#nine three

More than a year into the pandemic, and we've miraculously survived. But the bleeding is getting harder to stop. We can't stem the tide. I'm fearing the worst for us, if I'll be honest. Not sure if it's because I've lost my incredible sense of optimism and fighting spirit, but it's just really coming to terms with the fact that we just can't keep up.

The bills are piling up, and there has been no assistance from the government despite promises since last year. We were just starting to do okay early this year with people and orders coming in, so we were gradually picking up our pace by trying to evolve once again. But lockdown happened and it basically cut us up anew. We couldn't accept guests which I really feel is how we managed to survive. We don't rely much on advertising, we've always gotten new customers through word of mouth. Whenever we did try going down the ad route, the gains from it were very short-lived and the costs ultimately outweighed them. We couldn't risk losing any more money.

Maybe it's time to let go. We knew the pandemic would eventually kill our small business, we just weren't sure when or how quickly. We survived a year despite many, many other small businesses like us closing up shop. We did so much, but the hits kept on coming and they keep on coming.

I always felt very strongly about letting go and giving up the fight. But I don't see what more I can do, what more I can add, what more I can change. It's difficult to think about letting go. This was the place that introduced me to my closest friends, that helped me grow after so many of life's hardships, that brought me back to life. This place was home.

I'm pretty sure a lot of people would think I'm being overly dramatic about a coffee shop. At the end of the day, it's a business. Businesses live and die, especially during a recession. But there's just so much about this place that I find it so heartbreaking to put it to rest. I know the most important thing is not the place itself. The friends I made, the experiences, the lessons, the memories. But these are all attached to this place which makes it feel like cutting off a part of myself.

The photo above was one I didn't take. It was sent to me while I was in Japan with some friends, so I could make a regular post on Instagram (I had just been recently, officially hired as the social media manager). I've always loved seeing Nine Three like this. Filled with people, very likely people sitting in one corner talking to people way over in the other corner. I loved knowing who our regulars were and entertaining their questions or just talking about coffee in general.

If you love something enough, you do what you can for it.

This was something I was thinking on the drive home from the café. It was also something I expressed to a friend one time when they casually asked why I’m doing so much more than I should be for the café. Being officially employed (with a contract and everything), I have a job description with a particular set of deliverables and tasks. I’m happy doing those things, but I find I’m doing a whole lot more for them, at no extra cost. And I choose to do so, all the time.

Perhaps this is my romanticizing things like I sometimes do. But that’s how I operate, both in work and in life. If I love something enough, I do what I can for it. It’s true. Perhaps the café has evolved into something much more than a place to hang out at and maybe get some work done. It’s become something I care deeply about that I don’t want it to fail. Maybe it’s a chicken-and-egg thing—I don’t want it to fail because it’s where I can hang out, get work done, and be myself. Regardless of reason, I’ve grown so in love with this place. I’d chalk it up to caring about the people behind it, maybe. My friends.

I mean at the end of the day, it’s a business. But it’s the kind of business where we get to play around with the things we love. Coffee. Board games. Food. Good company. Great conversation. Learning new things. The place is alive because of all the things we love, and I think that’s amazing.

I’m not sure if other cafés have built up a community as warm and quirky as Nine Three has, but I’m glad I was allowed to carve out my own little space here to fill the Tracy-shaped holes in their lives. This place has certainly filled a large portion of my life and my heart, and I cannot bear to think what my life would have been like without it anymore. I’ve managed to get through difficult thoughts and moments because of the support I get from the friends I’ve made here.