The Lemon

My granddaughter Holland had her first lemonade stand two weeks ago.

With her brightly colored signs, a container of fresh lemonade, and a prime location at the corner of her neighborhood park, she was ready for business.

Holland sat in her little chair, smiling and waving to potential customers as they drove by.

She was highly motivated as her mom, Quincey, told her she could keep half of the money to buy whatever toys her 4-year-old heart desired.

The other half was going to charity.

But all Holland heard was “money,” “keep,” “toys.”

This girl had her eye on the prize.

An hour in, we already had made multiple sales.

Nobody could resist that adorable face.

All was going smoothly until we ran out of ice and Quincey decided to go get more.

“Do you think that’s a good idea?” I asked, slightly concerned.

What if there’s a lemonade rush, and we just lost ⅓ of our sales force?

“You’ll be fine,” Quincey said, waving goodbye. “Just sell lemonade.”

I nodded.

You have one job, I told myself. Sell lemonade.

A few minutes later, one of the neighborhood families at the park invited Holland over to play.

Great, there goes our top salesperson!

And quite frankly, the backbone of this operation.

“Come back when we have a customer,” I told Holland as she ran off.

I shouldn’t have worried because after Holland left (abandoned me), we didn’t have any customers.

We had “almost customers.”

People would cruise by, their windows down, expecting to see a cute kid selling lemonade.

As they got closer, their expressions turned from joy to confusion.

At first glance, they thought, wow, that’s a BIG kid!

And as they got even closer… and an OLD kid!

The lemonade biz has not been kind to her.

“It’s not me selling lemonade,” I tried to explain to folks as they rolled up their windows.

“Holland!” I yelled toward the park. “Come back, I need you!”

“I’m busy, G’Ma!” she called, swinging high into the air.

Like some union worker, Holland was on a break, and wouldn’t be returning anytime soon.

“She’ll be right back…”

But the potential customer had already driven away.

This happened several times.

The expectant smiles would dissolve into bewilderment, followed by anger, as they sped off.

Hey, Lady, why are you poaching a kid’s lemonade stand? Get a real job!

In the 20 minutes I manned the lemonade stand, sales plummeted.

And so did my confidence as a lemonade entrepreneur.

It didn’t help that the the teenagers across the street had decided to blast their stereo at full volume, the pounding bass reverberating throughout the neighborhood.

It now appeared that I was pumping in explicit gangsta rap for my middle-aged lemonade stand.

Potential customers went from irritated to outraged.

Hey, Lady, this is NOT appropriate music for a kid’s lemonade stand.

“I’m not in charge of the music!” I yelled out after the screeching tires.

But just when I thought I wasn’t going to make a single sale, a woman and her son walked by.

“Delicious lemonade!” I called out.

They stopped to read the sign as one of the tamer songs, Rick James’ “Super Freak,” blared.

I spoke loudly, trying to drown out the lyrics.

“It’s just one dollar a cup- -”

“SHE’S A VERY KINKY GIRL, THE KIND YOU DON’T TAKE HOME TO MOTHER …”

“And half of the money will go to- -”

“SHE WILL NEVER LET YOUR SPIRITS DOWN, ONCE YOU GET HER OFF THE STREETS…”

Fortunately, the woman seemed oblivious to the music. “We’ll take two,” she said, reaching into her pocket.

Finally!

I grabbed two cups and began pouring.

“Uh, oh,” the woman said. “I thought I had cash…”

I stopped.

Customers who wanted lemonade, but didn’t bring money, were not our target audience.

There was a long awkward pause.

“WHEN I MAKE MY MOVE TO HER ROOM, IT’S THE RIGHT TIME…”

“I could Venmo you,” the woman offered.

A venmo for $2? 

I couldn’t!

But then I heard Quincey’s voice, Sell lemonade…

Quincey returned a few minutes later.

“How did it go?” she asked, eying the lemonade dispenser.

“Well, there was a bit of lull,” I confessed. “But we did have two customers.”

“So we made two dollars?” 

“Kind of …” I said.

Quincey stopped, and looked around. “What’s with the music?” she asked.

“It’s catchy, huh?” I said, trying to put a positive spin on it.

Quincey summoned Holland over, where she immediately resumed her position as the face of the lemonade stand.

Holland smiled, waved, and once again, business boomed.

Rumor has it that Holland has another lemonade stand in the works.

However, there has been some restructuring in the sales force.

Holland feels some of the workers would be better “behind the scenes.”

I wonder which workers she’s talking about.