Keep On Keepin' On

by Annie Vieira

In most of my posts thus far, I have probably mentioned, reemphasized, and perhaps tiresomely regurgitated, how passionate Brooks and Kent are about Double Decker PDX. And not just passionate––I’m sure my praise of their proficiency, professionalism, and all around splendor, has at the very least grown mildly insipid. But in these early months, with the substantial enthusiasm and excitement the company has already garnered from the community, I can understand the ease with which the two have managed to remain confidently sanguine. In fact, their optimism had me so staunchly committed to the impression that they might somehow be incapable of failure, I seem to have neglected the tiniest of details––specifically, the fallible nature of being human. 

When you’re fresh out of college, for many individuals, a certain amount of cockiness is fairly standard first-job behavior. You know the newest technologies, the newest policies and benchmarks, you’re sharper, faster, hungrier, and I’ll be damned if you’re not better looking. Of course people take their bosses for granted. Why wouldn’t you become resentful of that superior breathing down your neck? After all, he or she is simply a now obsolete version of you.

But alas, that day will inevitably come when you make a... gasp... mistake. There is a reason most of us start out at the bottom. It has nothing to do with skill or potential, but we must work our way up so that we can learn––so that by the time we are in a position of authority and it is our responsibility to shoulder the blame for any problem or error, we are equipped with the necessary experience to make the important decisions and the wisdom to know which direction to take. Business, like most things in life, cannot be taught in a classroom.

Yes, Brooks and Kent are lucky in many ways: they only have to answer to themselves, they make their own hours, rules, decisions, and direction. Yet, with that comes an immeasurable amount of pressure. And when you make one of those unavoidable mistakes, there is no one to turn to for advice and no safety net of knowledgeable superiors to Band-Aid it for you.

I think this realization has come gradually for Double Decker PDX. I hadn’t seen Brooks and Kent for about two weeks when we were finally able to meet for a quick cup of coffee last Sunday. Although, on the surface everything seemed business as usual, I could sense a palpable shift in their energy. Stress was painted across their faces and you could practically see the weight of responsibility bearing down. Watching them, I was reminded of a moment I had with Brooks the morning they picked up the bus from the train yard.

One of the things I didn’t mention last week was that, although it was fabulously poetic, the shipment was never scheduled for the morning of Christmas Eve. In reality, the bus was expected to arrive a few days prior, on Tuesday of that week. However, at about 9 pm on Monday evening I received a call from Kent. When I answered the phone, one of the last things I expected to hear was: “Annie, they lost the bus.”

As Kent explained it to me, he and Brooks had been regularly checking with From-the-Waist-Up Larry on the status of the bus’s journey. Due to it’s enormity, the bus was shipped in a specialty container of which––according to Larry––there are only a handful in existence. Mere moments after boasting about the infallible reliability of their computer tracking system, Larry typed in the necessary information only to find out that the bus was supposedly already in his yard. “Well that’s strange,” he told them, “because I can tell you it’s definitely not here.” And so marked the beginning to The Case of the Missing Double Decker Bus, a mystery which raises the question: How does one simply misplace a 16,000 pound vehicle––particularly one in a rare specialty container?

Although the container did eventually arrive in Portland and the problem was ultimately solved, this was just one in a series of setbacks and lessons Brooks and Kent endured while simply purchasing a bus. Mishaps of this nature can be amusing in their absurdity––they can be retold, laughed at, and enjoyed by your friends––things that seem to soften the blow of a problem. Yet, as you progress through the stages of building a business and begin to encounter mistakes and mishaps that are less anecdotal (like financial woes or logistical predicaments), I imagine it becomes increasingly difficult to find the amusement in the lesson. And, as time wears on and some of the initial outside enthusiasm and interest naturally begins to wane, where does one look for the strength and energy to remain resolute through it all?

As Brooks and I got in his car to drive to the train yard the morning of Christmas Eve, I witnessed his first fleeting glimmer of uncertainty. For the briefest of moments, he seemed slightly overcome by the sheer immensity of what he and Kent were on the cusp of doing. He paused for a moment before starting the car, took a deep breath, and said simply, “Well, I guess this is really happening.”

During that last meeting over coffee, it occurred to me that Brooks and Kent have entered what will likely prove to be one of the more difficult stages in this entire process. It is easy to remain motivated when you have either that boss breathing down your neck or people patting you on the back in encouragement––but for the moment Brooks and Kent have only themselves. With the exhilaration of newness mostly gone and only the lackluster remnants of that early anticipation, this is the time that will challenge their tenacity. The work they are doing now is largely behind closed doors and less thrilling on a daily basis. The excitement will probably rebuild once the renovations are complete and the business is up and running, but these next couple of months will be a testament to their steadfastness. This would be a challenging time for any company, but particularly for people at the age of Brooks, Kent, and me, who maybe have yet to learn the ability to see the bigger picture. The truth is we simply haven’t been on this earth long enough to fully understand what commitment really means––commitment through the mistakes, commitment through the monotonous stages, commitment when things are difficult or no longer fun, and commitment even when no one is holding your hand and no one is congratulating you every step of the way.

-Annie Vieira

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