The next morning, I was ready to become an entrepreneur.
I’d stayed up late reading the lemonade stand book. It made everything sound so easy. Pick a product, find customers, make a profit. Simple.
Lemonade seemed like the obvious choice. The book had a whole chapter about it. Plus, it was summer and hot. People would be thirsty.
I went downstairs to raid Mom’s kitchen for supplies.
“I need lemons, sugar, and cups,” I announced, opening the pantry.
“Whoa, hold on,” Mom said, looking up from her laptop. “What’s all this for?”
“My lemonade stand. I’m starting today.”
“That’s great, honey, but you’ll need to pay for those ingredients.”
“What?”
Mom closed her laptop. “If you’re going to start a business, there are going to be expenses. You can’t just use our groceries for free.”
I stared at her. “But I don’t have any money. That’s the whole point.”
“I know it seems backwards, but that’s how business works. You have to invest money to make money.”
My heart sank. How was I supposed to start a business if I needed money to start a business?
“How much would it cost?” I asked.
Mom thought for a minute. “Let’s see. Lemons, sugar, cups… probably around five dollars. I’ll tell you what – I’ll front you the money, but you have to pay me back from your profits.”
“Really?”
“Really. Think of it as a business loan. Ice and water are free, though,” she said with a wink.
I was tempted to roll my eyes, but instead said, “Deal!”
I shook her hand.
I found an old folding table in the garage and dragged it to the end of our driveway.
“What are you doing?” Dad asked, coming outside to head to work.
“Starting my business empire,” I said, squeezing lemons into a pitcher.
Dad smiled. “Your business empire?”
“My book says you have to think big.” I gestured grandly at my folding table and three lemons. “This is just the beginning. Soon I’ll have lemonade stands on every corner.”
“Well, good luck with your empire, honey.”
I made a sign on big piece of cardboard: FRESH LEMONADE – $1 PER CUP. The book said to price it competitively but not too cheap.
By ten o’clock, I was ready for customers.
After an hour of waiting with no customers, I was starting to worry. Maybe my sign wasn’t big enough?
Around noon, a teenager on a skateboard rolled up to my table.
“How much?” he asked.
“One dollar.”
“That’s expensive. I could do fifty cents,” I said quickly when he made a face.
He handed me two quarters. I poured him a cup, feeling relieved. My first sale!
He took a big gulp, then immediately spit it out. “Ugh! That’s disgusting! I want my money back.”
My face burned with embarrassment. I didn’t want to argue with a kid who was twice my size, so I gave him back his fifty cents.
He skateboarded away, shaking his head.
I tried a sip myself. He was right—it was way too sweet. I did my best to water it down.
About an hour later, Mom came outside carrying a plate with a peanut butter and jelly sandwich cut diagonally and another chair.
“How’s business?” she asked, setting the plate down on my table.
“Not great,” I admitted. “I think I made it too sweet.”
“Well, let me be your next customer. I’ll take a glass.” She pulled out a dollar bill.
I poured her a cup, watching nervously as she took a sip.
“Mmm,” she said, nodding approvingly. “It’s perfect.”
“Really?”
“Really. In fact, make that two glasses. One for me and one for you.” She pulled out another dollar. “I’ll pay for yours too.”
I poured myself a glass and we sat together at the card table, sharing the sandwich and drinking lemonade.
“You know what?” Mom said. “Sometimes the best part of running a business isn’t the money. It’s the people you share it with.”
It was cheesy, but she always did know how to make me feel better.
After we finished, I started to pour out the remaining lemonade, but Mom stopped me.
“Wait,” she said. “I’ll tell you what – I’ll buy the rest of this pitcher and the leftover supplies from you for three dollars. I can use them for when your dad gets home from work.”
“Really?”
“Really. It’s actually quite good.”
After we cleaned up and put the table away, Mom and I sat at the kitchen counter.
“So what did you learn today?” she asked.
I thought for a moment. “That I’m terrible at making lemonade?”
Mom laughed. “Maybe. But you know what? If you don’t get it right the first time, you can iterate.”
“Iterate?”
“It means you improve on what you did before. Like how you tried to water down the lemonade when that boy said it was too sweet. That was iterating.”
I nodded, understanding.
“And here’s another thing,” Mom continued. “Sometimes you can have a perfectly good product, but if there’s no one around to buy it, it doesn’t matter how good it is. Location matters. Timing matters. Customers matter.”
“So I should have set up somewhere with more people?”
“Maybe. Or maybe you need to think about locations where people would naturally expect to buy lemonade.”
I was starting to see that there was a lot more to business than just making something and expecting people to show up and buy it.