was below your cost, and others wanted to trade you stuff that was worthless for stuff that was valuable.

It was a constant battle, and I think my boys wearied of it.  They would wander away from me, and spend more and  more time at the other table that sold non-sports merchandise.  They were a couple who did more shows than I did, and even though it was the early nineties, they were in the process of developing online sales.  They bough in much larger bulk than I did, and were able to often sell stuff for less than I was able to purchase it wholesale.  When my boys were over there, it was more relaxing for them, as they did not have to sell - just talk about the things they liked.  They didn't want to spent time at Dad's table.  They wanted to spend their time at the "cool table."

Later on, at a time when I was even more seriously trying to escape, I partnered with a romance book specialist and started a bookstore in downtown Rome, Georgia.  I was determined to make it work.  I was going to do just like the business books say - I was willing to sacrifice anything to make it work.  I worked incredible hours, including still doing Pacamania on the weekends.  I sometimes slept in the back of the store, and I took a night shift job stocking a Super K Mart.  I poured all my money and heart and soul into it.  But what the books don't tell you, is it's not only you that has to sacrifice.  Sooner or later, you have to cause other people to sacrifice around you.  You start taking their time and resources as well.  And that I couldn't so.  So after less than a year, I sold my interest in the bookstore and went back into accounting full time.

Inside my office is a long rectangular white table.  It is not the 'cool table'. I use it to keep assignments that have come in that I need to get to.  I need to keep them in my line of sight or I will forget about them.  I will lose focus and I won't remember that they are there.

It is a reminder every day to reach out to the cool table.  To run to it, however slowly, however long it takes.

I write.

I act.

I enjoy time with loving family and caring friends.

I dream.

Maybe I will never make it to the cool table.  Maybe that isn't even the point.  Maybe the journey is the thing.

Running in slow motion towards the cool table.  Learning to appreciate each moment that you strive.

What else could be better?