Chapter 21 #2
I gave her a polite nod and waved to Jason and to Michael Clarke, who had somehow managed to find his way here from his house.
Then there was Hodges, of course, holding a clipboard; Sarnia, who owned the bookshop in town; and Lily, the postmaster. Lastly, with a sick jolt of surprise, I saw Oz Wylie sitting next to his father, who was already snoring into his own chest.
I didn’t know Oz had joined the Entrepreneurs Association.
Forcing myself to stay chill and cool, I gave Oz a wave.
This was bad, yes, but not a disaster. I didn’t need a universal vote, only a majority. Oz could hate on me as much as he wanted—I would simply focus on the rest of the cohort.
My pitch slot was scheduled for thirty minutes.
Hodges gave a spiel about the integrity of the fund and its long history strengthening Woodville’s economy, giving the town character, and creating jobs for locals.
I knew this criteria so well I could have recited it along with him.
If I was being self-critical (which, let’s be real, I wasn’t usually), the jobs part was the only potential weakness of my pitch.
Mike’s Place would run as a one-man operation because that’s what I intended to be for the rest of my life—notwithstanding the occasional fuck and duck with party princesses.
But only once my business was up and running and the heat was off me a bit.
But, as Hodges was talking, I was only thinking of one specific princess who had large blue eyes and went all boneless after she came.
I had to physically shake myself. Mon gave me a weird look.
Then it was time.
Hodges gestured me up to the podium and I plugged in my laptop.
Tessa had made me rehearse what cables went where and shown me a few things to try if something wasn’t working.
When I had to employ two of them, (because Hodges’s tech was as old as he was), I thanked the ceiling that Tessa was such a Type A.
Over our heads, my slides sprang to life, the words Mike’s Place arching over a picture of Mini M in his party hat.
“Kia ora koutou. Hi to you all. My name is Mike Holliday.” I took a deep breath.
“But you already know that. You know everything about me and my childhood, same as I know yours. It’s all stored in this steel trap.
” I rapped my finger on my temple. “Sarnia, remember when you were ten and the judge at lamb and calf day at school said that your sheep had the most beautiful wool she’d ever seen on a ewe? ”
Sarnia placed a hand over her heart. “I still have the trophy.”
“Hodges, remember when Nettie was six, and she came at you with a fist full of cow shit and told you she wanted to play beauty spa?”
Hodges made a face. “Yeah, she wanted to do face masks.”
“Michael, remember when you nearly died because you couldn’t read a compass? And Jase, remember when Patches chased off that stray that tried to attack you? Martin and Monica, what about that time your cat jumped in the mail truck, then walked for a week to come back home to you?”
Martin’s eyes went glassy. “Tiger.”
“For those of us lucky enough to grow up here in Woodville, being around farm animals and spending time outdoors was a way of life. Studies show”—I changed my slide to some data so they’d know I wasn’t talking out my ass—“when kids interact with animals, they get more compassionate and develop in lots of other ways too. Not every household can have pets, maybe for time or financial reasons, maybe allergies, maybe it’s none of my business.
And even in homes with pets, few households have the space or facilities for animals like miniature ponies, chickens, sheep, or curly cows. ”
Sarnia frowned. “What are?—?”
I grinned and clicked to the next slide. Her question turned to a coo as she took in the Highland cow with a luscious curly coat.
“Woodville is right on the highway. Hundreds of people drive through here on their way to the big city. Back in the old days, when Hodges was a young man”—I winked to ease the joke and Hodges rolled his eyes, but there was a grin curling his mouth—“people only stopped in Woodville if they needed to take a piss. Thanks to investments this group has made, these days people stop here, they have lunch, they maybe buy an antique or some books. Right, Sarnia?”
Our diminutive bookseller nodded. “Smut with dragons and mobsters are my bestsellers right now.”
I had follow-up questions— together? What did a dragon mafia do?
—but I could ask her later. “I want people to stay here longer. I want their kids to get a taste of what it’s like to grow up here.
At Mike’s Place, they’ll experience what it’s like to connect with animals, but they’ll learn, too.
It won’t just be rides and petting, like I do at parties or fairs.
Kids will learn what it takes to look after animals and get a better understanding of their environment.
There will be a conservation element as well, because we need to think about how farmers can help with environmental challenges, in particular water quality and predator control. ”
My next slide read Mike’s Mission and had a breakdown of my goals and core tactics, plus what we would do better than anyone else. “This is the UTI,” I announced importantly, pointing like Tessa had told me to.
Sarnia snickered. “I think you mean UVP.”
“Huh?”
She spelled it out. “Unique Value Proposition.”
“Whoops, yeah. U VP .”
Jason snickered.
“Carry on, Mike,” Oz piped up, surprising the shit out of me. “We know what you mean.”
I was so stunned it took me a second to remember what came next. Recovering, I talked through the start-up costs, projections, and some of the marketing stuff that Tessa had helped me with.
Finally, I stuffed the hand holding the slide clicker in my pocket, trying to look chill and catch my breath without being obvious. It felt like I’d just run a mile with my mouth.
“Any questions?”
Four hands shot up.
Sarnia asked about competitors, so I told her about the similar businesses I’d seen and the farm-based kindergarten in Auckland and petting zoo in Tawa, both of which were successful.
It wasn’t an original idea, but we were in the right place for it to be a hit.
When Oz raised his hand, I braced myself, but he just wanted to ask about the pricing model.
He nodded at my answer, seemingly satisfied.
Hodges started haggling with me over the sum investment I was asking them for and I yielded another 4 percent, which made both of us happy because I was prepared to yield double that.
The question that threw me came from Monica.
“I have to say it, Mike. Don’t you think a man running a petting zoo is weird?”
“No? Why?”
“You know.” Mon also looked around the room, seeming to scout for backup. “There are kids.”
“Yeah, there are kids, Mon. That’s the point. But it’s not a drop-off babysitting service. For one, I’d hate that. Two, my ducks aren’t flame retardant.”
“What?”
I dropped that and carried on. “I’ll have all the usual background checks and police vetting done, and all under-thirteens will have to have a parent, guardian, or otherwise responsible adult with them.
Mike’s Place is marketed to families, but if your teen wants to learn how to file a miniature horse’s hooves or drench a sheep, I can show them. ”
Martin joined in then. “What Monica’s saying, Mike, is what about the children?”
I looked sideways, like there was an explanation written on the wall. There wasn’t. I looked back at him. “What about them?”
Instead of elaborating, Martin looked meaningfully at the others. They looked as confused as I was.
That’s when my ears finally registered his dog whistle. Every single muscle in my body tensed, and I couldn’t think of the right, tactful words. I only had blunt, angry ones.
“If you’re concerned about your children, Martin, stop taking them to church.” The semicircle collectively gasped. “Statistically, that’s the most dangerous place for them.”
Monica bristled. “How dare you?”
“How dare I say a fact? What were you saying?”
“I was simply pointing out that you’re not a qualified teacher,” Monica said, her chin jutting stubbornly. “And you have a reputation for being… of loose virtue.”
This was fucking rich from a woman who used to bounce on me like a pogo stick.
I took a deep breath, forcing the blood to circulate.
Be cool, be cool, be cool. NEW MIKE.
“I didn’t say I was a teacher,” I told the group with superhuman calm.
“And like I just said, I’ll do all the vetting and pass with flying colors.
Mike’s Place will be a public hobby farm.
For families. You guys know I’m great at this kind of thing.
I always have been. Even back when I was—what’d you say, Monica?
—looking for my virtue in the lost and found, I was good at my job.
Nowadays I’m as virtuous as a newborn lamb, and I’m still good at my job. ”
It wasn’t how I’d planned to address the issue of my reputation around town. I had a tactful speech. Stuff about new leaves and maturing, blah-blah. But the Shailor-Chapmans and their bullshit had irritated it right out of my head.
Monica started to say something, but Michael Clarke intervened.
“All right, all right.” He put up a hand. “Everyone calm down.”
Too late I remembered that Michael’s wife was the minister at the Anglican church, so if anyone had reason to take offense to the ( true ) thing I said about the church, it would be him.
But he surprised me.
“Martin, Monica, stop dog whistling. It’s fair to ask if Mike is responsible with our money, and wonder if he’s ready to run a business of this scale. But it’s not fair to ask if kids are safe with him. Of course they are.”
Monica, lip jutting, crossed her arms. “Someone has to think of the children.”