I don’t know why my parents chose to live in a neighborhood with so many old
people, but it inspired a business opportunity that taught me the skills
that I would need later in life. We were rich, so that wasn’t a problem, but
I wanted to make my own money without their help, and I didn’t want to do
that just by flipping burgers at a fast food restaurant. Not that there’s
anything wrong with that, but growing up with my lifestyle, it would have
looked like I was just trying to rebel. I also needed to do something
interesting, so I could put it on my college application. When I said we
were rich, I didn’t mean that we were one of the families that ruled the
world. My dad couldn’t just write a check to an Ivy League school, and get
me into any program. I still had to prove myself, and my academic record was
average to slightly above average. One day, I was watering the flowers in my
mother’s front garden when I noticed the old lady next door receiving a
pizza delivery for the third time this week. She didn’t seem like the type
to like that kind of food; not that much anyway. I hadn’t seen any teenagers
come and go, so it just looked really weird. I thought about asking her
about it, but that could be embarrassing for her, so I just tried to put it
out of my mind. A few days later, the delivery boy was back, so I decided to
confront him about it. He told me that he didn’t really know, but she made
it sound like she couldn’t get her own food because of her mobility issues.
When she was having trouble with her hips, she just ordered in, and since
she didn’t like Chinese food, pizza was the only choice. The only choice?
That was a travesty. Someone ought to do something about that, I figured. I
was technically someone.
I had just turned sixteen, and had my own car. I could have easily been a
delivery boy, but working for one store would not have solved the problem
that this woman was facing. So instead of going to the restaurants, I went
straight to the people in the community. With help, I compiled a list of the
oldest and least mobile people in my neighborhood. Then I just knocked on
their doors, and pitched them my business plan. It was simple. When they
needed food—and they didn’t want pizza or Chinese—they could call me with
their order. I would drive to the restaurant myself, and bring it back to
them. I charged them fifty cents for the service, which was a lot more than
the pizza joints were charging for it in 1964, but I was providing them an
unprecedented convenience. I could travel to any place in a twenty-mile
radius that had a pick-up option. I even later expanded my partner list by
convincing sitdown restaurants to make an exception for me. I mostly worked
by myself, but my older sister helped me out when her school was on break.
If any of this sounds familiar, that’s because this sort of thing happens
all the time now. There are a handful of companies that provide the same
thing with an application on your phone. It’s so common now, it’s hard to
believe that it ever wasn’t. I laugh when people ask me whether I think all
those companies stole my idea. No, I wouldn’t say so. I was in such a niche
market, and before all that technology. You can’t really say they were much
alike. I never would have thought to grow that large. It was just about
making a little cash, and giving me an edge for college applications. I
shuttered my small business when that actually came to fruition, but that
experience gave me insight that my business school classmates didn’t have. I
did well, and learned everything I needed to know to start my nationwide
flower delivery service.
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