Had you asked me back at the beginning of February what I thought April 1 would look like, my answer would have been nothing like this. Had you even asked me at the start of March, I probably wouldn’t have been very close.  Today feels like nothing I could have imagined I would see.

And I’ve seen quite a bit over the 14 years of keeping this little café in operation.

Butter Bakery has had its share of ups and downs.  Those first couple years were spent with many long days and nights trying to adapt and adjust to just get something close to a positive cash flow.  There were equipment breakdowns and power failures. We weathered storms and blizzards that shut down the city for a day or so.  I have had staff come and go, sometimes very abruptly, sometimes with no word at all.  We struggled to get enough traffic, then we struggled to fit our busiest days into a tiny Grand Ave storefront.  We tried to move, then managed to move, with months of design, construction, fundraising, packing and moving and resetting.  We operated for months without a road at all, and now operating for a couple years of construction detours that have included road closures and new commuter patterns that took us off our neighbors’ paths.  We’ve seen changes in taste, changes in competitors, and changes in politics and ordinances. 

We’ve seen a lot. And by seeing a lot have been able to make plans that help us adjust and adapt. But a pandemic?  Hadn’t planned to see that.

Adapt we must. 

So, with sales hovering at about 30 to 40% of what we expect at this time of year, we found other ways to gather enough revenue to make March payrolls continue.  We started with what we knew how to do already – sell some gift cards, start up our Community Supported Bread Shares a bit earlier than usual, and streamline our pick up and take out options. 

We’ve also tried to start up some things that we hadn’t used much: delivery options, deli case ready to go items, and pantry/make-at-home items.  

These however don’t fill the missing income from daily dining that we’ve built our shop around. 

So, adjust we must.

And though the past couple years of slower-paced customer traffic has meant we’ve already adjusted to work with a thin, efficient staffing model, even this couldn’t set me up for releasing six of our 18 staff.  Matching payroll hours to customer sales has indeed meant trying to cut over half my payroll costs, an impossible task for a place that makes everything from scratch. 

And, asking for help – we are.

After spending the past few years advocating for sick and safe time for all workers regardless of their workplace setting or number of hours worked in a week, and after working to create a small-business focused team within our city’s economic development division, and after years of travelling to the state legislature to plead for a state-wide paid medical leave fund to support staff who need to be away from work for an extended time, it seems a virus has done more in the past month than I’ve accomplished in several years in making the case for me. 

Support is indeed making its way to our café.  Whether that is the ongoing visits of neighbors who tell us that community spaces like this are indeed essential, or the deferment of loan payments, or the offer of grants and forgivable loans to help me continue to keep staff on payroll and offer paid sick time – these make a difference in how I see the days ahead.  

The uncertainty is still the most difficult part.  The inability to see what’s ahead from here.  I really can’t tell you what May 1 will look like, except greener, and still full of love.

Tuesday, I was on a ladder out front of the café washing our windows after a long gritty winter. With clean windows and a clear view of Nicollet Avenue and the couple of patio tables I had just set out, I felt like I was seeing things a bit differently.  Sometimes a clear view is all you really need.  May we find that clarity as we continue to walk the green path together (respecting social distance of course).