Advice 101: Seek Out Those Who Can Help You

After much coaxing from George who insisted that 'we can do this', I agreed to pursue this crazy venture on one condition: that we both take this business course I saw advertised in one of the Brooklyn papers. It was early 2003. It might have been January, maybe February. I just remember that the evenings got dark early and it was cold outside.

As part of our coursework for the class, we were required to do market research which, for two budding restaurateurs, means going out to eat a lot. I had read a good review of Nana, a pan-asian restaurant in Park Slope and was intrigued enough by it to suggest to George that we take the train there from central Brooklyn one night after class and try it out.

Over the meal, we talk about the road we are venturing down, what it could mean and where it could lead. After eating, we walk over to the large fish tank in the front window filled with oranda goldfish to quietly observe them.

Before we know it, we are approached by someone who I think is going to boot us out of the restaurant since it is late and we had already finished and paid for our meal.

That introduction turned into an hour and a half conversation about our dream of starting a restaurant. The gentleman, it turns out, was Eric the owner of Nana. He sat us down and gave us so much information, answering each and every one of our questions no matter how personal they were about his business. He offered up detailed information about how he got started and what this venture would end up costing us. He even pointed out the store front across the street from him (which would end up becoming Brooklyn Fish Camp), suggesting we speak to the landlord about renting that spot.

"5th Avenue is the next hot avenue," he told us in early 2003. I have to admit I wasn't convinced. "7th Avenue is great for people to stroll but they come down here to eat," he told us.

He told us with every bit of confidence that has enabled him to become successful, that we do could do it. "You can do it" and even alluded to God and to the spiritual nature of the journey in his encouragement. "It will all come to you," he said.

We left there that night feeling the "wow" factor. "Wow. That was amazing." That was what I refer to a "GIA" moment: 'God In Action.' GIA--placing the people we need to meet across our path at the right moment giving us information to keep us going.

Because we knew Fort Greene, Brooklyn quite well, we chose to look for an available commercial space there. Nothing in Fort Greene panned out. Lo and behold, we've ended up 2 and a half years after meeting Eric on the same street and just a few doors down from where we had that dinner that cold February night.

The message I took away from that night that has carried me through was this: "You can do it."