Your Perfect Year(4)
There was no doubt about it—Hannah had fallen in love in her sleep. No, it wasn’t an erotic dream about some stranger; not at all. Nor was it a dream involving someone she knew—no former coworker, neighbor, or any of her friends.
In fact, she couldn’t recall a man featuring in her dream at all. Only a feeling. That unequivocal feeling of being in love. Of warmth and security, of butterflies in the stomach, of an excess of joy and high spirits, laughter and craziness. And of happiness. Yes, happiness.
With a sigh, she swung her legs over the side of the bed and sat for a moment. She shook her head in the hope it might bring her thoughts to order and exorcise the nebulous dream. However pleasant the feeling might have been, she needed a clear head this morning. This was going to be an important day.
She and her best friend and business partner, Lisa, had spent the last six months renovating a run-down store on Eppendorfer Weg. They’d drawn up business plans for their new enterprise, filled out endless forms, created a website, and even put together a considerable amount of start-up capital through crowdfunding (with a little help from Hannah’s and Lisa’s parents). They’d considered the marketing and advertising, had flyers printed, decorated Lisa’s old VW microbus with their self-designed logo, and, and, and . . .
And now the time had come: at two o’clock they would be opening Little Rascals Events—“The Entertainment Agency for Kids”—with a massive children’s party.
Hannah had been mulling over the idea for ages, if only in the back of her mind. It had been her dream for almost ten years—since the day she and Lisa had begun working at a daycare center together after training as assistants in the same class.
They had both been disillusioned by the low pay and terrible working hours, but Hannah had been even more troubled by the conditions affecting the center—never enough money for suitable toys and craft materials, trips, or additional activities like gymnastics or music lessons; a sandpit in the playground that was usually empty; and a ramshackle swing that was a veritable safety hazard.
Her little charges’ parents had always been willing to make financial contributions, but for reasons that were a mystery to Hannah and Lisa, the center’s management had refused point-blank to countenance such measures.
Three moves to different daycare facilities proved to be no more satisfactory; the two women found similar deplorable circumstances everywhere. And so Hannah had for a long time harbored the dream of starting up a business of her own. She wanted to achieve something independent of managers and committees, something that would bring true happiness into children’s lives. Parents would be willing to pay for the privilege of knowing that their little ones were in good, caring hands.
And so, about six months ago, after turning the idea over and over in her mind, Hannah had brought Lisa in on her plans. She had convinced her they had to try it—they should hand in their notice and make a go of the Little Rascals project. Otherwise, they’d never know if it would have been a success. As those well-known words of wisdom put it: At the ends of their lives, they would regret not the things they’d done, but the things they hadn’t done.
When Hannah told Simon about their project, he had called it “utter madness,” something “the world doesn’t need,” adding that to leave a secure job because of “some silly notion” was a “kamikaze mission.” And in his eyes, adding insult to injury by “dragging your friend into it” was “the height of irresponsibility.”
At times he had come close to convincing her to give in. Maybe when she’d been feeling particularly stressed as she battled with the business plan after a demanding day’s work, or when she was suddenly beset by the fear that, should things go wrong, she was putting not only her own future in the balance, but Lisa’s as well.
Over time, Hannah had managed to convince both herself and her doomsayer of a boyfriend that although the country might be stricken by a crisis in the media industry—which directly affected Simon, who’d recently been laid off from his job as an editor with the Hamburg News—her idea for a children’s events agency was nevertheless a brilliant one.
Before handing in their notices, she and Lisa had circulated a skillfully drafted questionnaire among more than two hundred parents. With the results, they had determined exactly what the moms and dads were looking for and how much they were prepared to pay for a service that enabled them to continue to work or improve their golf handicap free of the responsibility of childcare.
The information obtained from this exercise—and the sensational success of the crowdfunding venture—had ultimately impressed even Simon. He had to admit to Hannah that even if her idea only half fulfilled her expectations, it would easily cover the pittance she’d earned as a daycare assistant.
The basic plan was simple: she and Lisa would offer their program of events in the afternoons, early evenings, and especially on weekends, appealing to families who needed or wanted care for their little ones outside the normal daycare business hours. At an unbeatable hourly rate of six euros per child—substantially less than minimum wage—they were cheaper than any babysitter but would be offering so much more than paid TV watching or the kind of basic childcare that was deemed a success if none of the children met their end.
Little Rascals was going to be different, offering all kinds of fun and activities. They even intended to host a sleepover party once a month, giving parents the opportunity for a night on the town followed by a longed-for good night’s sleep. If demand proved high, they’d hold these events more often.