By Guest Writer, 1-09-07
Enjoy the spring of love and youth
To some good angel leave the rest
For time will teach thee soon the truth
There are no birds in last year's nest
—Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
If you are a Haufbrau regular [the Hofbrau is a well-known wet goods establishment on Babcock Street], or just happen to pass by the corner of Babcock and 8th, you may notice the flashing signs announcing the new home of our Main Office at 103 South 8th.
It may seem like a small thing, and in some ways it is, but it is also a turning point in our ongoing saga: our administrative staff and most upper level management are no longer on Co-op property.
We have moved about ten people down the street to offices that we are leasing. Now working in the new Main Office (or "Mo", as we like to call it) are the departments of Finance, Marketing, Human Resources, Operations, Member Services, and myself.
We packed up and trundled east because, once again, the growth of our organization dictated that we increase office space for about ten other people. Our old offices ("the Clubhouse," as we call our cute little building on the southeast corner of our parking lot) will now be used not only for Co-op meetings and evaluations, but also as workstations and offices for food service, IT workers, merchandisers, various assistant managers and a few department managers.
We now have over 150 employees in ten departments (and four buildings), a payroll of about $2.6 million a year, and over 140 new members each month. Our growth has now slowed to a manageable 12 percent, but this is 12 percent on top of larger and larger numbers each year. So it was no surprise that we had to find office space for folks to process, plan, manage and tweak the myriad of tasks that retail requires. The only surprise is that it comes only four years after our building expansion.
Speaking for myself, moving away from the Co-op that I helped build is actually a weird experience. From my old office I looked out not only on the Bridger Range but also at our great and unique building, and everyone who entered to shop or work. Now I enjoy an unimpeded vista of a local bar where my initials were carved onto a tabletop nearly two decades ago. Time marches to full circle, I suppose.
But I am also embracing the change. I like to consider my new view as a way of looking forward. It's easy to get complacent with what you have done in the past if the only thing you see is where you have been. I know this because, as a kid, my seat in the station wagon on our semi-heroic road trips across the American West was in the far, far back of the Pontiac, looking backward at the road as it fell away.
Watching the world depart all the time not only forces a view of what was, but it also allows events to sneak up unexpectedly. Suddenly it's raining, or there is a town, or we're stopping in a place I haven't seen before, or Dad hit a deer.
I didn't plan on dwelling on what our Co-op was. By moving over to the Mo, I hope to see what we have already built as a new thing, imposing and different, just a one block walk down the street. Changing seats also enables me to lift my sights to what is coming up on the horizon, to find a direction that holds promise, to learn to avoid peril, and just to sniff around for adventure.
So now you know where to find us. And if you are heading to the Hauf for lunch or a beer, be sure to give a little wave.
[End of article]
Watching the co-op grow as one of its loyal members has been an interesting exercise in trying to reconcile my desire for more choice on co-op shelves with my desire to support low-footprint business in a community that has become largely contaminated with Cheap Box. Thank goodness, the Co-Op retains its community feel, which is worth its weight in gold these days in a mountain town where community has been devalued (displaced?) by development. If I can lead my own growing company (a niche magazine) forward in a way that retains community among its membership without selling out the customer experience then I'll be twice as happy and only half as tired as our (extra)community business leaders here. Thanks for being a beacon for us, Kelly.
The Co-Op's been a great success story, growing with the town and in many of the same ways the town has, having much more to offer in food and education and entertainment and embracing change and growth and making it a good thing.
What we've lost in "sense of community" from the days on South Broadway we've certainly gained in other ways. In particular, both the Co-Op and the town have become more economically viable entities. And there doesn't seem to be mouse turds in the brown rice anymore, literally speaking, even if figuratively there's a few making a habit of nay-saying.
Missoula's Good Food Store should take a page from the small town feel of the Bozeman food co-op. As a Missoula resident, and a traveling sales rep I have spent quite a bit of time in both locations in an effort to elude the ease of succumbing to fast food dining while traveling Montana for business purposes. Bozeman food co-op has something that it's non co-op neighbors to the north could use, a positive attitude. I wonder if the concept of a co-op makes the employees feel that they are a part of something community based that does have an impact on the Gallatin Valley. Co-op employees have time and time again exceeded my expectations by treating me with dignity as a shopper and genuinely making me feel welcome at the store. Little things like offering a free lemon with fresh fish, or thanking me for shopping at the co-op despite of my lack of membership have left lasting positive impressions on me and will continue to bring me back to the store. I really wish I could say the same about Missoula's Good Food Store which I find to be insanely over priced, and more of a "scene" for the staff and customers to interact in a courtship of self richeousness.
noodlyappendage wrote: "What we've lost in "sense of community" from the days on South Broadway we've certainly gained in other ways. In particular, both the Co-Op and the town have become more economically viable entities."
Herein lies the misguided assumption that should be challenging all of us - that community, and economic viability, are mutually exclusive. "Economic development" in Bozeman has run amok to the point that it has eroded Bozeman's core community base because the economic development leadership here has placed higher priorities on "growth" rather than "the right types, and pace, of growth".
Welcome to the New West.