Two farmers markets in and I still can't tell if I have a bakery or an expensive hobby
I've done six market Saturdays now. I sell out of morning buns by about ten most weeks and I go home with half the sourdough, which is its own lesson.
Here's my problem. A market day is Thursday shopping, Friday from 4pm to midnight baking, up at 4:30, tent up by six, on my feet until two, home and cleaning until four. Call it fourteen hours plus the Friday night. My best day grossed three hundred and eighty dollars before I subtract flour, butter, the stall fee and the gas.
People are lovely about it. Three regulars now, one who brings her mother. A man asked if I do wedding cakes and I said yes before I'd thought about it.
But 'people like my buns at a market' and 'this town needs another café' are not the same claim, and I can't work out how to test the second one without signing a lease to find out. I still have my job. My husband is supportive in the way that has a time limit on it.
What did validation actually look like for the people who went from something small to something with a door? What convinced you, and what turned out to be a false signal?