Fred Aiken Writing

I started For Pleasant’s Sake after a string of failed business ideas ran into the ground.

There was the coffee shop. The flower shop. The light bulb shop. The general shop. The hair plugs shop. And a few more, though I’m sure it doesn’t matter.

Either way, it’s a bit impressive how much failure defines my business career.

Some might take it as a sign. Stop failing. Or stop opening up shops near Walmart and Target. Come up with an actual profitable idea that customers will actually come out for.

Rinse. Repeat. Recycle. Or something like that.

So, I had this dream. Nothing super out of the ordinary. But I had this dream to open up a store that offered customers the service of pleasantness. It seems ridiculous, I know. I don’t mean to make it sound as such. But I also didn’t want to over-complicate the matter of my business prospectus with some over-the-top dissertation of a business plan.

Instead, all I do is perform various tasks and services for customers’ customized needs that have the end result of being pleasant.

Take for example the case of Mr. Barmoti, this sixty-two year old man widower who hadn’t experienced a home cooked meal in over four years. He hired me to come over to his house, cook and serve him a pleasant meal, and fellowship with him for the evening.

The operation is pretty customizable, and no two jobs are exactly alike, since no two customers have the same definition of pleasantness.

“So, I need to come up with the service for you to do for me?”

I guess, in a way. Or, if you’d like, I have an entire binder of services and specializations that I am known for. Specials, I guess you could call them. But if don’t want to be constrained by what other customers or myself have come up with as a pleasant service, then I’d be happy to develop on for you.

“Would you even be willing to kill yourself?”

That doesn’t sound pleasant. I can’t believe that anyone would find that pleasant, would you?

Don’t get me wrong, of course I retain the right not to serve customers that make ridiculous requests to fit their demented sense of pleasantry. I have standards and policies.

I won’t commit a crime. I won’t harm or injure either myself or others. I guess in a way, it has to be generally agreed upon as mutually pleasant by all parties connected to the service, I would say, or else I’m probably not going to do it.

I do hope you’ll come back and see us some time. I think everyone would enjoy a little pleasantness in their lives. And sure, it might be a little sad that the state of this world requires pleasantry to be dictated by profit. But you gotta get joy out of something in life, am I right? Why not make this your one stop shop for a pleasant experience?