On 14th Oct this year we handed over the management and all control of our restaurant to someone else. Last year on the same date (too many coincidences with dates in this whole story) G had quit his job and announced that he’s starting this restaurant. We opened doors to business on 7th Nov’14.
It was not even his dream; it was mine. And he gave it everything he had. His passion was real estate. I’m glad he did start his dream project and that we will still finish it. Yet, he worked 24/7 for the restaurant because I wanted it. He’d get up at 4 in the morning to put pamphlets in the newspapers. He’d stay in the restaurant till 1 am. He ran from pillar to post getting approvals, forming alliances, finding staff and managing them. He poured his sweat and blood in to this enterprise. And we had to give it away! None of us could do what he did, so we chose the easier route.
I hadn’t stepped in at the restaurant since his death. The day we were handing it over I had to stop by and give some cash. I didn’t want to go up, I didn’t want to see it, but some morbid impulse took me up the steps. That day one of our partners and my brother-in-law were making an inventory to include in the handover document. Everything was out – plates, spoons, tables and chairs were moved, the new manager had already brought in his stuff. It was dismantling right before my eyes.
When G had died and people asked me what I want to do with the restaurant, my first response was “shut it down”. He never wanted to do it, and now I didn’t want it either. I had to finish his dream – the beach properties – and focus on having the baby. But I couldn’t disregard the faith our partners had showed us when we went to them for funds. They had invested in us and I couldn’t let them down. It was more their decision than mine. And his brother worked with them instead of me to facilitate this handover.
But as much as I wanted to stay away, seeing it being passed on didn’t feel good. I could just see him there at the cash counter, talking to customers, managing the kitchen, running deliveries when orders overflowed – and now all that hard work was going down the drain – unrecognized. It felt so horrid! So I ran from there, barely stopping the tears and I let it be handed over.
With this another chapter closed; another dream died. I don’t know how much of this I can take.