looking for new and exciting foods to sell.
I often fantasise about running my own deli one day, but know I’d never be able to afford it. So when, out of the blue, Eric and Amanda said they were opening a new branch in a tourist town up north, and needed someone who knew the business well to go and oversee the important opening and then run the branch, I jumped at the chance. Not only is this my chance to get as close to running my own deli as possible, the fresh start couldn’t have come at a better time.
I pull up outside a little stone building and it’s just perfect. Exactly what I had in my head when I conjured up my dream deli. It’s a small, standalone building that looks like it perhaps used to be a cottage. I’m guessing the stone walls have been sandblasted, because it looks almost like new, and unlike weather-beaten Apple Blossom Cottage, you can see all the different coloured stones that were used when it was built. There is a small, paved section out front, perfect for a few tables and chairs to be put out when we’re ready to open, and the walls are adorned with large, absolutely gorgeous hanging baskets. The only thing missing is the sign, which reminds me that it is my job to find a name for this place. The owners don’t want their delis to seem like chains, even though they technically are, because each deli is unique and deserves a unique name.
I quickly search my bag for some chewing gum. It’s weird how, when you forget to brush your teeth, you feel fine up until the point you realise you haven’t brushed your teeth, and suddenly they feel alien in your mouth. I spot a packet with a couple of pieces in that, truthfully, I don’t remember buying, but it’s not like I plan on swallowing it, is it?
Once again, I see the corner of the postcard poking out of my bag, the postcard I’m trying so hard to keep out of my mind.
As I chew the stale chewing gum, I glance over at the deli again. I’m just thinking about how perfect it is when I notice something propped up outside – it looks like a cardboard sign.
I step out of the car – which I always forget is lime green when I’m in it – and walk cautiously towards the sign.
It reads: ‘You’re making a misteak’ in large red letters. The spelling mistake stands out a mile in bright red letters but that isn’t enough to take away from the intimidating message. Is this meant for me? It can’t be…
I pick the sign up and look at the other side.
‘Burger off!’
This can’t be good…
When my bosses offered me this job they were keen to mention that it needed someone with both business and shop floor experience. They said that Marram Bay was a hugely popular coastal town, overflowing with tourists who would lap up a YumYum deli. I don’t think they would have sent me here if they didn’t think I was up to the job, but they did neglect to mention one small detail…
‘What do you mean no one wants us here?’ I ask Mike, the site manager.
‘No one wants us here,’ he repeats himself, just in case saying the exact same thing twice provides a little more clarity.
I blink.
‘The locals,’ he says in a strong cockney accent that makes me feel both comforted and homesick.
At YumYum we have an in-house team of fitters responsible for decking out the delis with everything they need. Mike is their manager and today he’s supposed to be showing me around, except there’s just this one little problem.
‘I saw the sign outside,’ I tell him. ‘Are you telling me one of the locals left that there?’
‘No, no. They left it in here, I just put it out there, ready to go in the skip. They had a protest, everyone had their little signs. That one was the butcher’s.’
That explains the terrible pun.
‘Why were they protesting?’ I ask.
Mike takes a battered looking iPhone from the pocket of his paint splattered jeans and taps the screen a few times before handing it to me. I notice that he’s calling Eric, one of the big bosses, so I hold the phone to my ear.
‘All right Mike, what’s the problem now?’ he asks, and it sounds like there’s been a lot of problems so far.
‘Eric, hello, it’s Lily,’ I say as brightly as I can manage.
‘Lily,’ he says, sounding a little sheepish. ‘You made it there OK then? You all settled in?’
‘Erm, it’s not exactly what I had in mind,’ I say, choosing my words carefully. I decide that now is not the time to mention the state of the cottage – I’m dealing with it anyway – so instead I get straight to the point about the deli. ‘Mike says no one wants us here?’
‘No,’ he replies.
‘No?’ I echo, staring to feel like a parrot.
Eric sighs deeply.
‘OK, so the locals have a bit of a problem with a chain opening, they want to preserve the town, not make it a clone of every other high street out there…so they put in a lot of objections with the council,’ he explains.
‘But, all the delis have different names and identities, so it’s not going to look like a clone. And the foods we sell, they’re from all over, and it’s not like we’re opening a butcher’s to compete with the existing one.’
‘I know, that’s why the council gave us the go-ahead to open,’ he assures me.
‘But?’
‘But the locals still aren’t happy. They think the deli is going to destroy the independent shops that define the community and that we’re going to damage local businesses. They say we’re targeting transient custom, people without roots in the community who don’t care about whether or not they enrich local economy over us, who they see as “the man”,’ he says with a bit of a chuckle. They might be a chain, but they’re not exactly ruthless business people.
‘So, what now?’ I ask.
‘So now it’s your job to convince them that a YumYum deli belongs in Marram Bay,’ he tells me. ‘I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want you to worry about it, to have this hanging over your head. If anyone can make this place a success, it’s you. You’re a hard-working single mum, not some ruthless businesswoman. Let people get to know the real you, tell them about how we operate, change their minds.’
‘And if I don’t succeed?’ I ask.
‘Well, at the moment they’re trying to prevent us getting our liquor licence,’ he tells me. ‘But don’t worry about it, OK? Just do your best. Amanda and I have faith in you.’
I feel my face crumple with stress.
‘OK, sure,’ I reply.
‘That’s our girl,’ Eric replies. ‘Call me anytime if you need me.’
‘OK, I will. Thank you,’ I say, hanging up and handing Mike his phone back.
‘Not
