The Long Story of Tabletop Elixirs

When the Résumés Go Quiet, Build a Trailer

After the Hurricane Helene layoffs at The Biltmore Company, I did what
most professionals do. I updated my résumé.

I polished my LinkedIn.
I applied.
A lot.
Silence.

Not polite rejection. Not “we went with another candidate.” Just the digital
equivalent of shouting into a canyon and waiting for an echo that never
comes.

In a tourism-dependent area like Asheville, when the economy stumbles, it
doesn’t whisper. It erases entire job categories.

At first, I wasn’t worried. I’ve never struggled to find work. Historically, my
bigger problem was turning offers down.

This time was different.

After months of applications and job descriptions asking for a unicorn at a pony salary, I started feeling like a ship without a rudder. No direction. Just drifting further out to sea, hoping the “drowning phase” didn’t arrive.

That’s when we decided to build something.

________________________________________

The $500 Trailer Fantasy (And the Rust Reality)

I half-jokingly suggested to my wife to buy a $500 popup camper and gutting it into a craft trailer. My wife and I discussed it extensively and she agreed – it was a good idea!

Turns out, $500 trailers are either:

• Fictional

• Structurally compromised

• Or “needs minor work,” which apparently means “bring welding equipment and optimism.”

We looked at horse trailers. Same story. More money. More rust. More regret.

For months I analyzed listings like a structural engineer — zooming in on frames, checking for floor rot, scanning weld lines. You start seeing corrosion in your sleep, and tetanus in 4k.

Eventually, we landed on a brand new 7’ x 12’ double axle cargo trailer.

Seven thousand dollars.

For an empty metal box.

No plumbing. No power. No finishes. No charm.

Just potential — and a lot of sweat equity waiting to happen.

________________________________________

Three Months of Building Something Real

At 53, I knew this wasn’t going to be graceful. I’m not as spry as I once was. But I still had the determination. My wife would help as much as she could.

So we began building.

Three months of:

• Installing wall coverings to create a clean, flat paintable surface

• Installing cabinetry (Thanks Dave!)

• Painting the interior black

• Making a flat base ceiling to attach tin-style ceiling tiles overhead (our arms STILL hurt!)

• Designing and installing marble-look countertops

• Wiring generator connectivity

• Installing plumbing (technically that came later after the VEVOR and 5 gallon jug proof of concept)

• Placing a rough-cut natural edge black walnut slab into place as the customer counter

There’s something grounding about working with your hands when your professional life feels unstable. Paint either covers well or it doesn’t. A pipe either leaks or it doesn’t. There’s no corporate ambiguity in a crooked panel.

________________________________________

Craft Shows vs. Dirty Sodas

My wife initially leaned heavily toward craft shows. We’re creative people. We’d previously launched a successful Etsy store based on an upgraded sticker kit for a board game we kickstarted called Castles of Burgundy, and it did well right out of the gate.

But inventory-heavy events made my stomach tighten.

Inventory means:

• Capital tied up

• Unsold product risk

• Storage challenges

• Guesswork on demand

Dirty sodas felt different.

• Shelf-stable ingredients

• High margins

• Fast production

• Lower spoilage

• Easier scalability

Lemonade joined the lineup because soda alone felt narrow.
But dirty sodas became the anchor.

________________________________________

The Water Setup (Humble Beginnings)

Our current water setup is straightforward:

A 5-gallon drinking water bottle paired with a small Vevor pump feeding a dispenser.

Simple. Functional. Proof of concept.

For larger events, we’re moving to:

• A 33-gallon fresh water tank

• Additional 5-gallon reserve bottles

Total capacity: 50 gallons of bottled water. My wife doesn't want tap water - "WE'RE QUALITY!"

And because we don’t require hookups for power or water, we can position ourselves in prime vendor spots. Flexibility buys opportunity.

________________________________________

The Used Soda Machine Horror Scroll

Before buying our current fountain system, I went hunting for used equipment.

If you’ve never browsed restaurant liquidation listings, imagine scrolling through machines that look like they’ve seen three bankruptcies and one small grease fire. I imagined the machines pitifully saying “We’ve seen things!” many, many times.

Missing panels. Faded plastic. “Works great!” in the description — which is never reassuring.

At first you think you’re saving $800.

Then you factor in:

• Cleaning time

• Replacement parts

• Missing equipment

• Downtime risk

• The mystery stain factor (there’s that “We’ve seen things” mantra)

We chose a professionally refurbished five-flavor soda fountain for $2,300 instead. This simplified our water solution in with one of the “flavor spouts” allowing us to feed drinking water through a dispenser, hopefully increasing our speed with Lemonades. On top of that it allowed one spout to have a side feeder button that allows for straight carbonated water. This opened up another option to offer guests – Italian Sodas! It’s a lighter, less sugary option with natural fruit flavors.

It wasn’t the cheapest path. It was definitely the smarter one.

And that purchase shifted the mindset from “let’s try this” to “let’s build a system.”

________________________________________

The First Event (And the Sugar Lesson)

Our first popup? It was at a local community sports center. Kids soccer teams were having a tournament. I was excruciatingly nervous.

My wife steadied me.

We met someone (Thanks Brent!), talked about the theme and the drinks and board games. He booked us for a corporate event later on in the month — complete with laminated drink tickets for his 20–30 employees. Unfortunately, my wife was working her real job that day so I had to man this one 100% solo. I was terrified yet excited at the same time.

I forgot the sugar ratio! The first two lemonades weren’t drinks. They were hummingbird fuel. Consider it a live beta test with immediate feedback.

________________________________________

The Panic That Turned into Planning

Then winter hit. We paused.

During that downtime, my wife booked 15 events for the next season — some with 15,000+ attendees.

Excitement turned into operational math.

How many drinks?

How many supplies?

Can we sustain 100–150 drinks per hour?

Where’s the bottleneck?

How much water do we realistically consume?

Instead of drifting, I was modeling.

Conversion rates.

Throughput.

Workflow.

Capacity.

That’s when I realized something important.

________________________________________

The Website and the Return of Direction

We had no marketing!

We decided we needed a website!

I used to build them years ago. Joomla. WordPress. Back when things felt more manual and less “drag-and-drop magic.”

Opening those platforms again after a decade away? I felt lost. Completely out of rhythm.

But as I began sketching layouts and structuring pages, something shifted.

I noticed I was no longer that ship without a rudder.

I had direction again.

A goal I could attack.

A system I could design.

Something measurable and conquerable.

As tabletopelixirs.com came together, so did my sense of purpose.

This wasn’t about waiting on callbacks anymore.

It was about building something I was proud of, and feeling my place in this world wasn't so far removed.

________________________________________

50 Days Out

We’re now roughly 50 days from our first major event of the season. (Greening Up the Mountain!)

We’ll have:

• Three people working (if my son agrees to the meager wage hahaha)

• Structured POS flow with printed recipes

• Sticker-based labeling

• A refined drink assembly process

• A professional soda system

• 50 gallons of water on board

For the first time in a long time, I don’t feel like I’m drifting.

I feel like I’m steering.

And yes — I’m still nervous.

But now it feels like momentum.