When the World Lands in Your Backyard

We’ve had years to know this was coming, but in typical Small Business Fashion (the kind where we’re usually playing whack-a-mole with fires to put out across our business), it wasn’t until I started hearing phrases like “projected economic impact of $600+ million in regional spending” and “massive road closures and traffic disruptions in and around Seattle” did I really sit up and begin paying attention. The World Cup was coming, time to buckle up.

Being a sports nut who absolutely lives for the stories of humanity and perseverance behind the scenes of athletic excellence, as well as an operationally savvy leader and project manager, I quickly designated myself as Lady Yum’s Official FIFA Coordinator and jumped in. I’m sure many businesses with a presence in Seattle probably had a similarly designated point person, but I felt like we had the Golden Ticket going in - a store in the heart of Pioneer Square, the neighborhood positioned to be the epicenter of the Seattle World Cup.

Some backstory: our Pioneer Square store is in a gorgeous old historic building - the kind with exposed brick walls, crown molding ceilings, a mezzanine and a haunted basement connected to the Seattle Underground. Pioneer Square was once the heart of Seattle and boasts a colorful history dating back to the mid 19th century but now feels a bit... uncomfortable…as a neighborhood. It’s the kind of place I usually don't want to walk alone. Our store there - while so uniquely beautiful and bursting with personality (I mean, there is a disco ball hanging from the ceiling!) struggles to stay afloat, to put it frankly. Many businesses in the area are in the same financial boat. Seattle is a hard place to run a small business, and this neighborhood is one of the most difficult.

And yet here we were, given the opportunity of a lifetime, thrust into the World Cup, ready or not.

And so, when given this “sink or swim” option, I did what any self-respecting Brand Director would do: I shoved my coworkers into the deep end, and… we paddled together. We made some small but very substantial changes. As a business with a famed $7 Special consisting of a macaron and glass of champagne, we aim to be fancy, mischievous and fun at all times (we call ourselves a “bougie concession stand”). But we brought in the King of Beers (yes, Coors Light) as well as a few other options on tap (White Claw too, of course). We brought salty snacks to the table, threw up as many flags as we could, set up a Sidewalk Cafe (shoutout to the City of Seattle for turning around a permit in 24 hours) and blasted throwback hits from our outdoor cart while shouting at passing by fans “We Have Cheap Beer!” We drew on our store windows “Get Your Ass in Here” and “Very Cheap Booze Inside”. “We” consisted of our small but mighty management team. For the first match, we showed up at 4:30am to open our doors by 6am. One day our Kitchen Manager clocked over 100 flights of stairs and 15 miles of steps. The days were already hot - and our beloved “Old Historic Store” is most definitely not air conditioned.

Together we worked hard and hustled mightily. We light railed to Pioneer Square from Bellevue each day, hauling suitcases full of whatever we needed to bring - milk, flags, bins of macarons and anything else we could think of that might move the needle for our little store. We care deeply about our business, and we care deeply about each other. Through exhaustion, bruises and a learning curve (3/4 of us had never worked a shift in our stores), we showed up for each other and emerged bonded tightly.

The Juneteenth match between the USA and Australia had us beating our best ever sales day (for that location) by lunchtime. By the last match - with Team USA playing once again - after a final 17 hours or so on our feet and with sweat dripping down our (custom) Lady Yum jerseys, we packed it up and said goodbye to FIFA in Seattle, deeply exhausted and profoundly grateful for the entire experience.

I can’t get over the fact that 48 Countries played in matches across 16 cities in three countries, and one of those cities was ours, with the stadium located steps from our little store. Our store, in the heart of the pedestrian zone, was indeed in the epicenter of the Seattle World Cup. People liquidated savings and came from all over the world to be a part of what I - we - got paid to participate in. Somehow, due to sheer luck of proximity, we were the lucky ones with the privilege of handing flags out to excited kids, of high-fiving folks from Belgium and hugging Egyptians fans dressed in their painstakingly pressed flags. We welcomed Iranian fans into our store, making certain that all of our guests knew that everyone (regardless of who struck whom that day in the Strait of Hormuz) is welcome at Lady Yum. We developed new macaron flavors for each visiting country and watched as customers marveled that we actually did have a macaron inspired by Qatar called “Doha Lamp Bear.” We drank beer with folks who had come from Bosnia and Herzegovina as refugees from actual genocide in the early 90s. To witness two grandmothers - one from Bosnia and one from Palestine - meet in our store and compare pictures of their grandchildren was a massively profound honor I didn't take lightly. We poured celebratory champagne for anyone old enough to drink it. We met fans who traveled from New York specifically to see our store in person, and met customers who lived in the neighborhood but didn’t know about “the cheapest happy hour in town” right around the corner. We rigged up a projector on the last day so we could all watch Team USA play one last time. We made so many new friends: from the Palestinian/Jordanian catering company who kept us fed (in exchange for use of our facilities; felt like we were on the winning end of that bargain), to security guards, to volunteers that kept coming back. We exchanged pins and hugs and high fives with so, so many people. Real life friends and family stopped by to cheer us on. And every single person, without exception, was full of joy. And truly, although we are not in a field that saves lives or has really any purpose but to sprinkle happiness through cookies, bubbles and beautiful parlors, we felt like we were, somehow, making a difference.

And so, we closed the store on the last night of Seattle’s FIFA with sore feet and sweaty backs, completely drained and eager to get back to “real life.” Cleaning the store afterwards felt like leaving college campus the very last time, knowing I could come back but it would never be the same, but oh-so-grateful for the opportunity to be there.  So, thank you Seattle, for the gift you gave us, and the thousands of people we met along the way.