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THE HAND TRUCK INCIDENT

One of the important goals we hoped to accomplish during the International Premium Cigar and Pipe Retailers (IPCPR) convention was to purchase a cabinet style humidor for our store. We thought it might be possible to get a good deal especially if we managed to talk someone into selling us a display model off the convention floor. Plus, bringing it home in the back of my truck would also save shipping costs. As it turned out, finding the perfect humidor at a reasonable price was the easy part. All it took was a credit card, a few moments for paperwork before a beautiful, slightly used humidor was ours. The fun started when we tried to arrange a pick up time.

We told the sales lady that we planned to return at the end of the convention to collect the humidor. She was okay with that. Then she asked what we intended to do next. We explained that we thought we w ould borrow a hand truck and move the humidor to the front of the convention hall where I would load it on my pickup truck. She frowned, shook her head and said that we might have a problem with our plan. When we asked how our simple intentions could possibly cause a problem she suggested talking to someone in the convention floor manager’s office.

A short walk to the back of the convention hall brought us to a small office staffed by a bored woman behind a cluttered desk. We explained that we had just purchased a rather large piece of furniture that we wanted to move to the front of the convention center and load onto my pickup truck at the end of the show. Without looking up she flatly stated that there were two problems with our plan. First, union rules clearly indicated that loading and unloading could only be accomplished at the rear of the center. She added as an aside that a police pass would be required to drive a private vehicle to the loading and unloading area. Those passes could only be picked up at the police office on the other side of the hall. Then she pointed out that the second problem with our plan was another union rule forbidding any non-union person from moving objects on the convention floor. With a sweet smile she added that there was some good news because a union operated hand truck could be rented by the hour if we made an appointment. "Okay," we said, "All of this seems like an incredible hassle, but we can deal with it. How much will it cost to get a union operated hand truck for 15 minutes at the end of the show?" Another sweet smile and she answered, "Only 80 dollars per hour and the minimum rental is one hour." My first thought after the sticker shock wore off was that I have got to see the hand truck that requires an 80 dollar an hour union trained and approved operator, because I’ve always been under the impression that hand trucks were pretty simple tools. In fact, I remember buying one a couple of years ago for about 30 or 40 dollars in spite of the fact that I don’t hold a union membership card. Incredibly, I don’t recall getting any special hand truck training and I’m absolutely positive I’ve never had an accident with my hand truck. My second, third and forth thoughts are not repeatable. We thanked the nice lady and told her that we’d be in touch. She nodded and commented that that was what most people said.

While walking away we came up with a better if somewhat less organized plan. It was fairly simple. Step One: Get a police pass so we could legally drive to the rear of the convention hall. Step Two: Drive to the rear of the convention hall after the show. Step Three: Wing it from there. Satisfied that we had a workable plan that promised to save us at least 80 dollars we proceeded to enjoy the remainder of the convention. Two days later we put our plan into action.

At the end of the convention Rick and I drove to the rear of the convention hall armed with our police pass. We flashed the pass at the police check point and were waved through to the loading and unloading area. I parked the truck as inconspicuously as possible and Rick went inside to begin the "winging it" portion of our plan. I remained with the truck and entertained myself by watching in amazement as union operated fork lifts dropped, ran over and generally mangled dozens of crates as they attempted to load them on moving vans parked nearby. In one particularly memorable incident a fork lift was moving rather quickly with a wide wooden crate. Driving backwards and looking over his shoulder the operator failed to notice a concrete pole that struck the crate causing it to spin off of the fork lift and crash to the ground. The top of the crate flew off followed by a flood of broken glass. The noise of the crash caused a man with a hard hat and clip board to run over and inspect the mess. After a moment he started barking orders and a couple of bystanders began sweeping the tiny glass pieces back into the case. When they finished they set the crate back on the fork lift and reattached the top. The fork lift then took off as if nothing had ever happened. Someone is going to get a very unpleasant surprise when they open that crate I thought. Then I wondered if the 80 dollar an hour hand truck operators were better trained or at least more concerned.

Rick eventually reappeared from the back of the convention hall with our humidor on a hand truck. Amazingly, he was operating it by himself in what appeared to be a completely safe and competent manner! Assuming he had not recently joined the hand truck operator’s union I knew we were in violation of several important union rules and more than likely a couple of New Orleans city ordinances. We tried not to attract any attention as we quickly loaded the humidor onto the bed of my pickup truck. I tied everything down tight as Rick returned the "borrowed" hand truck to wherever it belonged. By the time Rick returned I had the truck running. Rick jumped in and said "Let’s get out of here before someone figures out what we’ve done." I nodded in agreement, put the truck in gear and we made a rapid and successful get away.

THE IPCPR ROAD TRIP

Our second road trip benefitted from better advanced planning than our first, which isn’t saying much. Instead of dashing off on a whim we had talked about attending the International Premium Cigar and Pipe Retailers Association convention in New Orleans for weeks, dating back to the very first discussions about our cigar store. In fact, after weeks of anticipation and lengthy planning sessions the convention began to take on mythical characteristics. We dreamed of delightful days in the "Big Easy" spent in enjoyable and interesting conversations while we sampled cigars and pipe tobaccos with manufacturers and enthusiasts from every corner of the US. We were looking forward to spending several days in a place where thousands could gather and enjoy cigars without looking over their shoulders for the anti-smoking police. While it was, at times, hard to imagine such a magical place we were certainly ready for an adventure to see if it existed. We got an early start and soon rolled into New Orleans.

We made good time and arrived early enough to check into our hotel, unpack and then catch a cab to the convention center in time to attend the opening seminars conducted by the Cigar Rights of America group and the Tobacconist University. The presentations were interesting, but the strongest impression was made by the audience. When the first presentation started nearly everyone pulled out a cigar or pipe and started smoking! We were stunned. After all, we were inside the New Orleans Riverfront Hilton and we were watching several hundred people smoke without anyone throwing a fit! "Yes," I thought, "we were indeed in that magical place I had dreamed about, the Promised Land for cigar smokers." Unfortunately, in our group only Rick had the foresight to bring a cigar to the seminars. Actually, this wasn’t surprising as Rick is never without a cigar or two in his shirt pocket, day or night. Rick quickly produced a stogie, bummed a light and was soon puffing away. Dave and I resigned ourselves to enjoying the second hand smoke for the remainder of the afternoon.

The next day the convention began in earnest. We were among the first to walk through the convention doors entering an amazing cigar wonderland. As far as the eye could see were banners, displays and booths with names we recognized and many we didn’t. There were cigar and pipe tobacco companies of course, but also companies representing every conceivable smoking accessory. Refusing to give in to the temptation to wonder around the convention floor, or be distracted by all the displays, we followed our well conceived and thoroughly thought out plan. We quickly made our way to the Oliva area to begin our first business meeting. Someone offered each of us a "breakfast cigar" -- a new concept for me -- and we started on the paperwork to set up our account. And that was the exact moment our trip to the IPCPR convention shifted from a visit to a cigar amusement park to something a whole lot like work.

By the time our meeting with Oliva concluded we were hopelessly behind our carefully crafted plan. We didn’t realize it then, but we had just experienced a pattern that would be repeated many times during the following days. Each meeting with our targeted cigar manufacturers became long, complicated, technical, and, at times, stressful affairs as we completed reams of paperwork while spending breathtaking amounts of money. Every completed meeting was a major milestone, however by the end of the first day it was apparent to each of us that the convention would finish well before we reached the end of our "to do" list. A new approach was obviously needed.

The next day we decided to split up and attack the convention from several fronts. This new course of action allowed us to cover more ground. Unfortunately, it also added a new requirement for coordination meetings at breakfast, lunch and in the evenings to compare notes. By midway through the second day the convention had become a hazy blur of meetings about buying cigars, discussions about new cigars, paperwork on top of paperwork, short breaks to smoke cigars and then more meetings. The days seemed long, demanding and tiring, but they weren’t long enough for us to get ahead of our increasingly optimistic schedule. We kept working, scurrying from one meeting to the next, but all too soon it was noon on the last day and the convention was over. We took our unfinished "to do" list and wandered back to our hotel.

After checking out, loading our cars and starting home the weather turned gloomy. Soon it was raining. After a while Rick turned off the radio announcing, "I need some quiet." The next five hours were spent in silence as neither of us was willing to start a conversation. What didn’t seem possible a few short days earlier had occurred. Rick and I had reached an overwhelming cigar saturation point. We both needed a break from talking, thinking and even smoking cigars. The sound of the rain on the windshield was relaxing as we headed north toward Montgomery. It was fun. It was hard work. But, it was most of all an education.

OUR FIRST ROAD TRIP

Rick’s unexpected announcement that it was time for a road trip wasn’t inspired by any "Animal House" inclinations as far as I could tell -- far from it. In fact, during the first couple of weeks at our new store the days had fallen into an unrelenting pattern that had us painting, repairing, cleaning and then painting some more for nearly fourteen hours a day to upgrade our future cigar store. Even worse, during the first week we didn’t have electricity forcing us to work without air conditioning, something I do not recommend, especially during an Alabama July. So, Rick’s announcement was welcome. I was more than ready to put my paint brush down for a few hours. Rick explained that he thought a trip to the Cigars and More store in Birmingham for a Rocky Patel event would be a good chance to add to our limited knowledge of cigar store operations. I quickly agreed and a couple days later we quit work early, c leaned up, locked the store and headed north.

As we pulled out of Montgomery I asked Rick if he had any idea where we were headed. "Not really," he answered, adding, "It’s somewhere on highway 280, I think." I proudly pulled out my Garmin and stated, "Then it’s a good thing I brought this." We settled into the drive to Birmingham and I started searching for directions to the store only to discover that the Garmin did not recognize the address I entered. Thinking the address had recently changed for some unknown reason I tried searching for the store using the shopping function. Again I drew a blank and was amazed to learn that my Garmin believes there are no cigar stores in Birmingham. Then I began to wonder if it was intentionally programmed to ignore cigar stores. That sinister possibility, if true, would mean GPS manufacturers had joined the ranks of the anti-cigar villains. Momentarily distracted, I thought a call to the good folks at Cigar Rights of America would be in order so they could begin an immediate investigation into this disturbing situation.

Meanwhile, as I formulated conspiracy theories Rick and I raced toward Birmingham with little more than a vague idea of where we were actually headed. Finally, I decided the call to the CRA could wait at least until I figured out a route to the store and the cigar event. In desperation I glanced at the event advertisement in a Southern Cigar Lifestyle magazine I had been planning to read during the drive. Then I saw the navigation clue I was searching for in black and white on the page. The advertisement clearly stated that the Cigars and More store was located behind the Full Moon BBQ. I started searching for the restaurant in the Garmin thinking this step would surely work. After all, we were in the Deep South and it’s one thing to ignore cigar stores, but no self respecting GPS would ever miss any BBQ joints, big or small, famous, infamous or otherwise. Within seconds the Garmin was talking to us and we were on track to the Rocky Patel event.

After the near fiasco of never finding the Cigars and More store the event was a very pleasant experience. We saw first hand how a big, successful event is managed and we made dozens of new friends. We even managed to corner Rocky for a moment when he graciously offered valuable advice and his insights about starting a cigar store. Finally, to top off the evening I won a door prize, scoring three cigars and an autographed Rocky Patel cutter. All-in-all it was a successful road trip and a much appreciated break from our painting chores, although I remain troubled by the apparent fact that the anti-cigar zealots have successfully infiltrated Garmin GPS units and nobody appears to be concerned but me.

IN THE BEGINNING
By the spring of this year it was becoming increasingly apparent that our favorite cigar store was not going to survive the deteriorating economy. When the end finally came a couple days before the Fourth of July weekend it arrived quickly and with surprising finality. Within a matter of hours we were ordered to leave as the property owner changed the locks and turned out the lights. Days later, when negotiations to open a different cigar store in the old location broke down we began planning for a new store in earnest.

As we started to search for a location we received a bit of good advice from our new friends at Southern Cigar Lifestyle magazine. They told us to try to find a free standing building. Strip mall locations, they said sometimes come with common-wall neighbors that complain about cigar smoke. They also mentioned that we should make sure there were smoking areas in the store. With that in mind we soon settled on an old house that had been converted into a store many decades earlier. That conversion resulted in a very open interior with built in shelving, track lighting and ceiling fans in most rooms. There was even a windowless area that was quickly earmarked as the future humidor. But it wasn’t all good. We couldn’t help noticing that the building was nearly 70 years old and in desperate need of a fresh coat of paint and several major repairs, but the location was great, the rent reasonable and the realtor refreshingly pleasant. How could we lose, we asked ourselves?

Front of the store before we started… and this is the inside.

As we waited to get a rental contract written and signed we spent many afternoons and evenings enjoying adult beverages and fine cigars while planning our next moves. Early on our planning sessions focused on cigars; specifically the brands and quantities we wanted to stock. Soon however, our focus changed as Chuck’s wife, Roxanne joined the planning and convinced us of the importance of proper decorating. It didn’t take very long before we became conversant in paint schemes, complementary colors, art work themes and room-to-room flow. Eventually we settled on “Havana Dreamin” for our name and a beach house setting for our theme, complete with bright Cuban style colors. By the time we finally got the keys to the building we were well armed with a decorating plan, a seemingly endless list of projects and an impressive amount of painting tools and supplies. Now the real work began as we slowly transformed a tired, faded and worn out store into a bright, vibrant and inviting location.

Chuck and Roxanne start painting.

Painting was only part of our efforts, but it took up the majority of our time. Somehow we managed to simultaneously juggle several projects as we painted and repaired. Spanish cedar and shelves were ordered and installed in the humidor; old exterior doors were replaced with sturdier models and furniture obtained from a variety of sources including the local flea market which became a favorite source of eclectic beach house items. We also repaired windows, installed blinds and gutted the old kitchen and back storage room so we could turn those areas into more useable space. A whole house attic fan was ordered and immediately installed to remove cigar smoke. Once we finished a few rooms we decided to start selling cigars even though we only had a limited stock on hand. Rick made a convincing argument that limited stock or not, we had to do something to start reversing our breathtakingly negative cash flow. So we started selling while work progressed.

Rick at the ready to reverse our cash flow.

Friends from the old cigar store were soon dropping by on a regular basis to enjoy a cigar and watch our progress. Part of the watching process apparently includes a license to offer loads of “helpful” advice on painting techniques (you missed a spot), decorating themes (that picture looks crooked to me) and store plans (you need a coffee pot and microwave in here). In the midst of the selling and painting multitasking we took two road trips. The first took us to Birmingham for a Rocky Patel event at the Cigars and More store and the other to the International Premium Cigar and Pipe Retailers convention in New Orleans. More on both of those adventures in later blogs, but suffice it to say they were great trips and nice breaks from our painting duties.

Friends checking on our progress. Chuck with Rocky at Cigars and More.

When we returned from New Orleans we entered the final phase of our store improvement plans. All that remained was to carpet the old storage area, finish the kitchen and put a covered deck on the back of the store. We also started an advertising campaign on the local sports talk radio that surprised us with its effectiveness. New customers started arriving daily. They were welcome of course, but the increasing foot traffic through the store slowed our work progress. Additionally, a new distraction began occurring. Nearly every day a FedEx or UPS delivery truck would arrive with boxes of cigars ordered during the convention. Whenever that occurred work stopped as invoices were checked, cigars priced and then placed in the humidor. Frequently when the arriving order was large we found ourselves rearranging the humidor displays to create room for the new cigars. Through it all we managed to keep making slow but steady progress on our improvement projects. Then we were done. We finally declared victory last week as the last shelf in the kitchen was painted. The timing was good as we hosted our first cigar event with Oliva Cigars two days later.

The new look, beach house style. Finally finished and open for business.

Looking back on the last two months we’ve done an impressive amount of work and accomplished a great deal, but we couldn’t have gotten as far as we have without the strong support of our many friends. Not only did our patrons buy cigars when we really didn’t have much to sell, but many volunteered to paint and work on projects. At this point we would all agree we’re very happy the journey is over, but it’s probably safe to say that all of us would have had second thoughts if we had known what was in store for us when we began the journey to build our cigar store from scratch.