Читать книгу The Mumpreneur Diaries: Business, Babies or Bust - One Mother of a Year - Mosey Jones - Страница 32

You know that you’re a proper mumpreneur when you find yourself fixing your make-up in the dark in an underground car park using little more than Touche Éclat and a pair of blue Noddy pants, age 2-3.

I’m venturing out into the big wide world today. Often there aren’t just days but weeks when I don’t go much further than the edge of the village. But today I’m going up to town, to the smoke, to London. I’ve arranged to meet an old contact from my PR days who knows a bit about start-up businesses and how to go about getting them going.

The thrill of being allowed back into the world of the grown-ups (mothers’ corner at playgroup doesn’t count) is swiftly extinguished by yet another wardrobe crisis. That joey pouch is refusing to budge despite me spending the last four weeks pounding on the treadmill. Bosoms are also an issue, insofar as they don’t stay inside anything that’s not made of metres of cotton jersey. Shirts are a definite no-no as my cleavage is paying tribute to Debbie Does Dallas. I eventually drag on a dress which somehow manages to be both frumpy (hemline) and whoreish (neckline) at the same time. Hopefully the Pepto-Bismol-hued pashmina will distract my friend’s attention.

At least this time I remember the breast pads. Three weeks ago I was happily burbling away at Henry K on the radio show when I felt the telltale tingle under my armpits. This signals that I have exactly thirty seconds to deploy padding before the milk dam bursts and my top starts to darken in two very unmistakable ways. Halfway through dissecting the American Presidential Primaries I nonchalantly crossed my arms, hoping no one noticed me trying to stem the tide. I’m sure Henry thought it slightly odd that I kissed him goodbye and tried to leave the studio at the end of the show still with my arms firmly crossed over my chest.

My meeting today is instructive:

 Could I cope if lots of mums wanted to use the service straight away? (Probably, maybe, in fact no, not really.)

 Could I survive financially if no one used it straight away? (See 1.)

 Had I thought about marketing, had I developed a distinct brand and did I have a budget set aside for it? (Yes, no and although I have a percentage of revenues set aside for marketing, 10 per cent of nothing is still nothing so, no.)

 Was there a distinct division of labour between Partner in Crime and me to establish roles, boundaries, remuneration, etc. (No, in fact I haven’t seen her in ages. Must do something about that.)

 Had I arranged my tax, insurance, qualifications, criminal record checks, etc.? (No, no, no and um, no. Oh dear.)

There’s a saying: ‘If you’re not part of the solution, you’re part of the problem.’ Well, there are precious few solutions that come out of my meeting but a massive list of problems. At least I had a fairly comprehensive to-do list. I suppose I should be depressed that I thought I was good to go and it seems that I’m not even 5 per cent of the way to getting going on my own. But strangely I’m not. Now I’ve got my list of things to get on with, and if they’re all completed satisfactorily, I should have me a business.