“Hello!” My dad said, rolling down his window. “Clearly!” I said, smiling hard enough to crack teeth. I directed them to a parking space, and then I scampered inside for impromptu damage control. It wasn’t going to be too bad, I thought, grabbing the TV remote and turning off the video slideshow of various adult entertainers demonstrating the practical applications of silicone hardware. I mean, it was definitely an R-rated environment, but my dad and I binged Ozark together and survived the experience, so as long as they didn’t venture into the room that customers had taken to calling “The Garden of Earthly Delights,” everything would be fine. “You don’t have enough signage out front,” he said. And are you just selling leather pants, or are you marketing them? Because there’s a difference.” “Do customers know you’re open? Are you getting walk-in traffic from the all the bars in this area? People spend more money when they’ve been drinking - make sure the bars know you’re here.
