I hope I’ve made my point
I cherish our local institutions.
Family businesses, small shops where the owners are proud of and “sign” their work.
First Cup was, in my mind, the absolute best case in point of that which makes our village what it is.
For many, this space, meant more than coffee and good food, it meant community.
Great coffee, homemade food, warmth, welcome, meeting old friends, making new ones, gossip and book talk — all a part of the service that Karen, Jessie and Diana shared every day.
Every day!
Jessie thought about selling the business. She thought about going back to school.
These were options on her plate. She did not think about closing the business. She and her family had invested too much, too much money , time and self in First Cup to leave it.
But they are leaving and not of their own volition.
This one of those stories that revolves around the idea that, to quote a line from “You’ve Got Mail.” “It’s not personal. It’s business.” Yeah, sure.
The sign outside said that they have lost their lease. And they have.
The new owner of the building, texted Jessie and told them they had to be out by Dec. 1. TEXTED! Did you get that? TEXTED!
First Cup is a business with inventory and furnishings and hardware, all of which are investments by the owners that will never be recouped.
OK, the business person will say that the owner of the building can do anything he wants with it, within zoning laws. All business is vulnerable. Loss can happen to anyone in business.
Sometimes things happen that are beyond your control. That’s all true.
That’s the bottom line. And it’s bottom all right, right down at the very bottom where money meets moral fiber.
There are better ways, more empathetic ways, more compassionate ways to tell the family owned business, much loved by the community, that they will lose their livelihood.
Texting is not one of those options.
How would the new owner’s life experience lead that person to believe that texting disaster was a “good thing?”
Ask Karen, Jessie and Diana how it made them feel. How did it compound the loss?
Many have suggested that Karen, Jessie and Diana find another place to operate.
Even if that were possible, the cost of moving and building a new kitchen would be beyond their ability. So much for that.
What has happened to civility, to good manners, to a very real sense that the bottom line will always be personal to those affected?
There are those of us who were raised to believe that we have some responsibility for our actions; those of us who would think better than to TEXT disaster to these women.
I will dearly miss my coffee and my sometimes (because I am always dieting) homemade breakfast bar.
I will miss the conversations with friends and the discussions about books with the owners.
I have long memories of this building — way back to when it was Orr’s Hardware and later, Bill’s Books. I’ve enjoyed the evolution of this coffee shop from its beginnings as the Beanery to its oh, so fine settling- in as First Cup.
Sure this reflects my feelings of loss, but in the midst of today’s coarser, less empathetic culture, I am hoping that we can learn from this — in the matters of the world — a small thing, but in the matters of how we treat others, a big thing.
I wish Karen, Jessie and Diana only the best.
I hope that the idea that when one door closes that others open is still operating in Marcellus. My wish for them is that they find solace in the outpouring of support that they have received from their customers.
It doesn’t do much for their bottom line, but it does elevate the discussion to know that we understand. It sure doesn’t translate into dollars but it does into sense.
I keep seeing a replay of a scene in the old Frankenstein movies where the disgruntled villagers come to the castle with pitchforks and such to make their point.
I have no pitchfork but I do hope I’ve made my point.
