Bearded Gang

Last week was probably the most charcuterie I’ve ever curated in a calendar week. Approximately 120 boxes and 16 customs. I’ve gotten better at delegating boxes to my two guys that assist me during the high volume days. I’ve got one who walks in the door and makes nothing but the large 18×18 boxes until he has to leave for his other job. My other assistant Barry makes nothing but the medium boxes. Muscle memory is key with this style of work. It took me three years to stop looking over their shoulders. I do all the in between boxes and then some. Could I do that entire week on my own? Probably but I wouldn’t be much use to anyone if it tried it. I don’t know what my max box total for one week is. I’ve done 30 plus boxes solo one day after a call in and it was a good time.. Last week was a good one. I don’t share financials on here it’s just tacky. I rarely keep my eyes on my P&Ls to be completely honest. I don’t forecast because this deli can be ridiculously inconsistent. Market stock has no cadence I can sell 3 items in one week or 20 in one day. Try maintaining that type of inventory on a consistent basis. You can’t. You won’t come close. I don’t crunch numbers anymore, I’ve never done monthly inventory nor have I checked my food cost. I have the capacity. I’ve trained dozens of people and places how to do it. It’s not that I don’t care or hold myself accountable I’ve just checked out on some old business practices. I’m not dumb yall it doesn’t take much to see if your line is read or black. I run a very tight business with a simple practice. Buy low when it’s slow, bust ass and build capital when it’s busy. Plus during this time of year I deplete my inventory twice a week. I get that anxiousness when I’m writing big purveyor checks for purchases but it fizzles out when my shelves are emptied at the end of the week. I pay my bills on time and play when I can. Work allows it. Works affords it. It’s easier to control with one or two employees instead of 110. Graze has a 4.9 rating on yelp and Google for a reason. We keep it manageable, fresh and consistent. I don’t micro manage anymore. I flow and keep it moving forward. I don’t give my assistant a schedule he comes in according to our daily schedule.

I’ve always said if my charcuterie could bloom every week like it does this time of year I could buy a good home in cash in three years. It’s the annual reminders that my body may not be able to handle that much stress for 52 weeks. Sure I could hire more help and then the consistency slides. Boxes become rushed, orders are missed and call-ins would wreck a whole week of work.

Money is good. It’s just not feasible to keep that pace up daily. Both of my employees were dragging by Saturday. Shoulders slumped, attitudes were sliding. The old Chad used to crack the whip when this happened. Now I slow things down so all can rest. It’s difficult to describe how this type of work affects your body. Maybe I’m more sensitive to it now.

Sunday I worked because I had two large customs along with prep for 45 mini boxes this morning. I’m not a fan of making little boxes. I’m already attuned to disliking anything that’s an assembly line and that’s all these boxes are. Today I have to tie those up and have 4 other boxes on my schedule. No resets this week. None next week until Christmas Day and let’s be honest Christmas Day isn’t a very relaxing one.

I’m not complaining I’m journaling my thoughts. There’s an energetic difference. I am missing my campfires though. Not so much this morning it’s 19° outside.

I’m only working three hours this morning so my perspective is a little bit better. I’ve learned over the last few years to do all my Christmas shopping in November before the rush. Before I did all my shopping the week before. I’m completely done. Stocking stuffers and all.

Yeah that’s a humble brag. Go me.

I’m officially in the middle of my lease. I’ve got a lot of things to discuss with myself in the new year. This deli hasn’t made up its mind what it wants to do with me yet. I’ve got some fun ideas for the next year. It’s not my fickleness showing through I like to keep things fresh. Ok a little fickle but this deli is my project. It’ll change with the flow until the day I close it or move it. The latter being the biggest possibility. Parking has always been a concern for me.

Once my work is done for the morning it’ll be a rest day. I’ve got a good book that needs reading and my brain will relax for the rest of the afternoon. I do get a little of that old vodka presence this time of year. The stress, cadence and wear and tear of my body calls out for it.

It’s an old mental phone call I won’t answer. A loop I’ve closed over time. I’m two weeks short of 4 years. 1444 days. It’s a good feeling when you have to use a calculator to figure it out. I’ve used every single one of those days to create the best version of myself.

Devotion

I still have a ways to go.

I do this from time to time to try to conjure up the other up what my intuition is trying to speak through me. I get up and I start writing about the first thing on my mind that pops in my head as I’m trying to motivate myself out of bed.

I woke up with the very familiar feeling of slight anxiety I get this time of year with work. Today will be a doozy, I have some orders Sunday and Monday which is usually my time to rest and next week is really ramping up. Days off are done for the month I try to squeeze in some downtime but next Monday is a beast and that means prep on Sunday to support it. It’s not the 7 day work week that gets me it’s the last minute surprises that take me into work at 4am that mess up my rhythm. I’m not complaining, I’m not humble bragging about my business I’m only authoring my holiday routine. Yes the business is great. It also takes a permanent piece of me away each time.

I woke up thinking about a thing I journaled about last year on December 27th. It wasn’t hard for me to find it the headline stuck out to me and generally that date in the last 5 years has been break between Christmas and my last big day New Year’s Eve. I read it to myself again and smirked at some things I had written. Going back and reading some of my journals I can pick out what I wrote and what the other guy wrote. The other guy I’m referring to would be the my higher consciousness. The real me. The much much older me, the one I’ve been trying to remember for quite some time. If you read this and think I’m into some new age crystal shit well you’re a million miles off. It’s much older than that.

Much older.

I intend to go into more detail sometime but this isn’t that time. I’ll only say that once it began waking me up I’ve never been the same. I’m not alone. There’s more out there than you think.

Anyhoo

I was rereading that specific journal entry because I was encouraged from my intuition. I got a little into my anxious feels yesterday as I was calculating my future itinerary. I’m in the thick of my season. I usually don’t write during this time but this one felt compelled so I went with it and it’s good for the soul to release a little word vomit.

Last year I wrote about how my life transitions after every December the last 5 years. Some subtle some major. It’s like I have to go through this ridiculous process of struggle for a month. I get put through the wringer and come out a different person. It’s not overnight it’s a cycle. It may take weeks, months but I go through a cocooning phase. I come out exhausted, broken.

But

I’m also grateful with a sense of cleansing and peace.

The entire month shakes up my comfort zones, schedules and routines that I’m very attached to. I don’t go into fight or flight I’m too distracted I get up and put on my clothes and head into work. I focus on what’s at hand and go home eat dinner and go to bed some nights as early as 7:30. I’ll do the same amount of charcuterie in a month that I normally do in 6. It’s a mental thing I’m not chopping wood for hours, I’m not using a wheelbarrow to build a pyramid it’s mental. If you’re a painter imagine being asked to paint 6 paintings in a day. I exhaust my creativity.

High volume arts and crafts I call it.

It’s a ritual of passage now and I get it. I get it so much that I look forward to the product that comes out of the other side. I’m a different person each time. If not different then I own a new perspective.

My first year of charcuterie was a fun one because I had no clue wtf I was doing and it was chaos from day one. We got it done though. The day after new years I boarded a plane for Hawaii and got to spend time with my family without the extension of a restaurant attached to my psyche. It was an amazing reset. First one I think I’d ever experienced or that I acknowledged. I also sold our family home the week I got back. Another reset of a place with some good memories and a lot of not so good memories. It was necessary and for some reason I feel like that month of struggle manifested the selling of our home. It would be the first step of my journey of reckoning. That other person inside of me recognized that house wasn’t meant to be and we needed to leave it behind.

The first 7 months at our new home was rocky as was my mental health. I wasn’t dealing with no longer being a restaurant owner very well. Working out of a small space while renting a tiny home downtown was humbling but I hadn’t swallowed it yet. It felt like a punishment not a reprieve. Our marriage rocked back and forth for months but we held on. That next holiday would be my first as a seasoned charcuterie guy in a real kitchen and I got my ass handed to me. Same as last year but I had a grasp on what I was doing. After that whooping I came out the other side with the notion to stop drinking. I did it quietly for two months and drove to Sedona to dissociate for a week. Once I got absorbed into the magic of that area my brain clicked and told me “Chad will no longer be a drunk”. And I’ve listened to him since. It had actually told me on my 50th birthday the year before but I was slow catching on.

2023 was a little tumultuous but I held on to my promise to put the bottle down. I dedicated that year to travel. I headed to Vermont, Arizona and Montana. I shed a lot of the old Chad from those trips. The brewery announced they were shutting down in October and that put me in a bad spot for a bit. I was struggling to find a kitchen just as my charcuterie season was kicking in. I got ghosted by a few people and did not want to do another high volume month in a 1000 so ft home. I didn’t have the space for it. Meadery saved the day but by then I was burned out by the volatility of this work. Once again I put my head down and went through the process of a getting my ass handed to me in another kitchen, another space to learn my parameters. Fourth different kitchen in 4 years.

When the year ended I sat still for a week and my mind told me “it’s been enough time. You’re ready” I looked at my finances and decided to plan for Grazeland. Two years of sobriety repaired my mental health enough to get back into the game. Different rules this time. I carefully planned out how I would operate my business and planted restrictions immediately.

2024 kicked my entire ass. Operation delays, slow take off, Covid, hurricanes and hand grenades for months. Empty bank account and exhaustion. For a month it felt like everyone forgot that I still did charcuterie. Then late October came around and I got my ass handed to me with orders for the rest of the year. I paid myself back from my work investment and I was able to relax once the dust settled. It was then that I recognized how I go through this marathon of struggle and come out the other end different. I even wrote “I’m interested to see what I become in 2025.” In my head I felt something or it was my heart.

It’s all related.

I looked at some keywords that I wrote last year

“Manifesting” I wrote that word probably a dozen times like it had just been introduced to me.

“Geometry”

“Enlightenment”

“Intuition”

Intuition was written quite a bit.

I stopped where I mentioned reckoning with my inner dialogue. When I read it again it pinged like a trail marker. When I wrote it out it didn’t have the same meaning it does now.

“Changing my inner thoughts”

I wrote it and discarded it

“2025” was the title of that entry

2025 was when my mind opened more than just a tad and a veil got pulled from my eyes.

The little voice in my head that said 2025 was going to be different wasn’t joking. It wasn’t my subconscious it was the quiet guy that has been lurking around for a few years. He wasn’t kidding man.

The world broke open for me in February and it hasn’t stopped. My world changed and I spend everyday trying to evaluate it. I’ve gotten better with riding with the flow but I see things differently now. I quit looking out and went inside instead because that’s where everything comes from.

I’m not here to sell books or change your outlook. It’s not my place. If it reaches you you’ll know the moment it happens. I wouldn’t take lottery money over this even though calling this a reward doesn’t fit the vibe. This is what real freedom is like. Once you see it you can’t unsee it.

That’s a whole ‘nother story that a lot of you aren’t quite ready for. This isn’t me exalting myself. It’s quite humbling honestly. It’s also quite lonely.

2026 is going to be wild. Maybe not for all but for me it will be my intuition spikes just writing about it. I’m much better at reading the signs now. This will most likely be my last journal entry until post Christmas and I’m ok with that. I’m in a good flow right now.

Cheers

5 years ago I announced my charcuterie box business on social media. We had bought a $300 Cabellas slicer, cheap printer, a dorm fridge and a stack of pizza boxes I had bought from restaurant depot. I had a friend create a menu that I may have tweaked about 3 times since. I called upon Boar’s Head to be my purveyor and had them deliver my product to the offices at Habitap once a week.

My launch was a mess

The boxes were a mess

I was a mess.

We offered pick ups at our home. Customers would do three point turns in our driveway in the mud. I’d have to hide the trash bags behind the house our one green can couldn’t hold all the fruit clamshells and cardboard. Our dog would bark every time someone came to get a box. Sometimes complete strangers would just walk into our home on the high volume days. I had up to 8 volunteers helping me out on Christmas Eve. My wife and I would deliver boxes from Piedmont to Greer and get back home at 10pm Christmas Eve. I’d buy $1000 worth of stock and whatever I couldn’t fit in our refrigerators I’d leave in the back of my truck if the temperature dropped below 40°. The entire time all I had in my head was “only one month of this shit and I’ll find a way to open another restaurant.” I was at the lowest of lows. My drinking peaked during this time. I think it was meant to. I always felt like I had it under control most of the time but it wasn’t the case anymore.

December was a hard one. The months that followed would be even harder.

February of 2021 rolled around and my friend Shawn from BFS asked for a collaboration of sorts and I could work out of his little kitchen at the brewery. I made a little bar menu for them and it tanked. I bought a hotdog trailer to go along with their brewery and I was losing about $100 a week with that venture but my box orders were doing ok. Having a legit spot to have box pickups available helped out quite a bit. I quickly outgrew the brewery’s kitchen but I had no where else to go. I’d stand in that little corner of the brewery trying to churn out 20 big daddies with one 8 pan cooler and a reach in. I had one 4 ft prep table. This isn’t a knock on the facility of the brewery I owe a lot to the Johnson’s and will be forever grateful. I was having a hard time dealing with my forced humility. Many tears were shed in that little kitchen. A few dozen fits pitched. I survived on Venmo and cash payments to pay the bills.

It was long hard day at that said brewery when I left the kitchen after a New Year’s Eve beat down as I walked out I said to myself “I’m getting drunk tonight for the last time” because something told me if I didn’t stop at that time I never would. I celebrated that moment a little too hard as per the norm.

But

I’ve kept my word. It’ll be 4 years next month.

The brewery closed and I moved 50 yards back to the meadery. My friends at the meadery were very transparent and let me know they would be most likely closing within the next year. I had about 9 months to figure out my plan. I probably looked at 50 different spots. Most of the time agents wouldn’t return my emails or calls. I bit the bullet and hired on a young agent to put up with my wishy washy ass for a few months. He was extremely patient and that’s what I was looking for. I needed a small spot that was centrally located in Greenville and found a little closed down package store on 219 w Antrim drive. It pinged when I walked in and very reluctantly I signed my lease. I would use my 90% of Venmo account to finance the deli.

I built most of that deli with my bare hands, alone because I needed to. I had one more thing to prove to myself and I did.

Everything in that deli is mine. Paid in cash, built from me or assisted by me. I needed it to be that way for a million reasons.

5 years

It’s difficult to describe what I’ve gone through these last 5 years. I stepped into a life changing portal and came out someone else. A cocooning as I refer to it. I was meant to do this. As I look back I realize that now. Before I wrote this I sat on my sofa and had a good cry. It’s been a minute and it felt good to look back on a tough time, let out a cry and then smile.

Humility

Struggle

Loss of confidence

=

Medicine for the soul.

It’s changed me man I can’t even begin to describe. For that I’m grateful.

For all of you that have supported me I’m grateful and for my wife who lever let me fall I’m grateful. There would be no year 5 without her. Everyone needs a Jess in their life.

Happy anniversary Chadcuterie

I spent the last year of my life revisiting a lot of my childhood trauma. What I mean by that is when I get ready for bed I will go into a meditative state and look back on not so fond memories of when I was much younger. Divorces, passing of my father, violence and other moments that I would eventually carry around as part of my personal identity as all of these attached themselves to my own being. The more I looked back on these moments the more I began to analyze how they affected me. I was my own therapist for most of this year. It’s a lot of work. I’d wake up the next morning, journal my thoughts and do my best to make peace with the old experiences. Some I’d change my perspective of the situation to change my past. This is where you can alter your past mentally. Neuroplasticity- molding your brain to change the reflections of your past. That’s all they are now. I do this to slowly push away my habits of living in the past.

Simple as it gets “what’s done is done”. Quit harping on that old harp.

Beating that old dead horse in your mind.

Once you see how the past is constantly projected in your actions and reactions the more in the present you can become.

Your loops

Your routines

I call this shadow work. I didn’t make up this term it’s on the internet if you need to look it up.

Your behavior is caused by your past. Your environment is molded by your past. Your generational struggles. It’s that dog chained to a stake that I always refer to.

When I reckon with these old memories I create zip files to store them in my brain. I treat my mind like a desktop computer. I have folders to store the good things and some bad things with different perspectives. I have a trash bin where other attachments go away permanently. In my head I’ll visualize the little pointer clicking on something I’ve been attached to for no good reason and make that little paper crunching sound and “Kobe!” it into the wastebasket.

It works

Your brain enjoys visual cues.

I did this recently for about a 16 year era of my life where I recognized business wise, that I was looping into poor decisions due to how I was trained to respond to financial situations.

I closed a file where I was bitter about my father’s level of clout when he passed. For years I thought I had to struggle with my own business like he did. It was a part of my life. It attached itself to me in that specific way. “You’re just like your father. He struggled to make it and so will you”

It took a long night of emotions to finalize that segment of my life. I didn’t throw it in the trash I compressed it into a folder. It needs recognition on my bad days. It’s one that can’t be thrown away you might as well ask me to sever my arm with some crafting scissors.

But

I recognize it, which allows me to deal with it on my terms. I control it not the other way around. Emotions are meant to be expressed and shared. It’s how you react and respond that determines your outcome.

It was also during a long meditative session that I realized that I’m my mother’s child. Emotionally I’m my mother. My nervous system is my mother’s. Once I recognized that pattern it’s been my hardest barnacle to shed. Rewiring that circuit pattern.

Side note: if you’re into that whole ancestral trauma the last three generations of Gangwer’s were engulfed in world wars. My father in WWII and his father and grandfather fought side by side in WWI. Combine that with my mother’s emotional issues and you’ve got one wound tight Chad.

My father getting shot down over Germany =my irrational fear of flying. I’ve yet to get on another plane now that I’m no longer a drunk. That next flight will be interesting. This is a barnacle that won’t let go anytime soon. It’s also one I don’t have to deal with on a daily basis so it sits in a folder inside of another folder. The “one of these days” folder inside the “stop procrastinating” folder.

I don’t quite have all of this under control yet. It’s still a new computer monitor.

I devote an hour a day for rewiring and cleaning up my mental desktop. The more organized it is the more clarity I can observe.

If you want to take this visual approach another step I’ll add in my application of open tabs or apps in my brain browser.

Open tabs are what I refer to as unfinished business. I have several different types of tabs I shuffle around with. Mind projects I keep around due to procrastination or emotions that I’ve failed to close over time. To maintain focus on my mental health I’ve carefully cut down on my mental projects. I’d procrastinate on several works projects- menu revamps, reorganizing, new floor plan or media projects. I’d take on a dozen at a time then go home with 20 more to opened tabs at home. I wouldn’t complete any. I’ll get overwhelmed and dissociate with it. Tension and anxiety would build up in my body so I started closing tabs or assigning them scheduled slots. I was in the middle of a menu revamp and I have some ideas for added levels of service at the deli. I wanted to push all of it out when my sign was hung. A sort of a ritual celebration.

I could feel the tension already arriving so I closed all those tabs and reassigned them to next year. Holiday boxes take precedence. Menu will be handled after Christmas and the next step won’t be approached until both of those are taken care of. Home projects are closed temporarily until after the new year.

Period. No questions asked

Open apps are interests or hobbies I try to juggle simultaneously while also procuring stillness and peace of mind. Trying to do too many things you enjoy drains your energy too. I told my wife last night my camping for the year is over with. I’m not assigning any sort of punishment to myself I’m giving my body a break from three hour drives, long hikes and abuse from inclement weather. The stress of forcing a little adventure in between 60 hour work weeks. My body and mind needs rest and stillness this time of year. It took me years to realize that being still is one of the healthiest activities you can do for yourself. Have you ever just sat in silence? No tv, no books, no music or talking. Try it for half an hour. It’s harder than you think. The payoff is amazing. Your brain will begin a process of problem solving when you’re at rest. Your body will follow suit. My camping is done for the year. I closed that app. My gear is boxed up to insure it stays that way. I opened up a new app I use to plan for my next year adventures to even it out. It allows me to work with a peace of mind that for all of my hard work the next 6 weeks will be worth the extra time I put in. I don’t stress to squeeze in a hobby during this period. My mind is at ease, I’m focused on the present while excited for new things on the horizon. I’m counting on this to keep my body well rested and my mind balanced.

I no longer look at this season with a sense of dread. *tosses holiday dread into trash bin

KOBE!

Nothing but net.

Work files on my monitor aren’t clicked on with dread. Simple purpose is to not overload.

Balance

Because that’s the key for me. When the stress begins to attach itself to my nervous system I’m more aware of it now. It allows me to pull back. I realized over time it’s not the amount of hours I spend at work it’s the cadence of my body and mind when I’m working. I try to take over the world the first 10 minutes I’m at work. I can make an 8 hour shift feel like 10 because I’m trying to squeeze 10 hours of labor into 8. When I get into this state I can feel my body tense and go into fight or flight mode. It will maintain this state for the whole shift. It doesn’t let go until well into my evening at home. I don’t have a morning schedule I go into work at odd times but always leave at 5. I find myself pushing that last bit of free time at home before I go to work because I’ve reprogrammed myself to thinking work owns me because for the last 30 plus years it has. When I rush to work indeed it does.

It owns me. It traps me in its system and keeps me there in fight or flight mode the entire shift. Now even on slower days I leave 30-45 minutes early to start my routine at an easier pace.

Reprogramming my cadence. If you’ve worked with me during a busy shift I’m sure I probably stressed you the fuck out. I go into overdrive and I don’t stop until my body doesn’t give me a choice. I’m a product of a high volume system that has warped my mind over the years. I used to call this hustle.

Listen

Fuck hustle

Now I slowly blend my downtime into my work time. I stop for a cup of coffee on the way to work. I do a slow walkthrough the deli and mentally start my day. I’ll put an album on my record player and deliberately move at a slower pace. My “pace work” begins as soon as I get out of bed.

Slow shower to wake up. I’ll sit down while I brush my teeth. Coffee is generally made the day before. I have a small folder in my head called “The coffee theory” where I used to start my day making coffee at 90mph. Everything used to be a deadline to me. I started making coffee the day before to make me slow down in the mornings. All I do now is hit the brew button and go about my morning. While the coffee brews I stretch slowly. This allows my body to feel like there’s no deadlines, agendas or hurry. I don’t look at my work schedule until I’m showered, stretched and I have a hot cup of coffee in my hand.

My vagus nerve thanks me for it.

My balance comes with a firm handshake between my work load and my nervous system. “We are going to work together in harmony today guys. We have all day to get along. No rush, no worries or hurries make yourselves at home”

My work schedule ends at five regardless. When I say five I mean at 4:59:59 pm I’ve got my key in the door. Obviously if I have customers walk in at 4:55 I’m still serving with a smile on my face. It’s rare but I don’t turn anyone away. I will be putting your purchase in a bag though. There’s no more staying an extra hour late while a two top lingers over stale coffee after closing. If a delivery is running late I’ll give you 15 minutes extra before I cancel the delivery. My time is more important to me than someone that’s running late. This used to be a big part of my stress. I turned away a truck the day before my busiest day of the year because it hadn’t arrived after I closed.

It’s my life now folks. It’s absolutely nothing personal. I made a commitment to myself to work on my own terms and not someone else’s.

I may have went on a tangent here I’m not sure. And my fingers are getting tired.

It’s Sunday my weekend has begun. I’m walking today but it’ll be a deliberately slow one. It’s 8am I’m usually going about my day today but I lied in bed for an extra hour and relaxed. I have a new book I’m starting today. There will be no work talk, no work posts. I’m currently listening to a David Crosby album I’ve never heard before.

I’m setting my cadence today. I’ve clicked on that folder I created for Sunday lazies. No camping, no long drives.

Peace. ☮️

Costco is a dispensary for NPCs. Watch the blank stares of the customers. You can activate them by engaging with them or bumping their carts

Publix, you’re guaranteed someone over 75 years of age walking out in the middle of the automatic doors .2 miles an hour with their shopping cart and two paper bags. They won’t make eye contact with you they are already searching blindly for their car that’s parked 6 feet from the building = NPC

Also same store, same person when entering will stop in the middle of the doorway to bath their cart 🛒 handle in sanitizer wipes. They will detail it like a 57 Chevy bel air.

^^NPC

If you walk into a grocery store to obtain one thing in the produce aisle say like a small bunch of cilantro, as soon as you head to that display you will automatically be blocked by two customers who will mingle in front of your produce reach zone and have a discussion about Brenda’s best casserole recipe. 2 NPCs

If they aren’t around to deter your daily produce routine then your local grocery store will employ someone to stand there and straighten the cucumbers to perfect alignment- NPC

Real quick – stop stocking cilantro and parsley right next to each other. I tire of scratch and sniff when no one is looking.

Stop stocking rock hard avocados. I don’t have my shit together well enough to buy an avocado on Tuesday in hopes that it’s finally going to be soft enough for guacamole Thursday at 5:56pm. No I’m not putting it in a paper bag reread what I just said about having my shit together. I don’t eat avocado toast I’m hoping to buy a house with my savings.

Blindly go down random grocery store lanes to fool the NPCs. If you go out of order they’ll have to reboot and shuffle. If you don’t then by the time you reach the canned meat aisle (what in the actual fuck can we find a better name for this?) you’ll have two grocery carts parallel parked in the center with two wide hipped single mothers and their posse of free range children coughing on both sides like a germ aerosol.

Back to Costco

When all the lines are backed up you’ll have Cynthia trying to cut through all the lines to get to self checkout with her patio palm tree and tub of organic gluten free chicken salad. She won’t ask she’ll slowly slide her cart in between you and the next customer with that awkward expression only Cynthia can maintain. You ever notice the same people who won’t merge until the last minute when a lane is closed on the highway are the same that will try to merge into register line traffic right at the register. Never mind the line is as far back as the raw pecans display. My buggy is within butt sniffing distance of the NPC in front of me. YE SHALL NOT MERGE

Worst congested areas in Costco

1. At the entrance when people walk in and decide to stare at the 176in flat screen tv display. “Oh Matlock is on the movie screen!”
2. The seasonal display where the NPCs will press a button to make the spooky skeleton DJ dance to thriller. In July
3. Vitamin aisle? I won’t walk in that area. You’ll be herded to maintain the average speed of a one legged zombie. You’ll have elderly NPCs pushing carts with one bottle of discounted geritol and four cases of Ensure. 95% chance they have an open wound on their forehead or a gauze pad around their forearm . Or OR they’re waiting to reset by the pharmacy with their 4 in thick skiing sunglasses and cane.
4. I don’t know who needs to hear this but the last fucking thing I want to do while I’m trying to leave with $400 worth of groceries and dry goods is to have a conversation about my HVAC system with the one guy wearing a blue button up shirt that seems to be the universal dress code for hvac salespeople. I almost typed out salesman omfg the rage that might’ve caused. I have never witnessed one person actually talking to that sales person, human, individual, carbon breathing unit.

I had an NPC try to sign their name on my deli clover device while it was pointed toward me.

The amount of energy I use to troll boomers when they try to use tap on my register is ridiculous. Listen, I get it. Technology confounds me. Why do you think I married a younger woman to help assist me with hard things like finding my tv shows on that god forsaken fire stick. Or how to send files on my phone. I can’t tell you what half the buttons in my truck actually do.

Speaking of my truck I’m overdue for an oil change but I’m procrastinating because I know my air filter is old. That means another point of transaction I don’t feel like dealing with. Ever go to the dealership for an oil change? You’ll get a barrage of texts while you wait giving up updates on other caregiving your car could really use.

“Hey I know you’re only here for an oil change but it’s time for a transmission fluid flush. Also your windshield wipers are only at about 46 percent wiping capabilities.”

“Your distributor cap hasn’t been dusted. It’s supposed to be detailed every 11,500 miles. We can knock that out for you for an additional $65”

“Your exhaust system needs to be chimney swept every 36,000 miles. We are having a sale right now. We can clean it out and give your exhaust pipe a good tim job for an additional $200”

I had a salesman come to me to let me know my brakes only had 33% pad left. 33%. I asked him if he only finished 67% of his food before he threw his plate away and looked at me strange and said “um no.” I said good because these brakes still have about 30% more braking to go before they break.

I thought it was funny.

My last visit I went in for a $90 oil change by the time I had tallied all the suggested mechanical updates the sum was $3500. My truck has 50k miles on it. I did get new wipers though

Also it’s a little uncomfortable when they beg you to give a 5 star review.

They

Beg

You

I know why I get it and I always do but let’s not make it awkward please.

I haven’t seen my neighbor outside for days. Fingers crossed I missed the funeral

I’m changing habits.

Ok

I’m attempting to change habits. It’s a game of chess with my own mind and it’s bullshit because my brain knows my next move. It’s cheating. It’s like it can read my mind..

I just came back from camping for 48 hours in a random farm site in or around John’s island.

200 plus acres, semi primitive although they had an “outhouse” which the first time I took a seat I had to do a 30 second recon of what may have the capacity of crawling up my rear, down my leg or sitting shotgun while I’m doing my human nature deposit . Not trying to make you uncomfortable here folks bowel movements are the social equalizer even the pope sits on that throne. I usually find a quiet area and dig my own discardation. Yep another new word.

Anyhoo

I camp to stretch my comfort zone. Especially my two nighters where I’ll try to find a new spot in a different area. I usually camp on Hunting Island, the same island Forrest Gump got shot in the butt while looking for Bubba.

True story if you google it. Quite a few scenes from Vietnam were shot on that island.

Tangent and irrelevant

I opted for John’s island I wanted to enjoy some good food, beach sunrise and trip over some cobblestones in downtown Charleston. Charleston is a collection of some important memories for me over the years. I asked my wife to move in with me down there, we also got engaged at The Coast a year later. I received the news of my stepfather’s fatal motorcycle accident down there too while I was participating in the Cooper Bridge run. It would be my last one. As I said it’s a harbor of intimate memories. A part of me remains there when I leave.

The farm I where I stayed had about a dozen dispersed campsites under a canopy of trees along side a marsh of tide changes. It was 70°-50° while I was there that’s the perfect temp zone for me I wouldn’t want to camp near that water in summer I imagine the mosquitoes aren’t very good hosts. The pasture was dotted with cow pattied land mines. The horizon looked like a green sheet pan of unbaked chocolate drop cookies.

I bet you didn’t know I was a poet at heart.

Cows hosted the fence line. They were respectful of the road and would mosey off the path once you stared at them for a solid minute. The farm had some crooning roosters and a small family of wild pigs running around. Saw them twice before sunrise. I have to be honest I’d rather deal with an angry black bear than wild pigs. If you see one pig there’s usually 3-4 more hanging around it. Pigs can’t climb onto my truck so I didn’t worry too much although I kept my head on a swivel most of the evening by my campfire. I had my last night of sleep interrupted by what I thought were pigs foraging around my site. It took a moment of surveillance to realize I had a few cows mucking in the mud behind my site. I don’t have good experiences with cows while I camp I had a herd almost push me off of a cliff wall during a thunderstorm in the Badlands.

*yawns in adventure

There were no moos to be heard this time only the suction of hooves in deep river mud. No rhythm, no cadence just random suctions to keep me awake. Took me out of my comfort zone just not the way I intended.

I got up early both mornings to drive to folly to watch the sun come up. Cold sandy feet while I grounded myself in the beach sand. I’m a firm believer your soul gets downloads during the sunrise. I’ll gaze at the horizon while it crests over the water. Solid 30 seconds. The sun’s radiance won’t melt your corneas at dawn. Sun gazing is where it’s at y’all. When you watch the skyline and your skin starts to tingle as the sun comes up you’re doing life the right way. My final permanent residence will have access to the sunrise from my back porch. Write that shit down.

This is the fodder to my trail markers.

I drove to folly before my trip back home for one more gaze and drove straight back to unload and return to work.

After work I was going through the motions of my evening routine. Hot ass shower because I hadn’t warshed myself since Sunday, soft cozy clothes, some simple routine take out food and my ass on my sofa spot to disassociate with the day. 8:30 I go do my bedtime routine although I was too exhausted for a meditation.

When I went horizontal to sleep my mind went through my last two days of camping. I do this often, I’m programming my brain to download my experiences into happy memories. Highlighting the best ones compressing them into zip files. On a rainy day I’ll conjure these memories back up for a solid smile.

It works. Highly recommend.

This was a little different my mind was relaying all the goods and paused for a minute.

“ Hey Chad, I hear you talking about your comfort zone all the time. You like to step out for growth when you go camping”

Yes that’s correct. Now stfu I’m trying to sleep.

“Sure thing but have you noticed that as soon as you come back you celebrate by going back to the same exact routine you left off with?”

*Me lying in bed pausing..

You motherf\

“So yeah Chad what exactly are we doing here? Are we alchemizing? Because tomorrow morning it’s gonna be the same thing all over again”

Touché el pussy cat.

Not sure if that was the residual from a download but it struck a nerve. It didn’t keep me awake I went to sleep but I did add a note in my phone right before to address this today.

So hey!

This is my little post reckoning journey for myself not a self help book for anyone else. What I’m doing may not work for others but I’m knee deep in my intuition vibes this year. If the trail lights up I take that detour without any hesitation.

It works

This doesn’t mean when I get up in the AMs I go build a fire outside to make coffee although that sounds amazing right now. There’s no beach to scratch my feet in the sand, my tent is pretty much closed down for the year.

I have to pull my comfort zone thumb out of my mouth. It goes right back in there as soon as I return home. In fact I embrace it. Nothing wrong with a little comfort and familiarity but I need to recognize how easily my thought patterns go back to auto reset. It’s like going to the gym once a month. I don’t want my brain to atrophy from repeating and staying the same thing ol Chad. I’ve lived in the same constant cadence of Chadhood for decades. I’ll briefly step out of him and then rush right back. It’s that goddamn dog on a chain.

I’m not beating myself up in fact it’s the opposite. I recognize the pattern. It’s up to me what to do next.

Growth

Download complete.

I have a coffee date with one of my favorite human beings today. It’s one ritual I won’t break.

Peace ☮️

I don’t normally write in the evening time. My attention span is spent, energy is exerted and I can smell my bedtime calling me. I start dissociating with my life around 6:30. It’s 7:05 now and my complacent zone has its eyebrow raised.

Subconscious- “I see what you’re trying to do here Chad”

Sure this could be seen as a loop break but my intuition is telling me “not this time”

“Answer your inner phone calls”

Ok so here we are. I’m relaxed as I usually am at this point, I’m in my sweats, on my sofa slowly fading to my nightly routine. Bedtime rears its sleepy head in 90 minutes.

Graze is my last rung before I close shop in the service industry. Whatever that means I’m not sure but my intuition is trying to light me up like a Christmas tree.

“Hey Chad, you’ve said on multiple occasions that this deli “just ain’t it”

“We’ve been trying to reach out to you to let you know that’s ok.”

“It’s hard to leave that comfort zone”

“It’s all you know or at least all you’re willing to accept as your best option”

“You’re scared to do something else and as you should be. It’s been 30 plus years”

“Hey my friend. Just let things go. We (you and you) got this”

This week has been a hard one for me mentally. Nothing out of the ordinary which is why I get bothered because to me it’s I’m becoming the same old same old again.

Not acceptable

My snakes are hissing in my head as they do from time to time and it has me in my feels. Anger, fear, depression, impulsive thoughts. I literally want to punch the air sometimes.

But

I’m reckoning with it. I acknowledge it. I know it’s there.

Lurking

It’s fine. I’m not on a ledge although I had a little emotional outburst solo at work two days ago that made me think I was.

I got over it. The thing is I’m tired of getting over it

Listen, I’m fine really. I’m fighting with my deli mentally right now. Something isn’t magneting. Yeah I know another non existent word but I like making up my own vocabulary. I wake up in the early am and I’m feeling my vibe. I meditate, I stretch, walk, workout all with a good intentions smile. I drive to work, stop to get one more coffee for the day and pull up to Graze.

And then my energy shifts.

It’s hard to explain. It’s not everyday but the residue is still there on the good days.

I love how my deli looks

I really enjoy my time chatting with my one employee

I love all the creations coming out of it and we put a lot of love and pride into it

There’s just something not clicking.

My intuition is telling me I’m fighting against the inevitable. I needed one more thing to prove to myself. That I still could.

And

I have but I feel like I’m forcing a social experiment on myself and it’s starting to come to a close.

It’s hard for me to stand at that counter and smile. It’s just that transparent.

It’s like I’m working for someone else which is a paradox because I do this so I don’t have to work for someone else.

It’s not me I’m working for it’s my obligation. My comfort zone and this pisses me off because I’ve put quite the effort into this deli but let’s look at the facts:

I’m almost a year and a half into this and I’m still shuffling around.

I’m gonna try this next

And then this

This may work out too let’s give it a try

I just had my sign installed last week. I’ve been open since July 2024. The amount of shit that’s happened since then reads like a script after opening up a mummy’s sacred tomb. I’ve written about it multiple times. I’m not conjuring up these memories again. Not now. They’ve left a big enough stain.

The deli is pushing me away. Doesn’t mean it’s the end of the world. Unless I’m mistaken in my interpretation I’m fighting a wall. I’m pushing against fate

That’s fine and all

But

I could use a little direction.

This

Is

All

I

Know

In a defeated sense it’s like going to prison at 18 and doing 35 years and they let you out with no direction, no PO

I’m not in that thought process I’m being dramatic

Can you see me selling real estate? Bartending? Mechanic? I don’t even change my own oil.

I’m not feeling down yall. You’re getting front row seats to my trail markers while they download.

Downloads in the pm

Understanding in the am

Sometimes.

This was a weird one “hey Chad let’s write”

So I have. And I think I’m done for now because the download has stopped. I’m not picking up anything else but distortion.

Hell of a time for my soul WiFi to go off.

I’m zoning out for the next two days because I can. It’s one of the promises I made to myself when I opened this.. thing. I get to check out for 48 hours.

Hopefully I’m on the right path.

Cheers

You’re most likely looping right now if you’re reading this. You’re on Facebook, scrolling, reading comments, posts, opinions, reeling the reels. It’s what you do at this time of day. Before this, you probably got up, brushed your teeth, dried your mouth with the towel that always sits on the same side of the sink—or maybe you turned around and used the big towel you dried your ass with yesterday. You put your toothbrush back in the cup or the perforated stand that makes it look like a little trophy. You don’t even notice it anymore, though you once thought it looked cute sitting on a Target shelf eight months ago.

You poured yourself the same coffee you’ve been buying at Publix for years into cups that sit in the same cabinet above the same toaster that toasts the same flavored bagel you’ve loved for decades. The toaster hides the everything-bagel birdseed you can never fully clean. You’re wearing one of two lounge pants you rotate between morning and night. Sure, you own more, but only the top two ever see daylight. The others hang around just in case it’s laundry day and your favorites are in the hamper. They’re not as comfy or broken-in. Hell, your favorite pair probably has a hole in the rear. You don’t care. They’re yours.

You sit in your go-to spot on the couch or chair. Maybe the TV hums in the background. Maybe you’re half-watching videos on your phone. You sip your coffee, maybe drink a glass of water to balance the caffeine, pop a vitamin, stretch a little, think about your breakfast. Most of us rotate between the same three morning meals. If you work nine to five, your mental clock’s already ticking. Emails wait. Texts you ignored yesterday wait. You think about your gas gauge—maybe you even know the day you’ll fill up. Thursday, probably.

If it’s Thursday, you can wear that outfit again because it’s been over a week since the last time. Cooler air helps hide the repeat under a light jacket. You grab a coffee on your commute, same shop, same card, same smile at the barista who already knows your order—but you still repeat it, because three months ago someone messed it up and you haven’t let it go. Maybe you treat yourself to a pastry if you’re feeling wild. You’ve been trying to lose the same ten pounds for years, doing the same workout routine that stopped working long ago.

You park in your usual spot at work. If someone beats you to it, you’re irritated. No tree shade today. You walk in, maybe light a smoke, flick the butt in the same tray—or in the grass if you’re an asshat—and greet the same people with the same three lines: “What’s up, Stew?” “How’s it hangin’, Art?” Then you sit down at your desk, prep table, counter, or driver’s seat. Doesn’t matter what it is. It’s your loop.

We all loop. If you’re reading this, it’s because you came across it during one of your many loops. Me journaling this right now is also a loop, but I started writing to change mine—to alter the old patterns that were turning into lassoes. I call it tetherment. It’s not a real word, but it’s mine. I made it up because I needed one. I was tired of being caught by my own loops.

Words are loops too—the ones we think and the ones we say. They lasso us. Sometimes they choke us. I’ll probably loop back to that thought later. Or forget to. Brevity sneaks in when I write; it’s another loop of mine.

We sit or stand at our stations—desk, counter, grill, steering wheel—and start the next loop. Our thoughts tighten into task mode. Some people like their work; benefits are benefitting, paychecks are steady, 401k looks sexy. That’s not most of us. I’m somewhere in between. I own my business. I have good months where things feel steady and others where I’m watching the thermostat with a penny crunched between my cheeks.

We drone through our tasks, eat lunch at the same time, at the same three spots within five minutes of work—because any further gives you anxiety about being late. Once, six weeks ago, you were late to a Zoom and got chewed out. Now your brain replays that moment every time you try to relax. Sticky, shitty loops.

Some eat while they work. Some take the same cigarette break, sip the same Red Bull, munch the same candy bar. All loops. And as the day winds down, your mind builds the next set: commute, dinner, sports, show, sleep. Something different—a date, a plan—feels like a threat to the system. Disruption makes your nervous system twitch. It wants bubble wrap: safe, predictable, cozy. So you stay on autopilot. For years.

Ruts. Grooves. Humdrums. You’ve carved a trail into your brain, a hiking path from the same mental foot traffic day after day. You start at the trailhead when you wake and end where you began before bed. A loop. You know the whole path—where you’ll trip, where you’ll slip, where you’ll fall—but you trust it because it’s familiar. You’ve seen detours and said, “Nah, it’s getting dark soon. I’ll try tomorrow.” But you don’t. We don’t.

If your loops feed negativity, then negativity becomes your baseline. Wake up hating your job, and your brain will serve up reasons to keep hating it. Your brain is your yes-man. “Today sucks.” “You bet it does.” “I hate my job.” “Hell yeah, you do.” “No one likes me.” “You’re right, pal.” It’s doing its job—turning your thoughts into your reality. Casting your own spells.

“I’m stupid.” “Bet.” “Life sucks.” “Got you.” “I’m tired.” “Perfect, I’ll keep that mood steady all day.” We do this. We cast these little rituals with our thoughts, stir our own cauldrons. A dash of hopelessness, a pinch of negativity, a cup of “my life is shit.” Poof—another miserable day, conjured by none other than you.

Then we wonder: “Why can’t I catch a break?” “Why am I always struggling?” “Why did Brian get the promotion?” You’ve been walking the same trail for twenty years and still expect the scenery to change. It won’t—until you grab the wheel.

Your brain is an algorithm. I call it a brainrithm. Like social media, it feeds you more of what you click. You think about Taylor Swift, you get Taylor, Travis, Nashville, and the Chiefs. You think about being broke, you’ll start noticing bills and busted tires. I’ve become obsessed with algorithms lately—digital and human. They mirror each other. When I’m hungry, I only see food signs. When my gas light comes on, I only see stations. The key is to realize when your brain has switched itself to autopilot. That’s when you can take the wheel back.

You’re just looping.

Looping keeps you safe—or confined. Like a dog tied to a stake all its life. Cut the chain, and it still walks circles in the dirt because that’s all it knows. I travel to dissolve my patterns, to keep from clamping back to that stake. Because I was that dog—for years.

About four years ago, the trail markers started showing up. Subtle signals guiding me toward new paths. I was in my reckoning—breaking addictions but still tangled in emotional and behavioral loops. Sobriety cleared the fog, but it didn’t rewrite the wiring. It just gave me the clarity to see the mess.

Drinking carved deep grooves into my brain, and when I stopped, those grooves didn’t vanish—they just waited for me to fall back in. My routines, even sober ones, were still traps. They kept me from growing. The stake is your brain. The chain is your nervous system. The dog is you. The circle you’ve worn into the ground is your reality.

You can switch jobs, change scenery, even chase goals, but if your thoughts and habits stay the same, your life won’t. You’ll just have a new backdrop for the same movie.

One of my favorite quotes came from a spiritual guide I follow: “Stop doing stupid shit in your life that makes it suck.” I laughed when I heard it, but man, it hit. Sometimes it’s really that simple. For someone who drank away thirty years, I can confirm—it’s that simple. On paper, anyway. In practice, it’s a grind. Rewiring my brain has become my full-time devotion.

It starts with how you talk to yourself. “God, I’m an idiot.” “I’ll never get out of this hole.” “I’m broke.” “I’m fat.” “I hate myself.” We all do it. Your brain listens and keeps you aligned with those statements. It’s not turning on you—it’s following orders. You have to break that chain. It’s hard. Only because you tell yourself it is. That’s another loop feeding itself. Grab a machete and carve a new path.

Start small. Watch your language. The way you describe yourself. Even sarcasm counts. Your brain doesn’t know it’s a joke. It hears it and builds around it. Remember Stuart Smalley on SNL? The daily affirmations bit was funny—but true. Self-talk works, if you believe it. Be delusional in your favor.

I change routines often to keep my mind from numbing out. For every ten things I try, maybe three stick—but that’s enough. It’s like going to the gym for your neurons. Try brushing your teeth with your other hand. It’s awkward, but it’s rewiring. I did that for a month. It felt like trying to start a cold car every morning, but it worked. I changed my mornings too. Used to roll straight from bed to coffee and phone. Now, I go straight to the mirror and talk to myself. Half asleep, hair wrecked, eyes puffy, but I talk. Positive things. It started when I quit drinking. Every morning I said, “I’m not drinking today.” I did that for a month. That one simple loop change probably saved my life. I’m on day 1,409 of zero hangovers. The shit works.

You just have to believe it. Because if you don’t, your brain will see through your bullshit.

When I shower, I switch the water from hot to cold in intervals—been awake less than a minute, but I’m talking to myself the whole time. “Today is amazing.” Not will be. Is. When I was staying sober, I didn’t say, “I don’t want to drink.” I said, “I’m not drinking.” Subtle difference, big impact. “Yo brain, I’m driving today.” Brain: “Yeah, sure, man.”

The emotional rewiring didn’t start until this year. Opening my deli brought back all my old loops. Chadcuterie was on autopilot. It made enough to pay bills, support my family, my hobbies. But every time I saw a new charcuterie business pop up or had a slow week, it got in my head. I’ve opened restaurants before; I knew the grind, but this one was different. Sobriety didn’t erase the anxiety—it exposed it.

Vodka didn’t help me cope with emotions. It just locked them in a closet. And when I took the bottle away, the door burst open. I’d lie awake for hours, anxious, hearing the same thoughts on repeat. “I’m right back where I started.” “My work owns me again.” “I’m trapped.” “I’m going to fail.” Every slow day fed those fears.

The first day I opened Graze, I made $200. Later I realized I’d left out a major bill. I locked the door and cried. I was furious with myself. I thought sobriety was supposed to fix everything. It didn’t—it just gave me a fighting chance to start fixing myself.

Now I’m not trying to stop feeling. I’m learning to stop reacting from feeling. Emotions aren’t bad—they’re part of being human. It’s how you respond that defines you. I’ve always been quick to bark. I’m better now, but I still have moments that derail me. The work is in catching it. Redirecting the energy.

Because that’s all it is—energy. The mind directs the flow. If it points at anger, that’s what expands. If it points at gratitude, that’s what multiplies. Where your attention goes, your energy grows. It takes awareness, practice, stillness. And that’s hard in a world of distraction—especially when you carry one in your hand all day.

That’s why I write before I plug in. If I stay in the writing long enough, I forget to connect. My mornings are quieter, cleaner. I started today the same way: looked in the mirror and said, “Today is amazing.” I put on Gregorian chants. Sometimes jazz. Always something different.

When I walk, I find a new path. I take a different route to work. Not every day, but often. Sometimes I stop somewhere random just to rewire my head. I’ll drink coffee with my other hand. Switch up workouts. Read The Nag Hammadi and Jack Reacher side by side. I even build my boxes backwards sometimes—literally mess up my own assembly line—so my brain doesn’t run the show.

I’m working on the wardrobe next, but my skin’s picky. Same fabrics, same comfort zones—it’s a process. Music, though, that’s been the biggest reset. I’ve listened to the same 2,000 songs for years. They’ve become noise. Sometimes I drive in silence now. At work, I put on classical or jazz. It’s all rewiring.

Neuroplasticity—the science of changing your mind. Your brain’s clay. Stop making the same ashtray from high school art class. Sculpt something new.

Writing was my first real rewiring. Putting thoughts into words, wrestling with them—it’s changed me. Something deep inside nudged me to start. When you step off the old trail long enough, you meet that voice—the one that’s been waiting for you. That’s when the trail markers show up. That’s when “I AM” starts to make sense.

Algorithms equal brainrithms. Brainrithms equal your mind’s energy control device. Walk away from your echo chambers—social, mental, habitual. Stop. Listen. Where’s your energy going right now? Fear? Anxiety? Chaos?

You’re a supreme being in a meat suit. Act accordingly. Nothing can affect you if you don’t allow it. This is your world. Make it what you want.

“Why do you stay in prison when the door is so wide open?”

I never sleep well when I camp. It’s the one big downside for me when I go camping. I may average 4-5 hours sleep tops. One night isn’t bad but the sequence of 6 or 7 days straight will wear you down. I’m a comfort zone person I like my bed at home it’s been tweaked over the years to create a sleep haven for me. Haven’t perfected it for camping I suppose. Three inch foam mattress doesn’t help. Pillows are average I like a memory foam pillow but they don’t relate well to cold weather. They become rocks. I keep an oscillating fan noise on my phone but it’s not the same as my fan at home. I also keep it on low because you sorta need to hear what’s going on outside your tent should there be something going on outside your tent. I heard some crispy leaves being crunched around 10pm but it didn’t concern me enough to pop my head out of my tent. Deer are everywhere up there and an occasional bear. Raccoons aren’t the quietest things at night either. I don’t fear animals when I camp. Weather can keep me on my toes at times. Never know when a tall tree has had enough of the wind. Speaking of wind I moved my spot camping to lower ground. The wind was turning my truck into a rocking chair. I picked that spot to watch the sunrise it would’ve been epic but the wind was blowing into my face. Too much for a good campfire and I don’t sleep well when the wind is whistling and it was singing a tune. Also the site is very exposed. Not much privacy it feels like you’re camping on a rocky helicopter pad and the good folk driving around the mountain like to stop there and take pics regardless of who’s trying to camp there. I don’t say much it’s not my mountain but a little camping etiquette goes a long way. I no longer have my trailer so relocating doesn’t take as much effort and time. MRE’s for dinner. Doesn’t matter what “flavor” I buy they all have the same aftertaste. I don’t eat dehydrated food for the delicacy.

My new camping set up will hopefully fix a few of these sleeping issues. Also my back and body take about two days to crack back into place. After 30 years of cement floors and multiple pivoting actions on kitchen floors my body feels like I’m playing perpetual tackle football everyday. Always wear good shoes y’all.

My daughter invited a “friend” over to our house for the first time yesterday. It was only for an hour and they hung out on our side porch. I know I come across as an aggressively protective father but I won’t be that jackass that tries to alpha male a teenager kid. I trust my daughter’s judgment. She seems happy so I’m happy. He’s someone’s kid too and I’ll treat him as such. My goal and hope in life is to never have to involve myself in my daughter’s future relationships as life goes on. There’s no flex in being an overprotective father to my daughter when it comes to this.

I’m fine. First bruise from anyone and the entire world burns to the ground.

I like to see my daughter smile. That’s all.

Halloween was a good one for the deli. I haven’t done much writing about the deli because I think enough about it as it is. I think we sold around 25 skeletons or so. Not too shabby.

Got a coffee date with my kid this morning so I know my day starts off right.

That’s all I got today folks. Happy Tuesday.. I think it’s Tuesday.

Greenville’s food scene punches above its weight. I don’t mean that in a negative way towards any of the local restaurants around here. Greenville has plenty of great options to eat around here. And that’s the problem. If I can speak out about anything with a firm stance it’s the local hospitality industry.

There are approximately 1660 plus eateries and bars in Greenville county. 200 plus just downtown. Population 570,000 with a few more here and there. 343 people per establishment. Most demographics try to hover 450-500 per restaurant. Probably a less fickle fan base also.

Out of the restaurants, bake shops, bars, coffee shops, delis let’s say on average we need 10 people to fully staff. This obviously is a very rough estimate my old restaurants were ideal with 30 people each although we ran about 10% understaffed at all times. My deli employs two full time with two part time employees. 10 is a solid number but I’ll bet it’s closer to 15. If you were to staff all of the restaurants open in Greenville it would take almost 3% of our county population to fill the roles. 1 out of 34 people would have to work in the service industry.

Working population is about 60% so it would actually be 1 out of 20 people with a service industry job. Most of those employees are just shuffling from one place to the next because they can.

1 out of 20.

1665 places to eat in this county.

There are some very fortunate places that have hit the right spot at the right time. I’ve seen some amazing places here crash and burn and I’ve watched some with frozen bags of shit on plates but they are in that vortex of supporters where they’ll never suffer except for staffing on occasion. They usually have the same waitstaff since the Carter administration. I’m not knocking them good for you I find myself putting more effort in my craft out of survival not for fun. Maybe I need to buy some microwaves.

Slow death concepts right now? White people tacos are fading fast along with breweries. Insurance is a concept killer for small dive bars and regular bars. Rent in downtown is around $40 per square foot? I could be wrong I haven’t researched lately but I’d be surprised if it was lower.

Beef is getting real interesting again. It’s been a minute since we’ve had to kill a couple of million chickens so stay tuned.

When people ask me to consult I often warn them that I’m a tad jaded but I’ll also toss these numbers at them and encourage them to find another business to throw their money away. I wish I had the luxury of opening another place in an entirely different city and market. I’ve mentioned to my wife how the charcuterie boxes would thrive in a high volume tourist area. 30A in the summer with a little spot next to all the shops? It would thrive. Then I think about overhead and staffing. No thanks.

I didn’t build Grazeland around me I built it around Greenville’s over saturated market. This is about all I know. To survive I created a function around a function. Charcuterie is a decent enough business. I know if I have slow weeks that eventually the holidays come around and I make my grab and dash. Wedding season helps and Halloween looks to be a good time for me. I added sandwiches because I already have meat and cheese I just needed a bakery to bring me bread. Charcuterie is 75% of my sales. If I depended on the deli side I’d be out of business already. Everyday I’ll have a handful of customers come in for the first time and remark “this is the best sandwich I’ve ever had” and then never see them again. Greenville is tough. I used to do a small local market in my deli but no one bought anything. Grab and go specials? I’d throw most of them away. I quit making pudding because I’d throw it away after a week. Then I’d see someone remark about a fast food chain’s pudding being out of this world and it literally is poured out of a 10# can. I’ve already mentioned I’m jaded.

I got lucky by grabbing a chunk of the charcuterie business at the right time. I branded it well and am fortunate to be one of the first people you go to for charcuterie. I worked diligently to get there it wasn’t handed to me. Every few months or so I’ll see some asshat around here trying to replicate what I do. I’m not referring to the charcuterie part I didn’t invent fucking charcuterie hell I couldn’t even pronounce it 6 years ago. It’s the deliberate use of pizza boxes and my style is when I shake my head and then give you the finger through my phone. Use a little effort to create your own shit. Someone got upset with me several years ago for calling them out for using a Chinese togo box with little fried morsels in it and a dipping sauce that looked just like one of my most popular dishes at Southern. Some people can only replicate.

Greenville rarely has any new ideas it’s mostly a regurgitation of ideas from other places restauranteurs enjoy or a carbon copy of a concept they want to replicate. Believe me on this one I was just exposed to it for years. I cut my teeth with one.

Greenville tourism is decent enough for downtown restaurants to thrive. Swamp rabbit helps Travelers Rest but the busiest eatery out there is the chick fil a. The residents hate the ever growing population up there. A simple glance into the resident page will tell you that. If you aren’t in these locations the tourists will never hear about you if you aren’t exhalted on yelp. Yelp actually helps my exposure to out of towners. It’s definitely not the city whose main social media page won’t even acknowledge my presence without a $500 boost.

My jading is showing.

I’m not better than anyone else I’ll read that a restaurant I enjoyed dining at closed recently and then realize I hadn’t eaten there in the last year. Two miles from my home.

Why? As an honest consumer it would be

1. Price point was just a tad more than I’d want to spend for a regular night out. $75 for two people isn’t a regular dinner for me.
2. The fare was a little too specialized for me. Yes I like that style of food but it’s not on my weekly digestion rotation.
3. In that two mile radius I have literally 200 other places to chose from. I live in the city.
4. Like most of Greenville I’m a creature of habit. If you are able to sink your consumerism into my routines you’re gold. I’m just like everyone else I’m looking for a 5 tool concept of pricing, above average fare, consistency, atmosphere and friendly service. Preferably local. Those aren’t high standards.

I just eliminated 75% of the places in Greenville. Even some of my favorite go to’s have changed owners and aren’t the same anymore.

The general public doesn’t understand the food cost chain. If your hamburger meat went up from $2.50 a pound to $6 a pound at the grocery store that means the food purveyors prices went up too. A simple example of food costs is you mark up your pricing 300% across the board for your menu. If you’re serving an 8oz burger patty that used to be $2.50 a lb (that was the price of ground beef before Covid) then your patted protein would be $1.25. Marked up 300% and that’s loose because 33.3% food cost is a tad high then your burger price starts at $3.75 add bun, cheese, lettuce, tomato, onion and a dollop of mayo and it may (last time I costed it out buns were $.34 each, cheese $.26 lto .$16 cents a squirt of mayo $.05) that would put you right at $6.80 for just a regular old burger in 2019. 33% is not the best food cost so if you pushed it down to 30% it would be around $7.20. Give or take here folks I’m not using a calculator I used to do food cost in my head for fun.

2025

Last time I checked ground chuck was around $5 lb. That’s the 81/19 regular ground with a toenail or two included. So now it’s 2.50 per patty buns are around $.40, cheese probably $.30 lto hasn’t blown apart although iceberg lettuce is high right now. So that same cheeseburger went up to around $11.35 with a 30% food cost in mind. $11.35 sounds reasonable but let’s not forget to add some fries to that. Bacon? $4 a lb average if you’re using 18-22 per that means you get 18-22 pieces of bacon per pound. Thats some skinny ass bacon around 25% of that will break, crumble or get too burnt on the corners because your convection oven is surly. We will round it out to 16 perfect slices of bacon per pound. You know you’re gonna eat a slice or two while you’re working. $.25 per slice of bacon. Two slices per burger =$.50 so mark up is $1.50 ish. Now your burger is around $13. Still haven’t added the fries. Last time I costed potatoes out fries were around $.40 per ideal portion. Ideal. If you own a restaurant that serves fries go through your trash on the line and see how many fries are hanging out. I used to keep a 5 gallon bucket on the line for “fry trash” to see how much we threw out. We’d fill it up on a Friday night. So fries $1.50 additional menu upcharge. Fry oil was also around $20 a box then. The shittiest brand is about $30-$36 now. Don’t quote me on that though. Anyway your burger is now $14.50- $15.00. $15.12 if you like pickles.

The consumer doesn’t calculate for market increases in the service industry like they do the grocery stores. They expect restaurants to eat more of that 4% bottom line. All they see is their favorite burger place go up 30% over the next year and either eat at home or opt for the Soylent Green burgers the fast food chains serve. I used to work for a steakhouse when steak prices were considered high at $9 a lb I can’t imagine what it must be like now. You gotta have some balls to open a steakhouse right now. Or anything for that matter. When I opened LTO we were labeled too expensive for a double pattied burger with brisket, sirloin and short rib grind for $10.95

With side included and bacon. You see Greenville likes the finer things in the foodie world but they don’t want to pay for it out of their pocket. I’ll watch customers at the deli raw dog a footlong sandwich with no beverage because I don’t offer free tap water. I charge $1.50 for beverages and bottled water.

I’ve said it for years. Greenville wears the crown of a foodie town. It’s just made of brass.

The food is here. The support is not. Greenville is a value seeking town and that will never change. Sure there are some fantastic foodies here I’m surrounded by them.

Greenville is unique with its ever growing service industry without the population to man it and support it.

But

We keep opening up new ones every week.

The bubble burst long ago. Put your half million/million dollar investment into something else. Or at least another city. I’m not jaded when I say that it’s simple economics here.

I’m glad I don’t depend on consulting for my income..

If you’re kicking ass out here kudos to you old boy but don’t take it for granted. It can fade fast. From what I’ve heard..

I’m about to hit the middle of my lease soon. Always got the things on my mind. Might have my sign up by the end of it. I could give you some fun stories of dealing with the city along with trying to run a business too but then we are really talking jaded.

I think I used the word jaded about a dozen times here.

Jaded

Anyway hit me up if you ever need restaurant consultation. Cheers