08/01/2024
Hey folks, Tyler here (just a warning this is long, but if you currently run - or are thinking about opening a small business - you might find this worth the read)
I am just about to lock up and head home tonight, and wanted to share my thoughts on 2023 and what it's been like running a small business over the last few years.
I am locking up around 7:30pm on a Sunday evening. I've been here since around 10am installing new acoustic treatment in the control room of the recording studio. I took this picture as I was coming in from my second trip to Lowe's about an hour ago (you never get everything you need on your first trip). As I was pulling in, the street was dark and the only light on the block happened to be the lights I'd left on glowing out of our little storefront. And I had this overwhelming feeling of pride, gratitude, and humility all at the same time.
See, Bri and I have technically been "off" from Gold City since December 23rd. But both of us have been occupied everyday, all day, except for a few family gatherings doing something to improve this place while our clients are absent. The truth is, you are never off when you run your own business. And it is hard. But what makes it worth it are the moments like I had tonight when I can look at everything we've built here and say "we did that."
Day-to-day I don't think about the individual things in this photograph, and most of our clients likely don't either. We all come here to share in our time together. But tonight when I look at this photo I see the furniture that I put together (tediously on another "night off") that sits around our stereo, where kids, teenagers, artists, musicians, parents, grandparents and people of all walks of life have sat, laughed, listened to music, viewed local artists' work, debated, cried - and lived.
I see my personal record collection and turntable sitting in what has become our second home, where the records that I picked out walking through many other little stores like ours, or that were given to me by my dad have filled this space with memories that were once just mine, but now belong to others.
I see the record racks that I built out of materials that were left here by the previous owners. Racks that I built with no idea what I was doing and that required many second and third trips to Lowe's to complete. Literal blood, sweat and tears went into building those racks - along with many words that are not appropriate for this post. But now new customers come in and flip through hundreds of future memories, moments and stories in those racks.
I see the sales counter I put together and at which I sat for the month of January 2021 inspecting and pricing over 2,500 records to seed our store.
I see the blank walls that have served as a temporary home for local artists' work. Paintings, photographs, collage and mixed media works have all been viewed, pondered, discussed, debated, challenged, praised, and sold off of these walls. And we have all shared many memories at the opening receptions where we come together to showcase the talent and individual vision of each artist.
But what you can't see in this image are the studio rooms down that hallway where albums (including mine and several others') have been recorded, mixed and mastered, where my band has rehearsed for our shows, where our students have learned, failed, succeeded, overcome, confided, cried, laughed, worshipped, loved, performed, grown, and made hours of music, and memories.
Bri and I have poured our entire selves into this little storefront, on this dark street, on many "days off" just like today. We have each given more of ourselves than we had to give at times, and fortunately the other was there to make up the difference. We have had times where we really thought we might not make it with this business, but we somehow always managed to. We have felt imposter syndrome, burnout, financial hardship, frustration with each other, and somehow we have kept going.
We love what we do. Truly. And neither of us could do it without each other and without the loving support of our community. 2023 was an incredibly difficult year for me personally - but the new year brings new opportunity. We don't have the biggest, best vinyl shop. We don't have a multi-million dollar recording facility. I am not a Grammy-award winning producer, and neither of us have a formal education in music.
But this place is truly our own - and we have built something that we know is special. Being a small business owner means giving up the stress of the mundane for the stress of uncertainty. It is often the case that you're flying through life just barely making it through each week. But there are some lucky moments - where it's quiet and you're locking up after a long day - where you get to step back and look at something that is truly your own.
Here's to 2024.