Hodges gestured me up to the podium and I plugged in my laptop. Tessa had made me rehearse what cables went where and shown me a few things to try if something wasn’t working. When I had to employ two of them, (because Hodges’s tech was as old as he was), I thanked the ceiling that Tessa was such a Type A.
Over our heads, my slides sprang to life, the words Mike’s Place arching over a picture of Mini M in his party hat.
“Kia ora koutou. Hi to you all. My name is Mike Holliday.” I took a deep breath. “But you already know that. You know everything about me and my childhood, same as I know yours. It’s all stored in this steel trap.” I rapped my finger on my temple. “Sarnia, remember when you were ten and the judge at lamb and calf day at school said that your sheep had the most beautiful wool she’d ever seen on a ewe?”
Sarnia placed a hand over her heart. “I still have the trophy.”
“Hodges, remember when Nettie was six, and she came at you with a fist full of cow shit and told you she wanted to play beauty spa?”
Hodges made a face. “Yeah, she wanted to do face masks.”
“Michael, remember when you nearly died because you couldn’t read a compass? And Jase, remember when Patches chased off that stray that tried to attack you? Martin and Monica, what about that time your cat jumped in the mail truck, then walked for a week to come back home to you?”
Martin’s eyes went glassy. “Tiger.”
“For those of us lucky enough to grow up here in Woodville, being around farm animals and spending time outdoors was a way of life. Studies show”—I changed my slide to some data so they’d know I wasn’t talking out my ass—“when kids interact with animals, they get more compassionate and develop in lots of other ways too. Not every household can have pets, maybe for time or financial reasons, maybe allergies, maybe it’s none of my business. And even in homes with pets, few households have the space or facilities for animals like miniature ponies, chickens, sheep, or curly cows.”
Sarnia frowned. “What are?—?”
I grinned and clicked to the next slide. Her question turned to a coo as she took in the Highland cow with a luscious curly coat.
“Woodville is right on the highway. Hundreds of people drive through here on their way to the big city. Back in the old days, when Hodges was a young man”—I winked to ease the joke and Hodges rolled his eyes, but there was a grin curling his mouth—“people only stopped in Woodville if they needed to take a piss. Thanks to investments this group has made, these days people stop here, they have lunch, they maybe buy an antique or some books. Right, Sarnia?”
Our diminutive bookseller nodded. “Smut with dragons and mobsters are my bestsellers right now.”
I had follow-up questions—together? What did a dragon mafia do?—but I could ask her later. “I want people to stay here longer. I want their kids to get a taste of what it’s like to grow up here. At Mike’s Place, they’ll experience what it’s like to connect with animals, but they’ll learn, too. It won’t just be rides and petting, like I do at parties or fairs. Kids will learn what it takes to look after animals and get a better understanding of their environment. There will be a conservation element as well, because we need to think about how farmers can help with environmental challenges, in particular water quality and predator control.”
My next slide read Mike’s Mission and had a breakdown of my goals and core tactics, plus what we would do better than anyone else. “This is the UTI,” I announced importantly, pointing like Tessa had told me to.
Sarnia snickered. “I think you mean UVP.”
“Huh?”
She spelled it out. “Unique Value Proposition.”
“Whoops, yeah. UVP.”
Jason snickered.
“Carry on, Mike,” Oz piped up, surprising the shit out of me. “We know what you mean.”
I was so stunned it took me a second to remember what came next. Recovering, I talked through the start-up costs, projections, and some of the marketing stuff that Tessa had helped me with.
Finally, I stuffed the hand holding the slide clicker in my pocket, trying to look chill and catch my breath without being obvious. It felt like I’d just run a mile with my mouth.
“Any questions?”
Four hands shot up.
Sarnia asked about competitors, so I told her about the similar businesses I’d seen and the farm-based kindergarten in Auckland and petting zoo in Tawa, both of which were successful. It wasn’t an original idea, but we were in the right place for it to be a hit. When Oz raised his hand, I braced myself, but he just wanted to ask about the pricing model. He nodded at my answer, seemingly satisfied. Hodges started haggling with me over the sum investment I was asking them for and I yielded another 4 percent, which made both of us happy because I was prepared to yield double that.
The question that threw me came from Monica.
“I have to say it, Mike. Don’t you think a man running a petting zoo is weird?”
“No? Why?”
“You know.” Mon also looked around the room, seeming to scout for backup. “There are kids.”
