The NB Crash

On July 1st 2018, I had agreed to go to an event hosted by my distributor. I met them not long before at Speciality & Fine Food Fayre in September 2017. My first (and last) trade show. It cost £500 for an empty space, I was unable to sell anything - the idea is to meet prospective buyers who will give you a return on your money in weeks or years to come - a form of gambling, really - and if you bet on the wrong person (everyone covers their badges, so you never really know who you are talking to. Sometimes I rarely made eye contact, if I caught wind of a ‘big four’ supermarket representative attending, immediately the day transformed from a friendly formal to a game of cat and mouse), there is a high chance you leave worse off than when you arrived, having literally paid for nothing.

Fortunately, I met said distributor. Getting a listing with them meant I got access to an array of farm shops and delis; Revital and As Nature Intended were my most prized pursuit, two of the bigger and more reputable health shop chains in the UK. Naturally I hounded them; I contacted every individual manager (21 sites in total) and slowly got NB stocked in their stores. Then I split my week going between them to provide shoppers with samples - whereas my distributor were responsible for all logistics, I took it upon myself to give NB the best chance of becoming a permanent fixture in store and popular product amongst customers. I also really wanted to support my distributor, my first time working with one, to use their connections and build a solid client base and thus give them reason to keep ordering. Although my want to help increase sales was limited - no distributor I know of, including my current one since 2023, shares the list of their customers with their suppliers (only for a price they do, of course).

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The event in July consisted of a dinner on Saturday night followed by a market on Sunday, to connect with potential new trade customers and then showcase our products respectively. To attend it cost £690 - pretty much covering the evening guests’ dinners and drinks - and I was told 135 key retailers were going. Throw in some free product for the tombola - no brainer, sign me up.

In the run up to the weekend, weeks before, even, every bone in my body was telling me not to go. To skip the dinner part and drive up on Sunday instead; the pressure to network, the idea of staying overnight in Nottingham, alone, made me feel sick. I binge ate nut butter but felt no better; I deliberated until the very last minute: a BBQ with my parents or potentially sitting next to the buyer of Holland & Barrett. The hotel is already booked, the plan is in place - I did not want to waste my money, and what if I miss out on a life-changing opportunity because of my own selfish desire to cancel? No one else could make this decision for me, deep down I knew what I was going to do; when it comes down to ‘should’ versus ‘want’, the former always wins. Of course I went, I had to go, I would have only felt guilty had I not, eating my hot dog and drinking Pimms - and driven myself mad anticipating all the (unlikely) what if? scenarios.

On arrival, luckily I recognised someone I had previously met at a food show, briefly at that. I downed a glass of Prosecco and, like a meet-cute, strode across the room to pounce on her and her colleague. They could not have shaken me if they tried. We drank, we ate, we danced; we made the most of the evening. Trying to ignore the fact that there were no prime retailers on our table let alone there at all. Who would want to spend their Saturday night at a work do? (Oh wait…).

The next morning, waking up in my Premier Inn hotel room, I had a heavy heart and lump in my throat. I tried to be my chatty, energetic self whilst selling the NB dream, but all day I felt sad. Lonely, mostly, looking around other stalls and seeing only me; it is always only ever me. This time doing something I really did not want to - and for what? Another weekend spent in favour of NB; risk without reward; a lot of cash down and I romanticised the idea that something good was going to come out of it. Part of me felt stupid for imagining it would, like I woke up and saw the reality for what it is. Although I had experienced so many failures before, this was the first one that hit, and it felt like a punch to the gut.

By 4pm close I had already packed up to leave and was home before 5pm; as soon as I got out the car I burst into tears. Mum was beside herself, Dad thought I had been in a car accident. My emotions felt raw; I felt completely depleted of energy, defeated by my genuine belief that all the effort and sacrifices I had been making thus far would pay off. Genuinely it surprised me. I was so single minded, so sure NB was going to be a successful brand by now; I had been trying my hardest, or so I thought; I was confused as to why it was not. To realise I could dedicate another three years of my life to something that still might not work in my favour - that scared me. Disheartened me more than anything. My resilience was wearing thin; being this let down - letting myself down - bruised my self-esteem. And without taking a salary, my measure of success, nothing I did - none of my ‘achievements’ - felt validated. Only I am not doing enough to deserve one. This is how I saw it. I created a fantasy and was failing to make it reality. Blaming myself for being here because all choices are my own. To get more I have to do more - and there is always more to be done - I am the only one who can. NB is relying on me, and that left me feeling more alone than I had ever felt.