I’m working in the lot outside a local pretzel factory today. Twisted, I am not. A bit salty, my attitude always. This local business is a world-wide distributor of “bretzels” … a fine alliteration – if you will – of a sodium laden snack and German baked pastry tied up in a knot. Generations have enjoyed these crunchy delectable treats from Western Pa. It’s still a family owned business proudly run by the progeny of an entrepreneur with a vision back in 1911 … Adolph Benzel.

One-hundred and twelve years later. That a lot of bretzeling. Of course, they’ve expanded the business to include other products, however, the cornerstone has always been a red pouch of Benzel’s Bretzels. Aisle admit, it’d be difficult to meander down any grocery sidecar-snack lane or, for that matter, notice a conveniece store eye-grabbing, impulse-craving shelve crammed with crackling, baked goods … and NOT see that red bag.

The Benzel Bakery is a huge success … no argument here. My business would need an additional ninety-three years to match five score plus twelve years … and these dawg bones don’t have a Guinness Book of World Records time left to live that long. Honestly, I wouldn’t want the headaches passed on through lineage I don’t have, anyway.

As I look over my steaming, post grilled dawgs today – waiting for packers and bakers to arrive – I marvel at the tenacity of generational businesses. How did they make it through all the personality differences, specifically? I have challenges with my own mental ups and downs inside Sam’s Club picking out vegetables. Ask me to look a week ahead in my schedule and I’m liable to blow a piston thinking it through. Granted, I do get my stuff done … and done kinda well. Scale up my life even two notches and there’d neither be a calendar capable of handling the load, nor enough time to squeeze minutes from this already full bag of obligations.

I have no family to shoulder the load going forward … and this is perfectly OK. Which, kinda, answers my question. I talk to the owner of the Bretzel factory frequently. He is engaged with his family. They are engaged with him. Everyone within that familial structure – past and present – has invested sweat equity (to write an overused cliche) into the business. They’ve given their all. Passionate and dedicated they are … and have been.

This commitment never guarantees success, of course. Adolph probably didn’t know the carbs and salt would, eventually, end up in millions of homes and businesses world-wide contributing crackling delight. He was a visionary … and this forward motion remains in the belts pushing through the ovens now. That – along with standing on the shoulders of failures and successes of their ancestors, side by side – propels the bretzel-pretzel pedigree.

All this to say I am glad this little cart of mine is a one man, nineteen years operation.

A van, some coolers, … and a tag-along grill that’s been as much a part of my family as Adolph’s kin has been to him.

I’m dedicated to it. We’ve see each other through snow, wind, horrible rain storms, 105-degree heat with high humidity, busted events, terrific sales days, broken sinks, busted wheels, gas lines needing repair … on and on. Never once has one given up on the other.

I feel as if we are just as big as Benzel’s. It’s a mindset. A family of two. A partnership. A commitment, of sorts.

The final invoice turned in, I’ve done a good days work here. The profit will be counted along with hundreds of other ledger entries over the past 19 years. Add a few hundred more dawgs to the total sold since 2005.

I don’t know if Adolph would be proud of me. I’m not looking for validation from his ancestor who owns the business now, either. Frankly, a check in about a week will suffice.

Small and large businesses alike. This is why I love what I do. Just down the road are the corporate offices of Sheetz – another massively successful local story. Family run. Family dedicated.

My small family of, well, two gives me insight into multi-million dollar ventures that expand the world.

I love it.

Working outside a pretzel factory reminds me of these special connections.

Time to clean up, slip into something comfortable and plunge my hand into a red bag of twisted treats.