The more our clients used our vendor partners, the more familiar the partners became with our policies and procedures. It became easier to execute events from a vendor standpoint because, as a venue, all other hired vendors would be coming to our property. That’s somewhere between eight to ten other businesses trying to navigate working in our space.
I remember the day my mom asked me what I thought about trying this new thing. I was so excited to be in on a bigger-sized business decision. The ideas we exchanged back and forth (not a new thing, but different) were life-giving and raw creativity like I hadn’t experienced before.
I like to talk. Not all the time, and not without others getting a word in edgewise, but I’d rather have conversation than be silent in most cases. My mother obviously knew this, and from year one, she positioned me on the front line of battle.
The sun rises and the grass glistens with dew. The rays dip into the valley below and just miss the front porch, creating a quiet nook of shade. I leave my room with my purse and computer, and lock my door. As I slip under the rope that blocks our hallway, the first two staff members ring the doorbell.
Travel taught me what good food was; the garden taught me I could make it. As the two came together, I began to cook relentlessly, so much so, that it became part of Tuscan Hill. My mom wanted to provide dinner to our evening shift employees so I convinced her that it would probably be cheaper (and definitely more fun) for me to cook. And the era of “staff dinners” began.
Ever since I can remember we’ve been going somewhere. My mother is fearless. She taught me that nothing is impossible, including traveling any and everywhere. Always part work, part fun. What sparked my love for travel was our trip to Italy.
Our kitchen is the kind you dream about; the kind you see on HGTV. At first it was just really pretty to be in, but hardly used. I’d helped cook dinner many times, but otherwise never ventured past the microwave or toaster. As we settled in, my mom began to work like mad. Though she loves cooking, to this day the most time she spends in the kitchen surrounds the holidays.
With my newfound gratitude, my behavior began to improve, and although she had some residual fear, my mom rehired me for the third time. I had confidence that this would also be the final time; and I was right. I moved back home my sophomore year of college, and it was time to figure out how to really live in the same space as I worked.
I wish I could point to the specific moment when I stopped being an idiot, but there were many clarifying moments in my freshman year of college when I moved to the campus dorms.