I spend a good
deal of time working out business plans in my head for my million-dollar ideas.
Like my blogging, these ideas rarely go further than my gray matter. I’ve
always thought it would be fun to be a business owner, except for the hard
work, long hours, financial, legal and business sides of it. I like the idea
part, the throwing a grand opening part and the rolling around in wads of cash
each night part.
But the hard
part with all the work? Not so much. I used to think it would be fun to own a
bar. Then I tended bar for about an hour and realized Cheers was not accurate
in its portrayal of bar owners. (Apparently in real life, you have to know a
lot about drinks and handle money.)
One of my
prouder ideas is a place I call “Amnesty.” (I’m still working on the name.) It
came about because a few years ago, I got summoned for grand jury duty. I was
told to report to the federal courthouse in Alexandria at 10 a.m. on a certain
day. Unfortunately, I forgot about it. I remembered it around lunchtime. Oops.
Did you know
that the clerk’s office calls you if you don’t show up for jury duty?
I beat them to
the punch, calling to tell them I forgot, and that’s when a very stern-voiced
woman said, “Umm, yes, Mrs. Butler. We were just about to call you.”
Luckily for me, they had a 2 p.m. reporting session that day. Luckily for me,
the no-nonsense lady reminded me that no electronics would be allowed in the
courthouse. This was back in the day when I had a flip-phone, so I could easily
just leave it in my office and dash off to Alexandria on the metro.
The federal courthouse
in Alexandria is on one side of large grassy plaza. When I got there, the man
in front of me was stopped at the metal detector because of his cell phone. He
had taken the metro there as well and asked the security guy what he was
supposed to do. He couldn’t come IN with the phone, but he was going to be
cited if he DIDN’T show up. The guard told him he’d seen people go bury stuff
in the grassy plaza. I don’t know where the guy went, but he left the line. I asked
the guard what happened to stuff that people buried. He said, “Homeless guys
dig it up.”
BING! What you need near a courthouse is a store full of those
hotel-type safes where people could drop all their electronics as they run into
the courthouse. Maybe there’s wireless
and some tables where everyone would come and work on breaks. I’ve got some
work to do to flesh this idea out, although I do spend some training miles
working on it.
Do you know the
cupcake store Sprinkles? I was there a couple of years ago. They sell something
called a “frosting shot.” It’s exactly what you think it is. A little shooter
of buttercream, although they will give you a spoon if you’re not willing to
run your tongue around a little plastic container in public. Where’s the fun in
that? Frosting shots. What a silly idea. But then I started thinking
what other things could be made into shooters?
BING! Gravy shots. Thanksgiving gravy is delicious. I’ve been
known to have a gravy sandwich. Nice and flavorful with a hint of turkey. It
would be perfection in a shot glass. Maybe there’s chicken gravy or cream
gravy. I’m still working on the concept, but I’m open to hearing ideas for
names.
I think Heaven
is probably full of hammocks. Hammocks are rarely out in the full sun; they’re
always in a nice shady place. Nothing bad ever happens to you in a hammock. Maybe
you oversleep and miss the beginning of happy hour at the pool bar, but that’s
about it. (Once, just as I was relaxing in a hammock, I looked up to see an
iguana sauntering down the tree to which my hammock was secured. My relaxing
moment effectively ruined, I scampered out of that hammock, cartoon-style. I
guess there are one or two things that can ruin hammock time.) In the Amsterdam
airport, there’s a darkened area on the second floor of the international
arrivals terminal where there are about 20-30 lounge chairs. Just what
overnight travelers need while killing time waiting for a connection, a nice,
quiet, comfy place to snooze.
BING! A storefront full of hammocks. Hammockland. This isn’t a
showroom, but rather a place to come for a nap or time to catch up on your
People magazine reading. It would be darkish in there. And quiet. And cool. You
could come in, have a nap and leave refreshed and happy. You’d be billed based
on your in/out time. Snoring not allowed. Headphones required. Iguana-free
zone.
I haven’t
trademarked any of these ideas, but try to hear “TM” in Phil Dunphy’s voice as
you read this. I feel confident that if any of you make a million dollars with
one of my ideas that you’ll be nice enough to share the wealth.
I need enough to
buy a hammock.
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