Being Small

I have been small all my life—from a comically tiny child to a diminutive adult—and I have never felt at a disadvantage (aside from pay: statistics show that an extra inch of height translates to an average of $1,000 more annual income, therefore, someone who is 6 feet tall earns, on average, about $210,000 more during a 30-year career than someone who measures 5 feet 5 inches) and have, instead, enjoyed the advantages. I can fit comfortably into an “economy” airline seat, for example, even if I do occasionally need help reaching the overhead storage.

Another major advantage is that I and my wife (who shares similar dimensions with me) are better able to fit into what passes for living quarters here in Great Britain. You folks in America might be used to seeing palatial country houses on Downton Abby, but floor space is parsimoniously parceling out in Blighty. This, however, works to our advantage, as we have chosen to live in a small, and therefore economical, flat, which accommodates us fairly well.

Yeah, I made all that stuff.

Through imagination, ingenuity, and a fair number of pine boards, we have squeezed all the space out of our 600 square feet that is possible without breaking the laws of physics, or a shared wall. And, having become aware of what newer flats offer, we no longer feel as if we are settling, but now consider ourselves truly blessed at having so much space, despite needing to step into the bathroom to put on a jacket after taking it out of the hall closet, as the hallway isn’t wide enough to accommodate this manoeuvre, even from someone as small as myself.

Black: My old, 1 bedroom, US flat – 744 sq ft
Blue: Our current, 2 bedroom, UK Flat – 600 sq ft
Red: Local, 1 bedroom flat, currently on the market – 371 sq ft

But there is another aspect of my life that, being small, has put me at a decided disadvantage, and that is my business—or, my little cottage industry, if you prefer, or even just me trying to make my latest hobby pay for itself—which is producing hand-made, leather-bound, quality journals.

I introduced this in Branching Out, and have now amassed some inventory and set up a proper on-line shop, but my low-bar has meant that I am unable to take advantage of even the most basic tools of Internet shopping.

The most recommended of these was WooCommerce, which integrated seamlessly with WordPress and—after spending a few days scaling a steep and slippery learning curve—discovered that my humble requirements were well-below their base offering. When they tried to set up a connection to the IRS for tax purposes, that’s when I knew I was in over my head and pulled the plug. I then had a go at Etsy and attempted the business end of Ebay, but both, alas, expected a lot more out of me that I was able to give.

Don’t think I am blaming them, for I am not; it’s me that is the problem.

Setting out your market stall on the Internet means you are trying to make money—be it to supplement your income or turn it into a full-time job—and, while those applications are good at assisting you toward that end, it is not what I am looking for.

I’m retired, so I have an income for doing sod-all, and I don’t mean to supplement it. All I want is to make my hobby pay for itself, and keep our small flat from filling up with hand-bound books.

To that end, I have reacquainted myself with the individual-seller side of Ebay, figuring I might be able to sell one book at a time, and set up a page where I show my wares and encourage people to either order one, or request a custom-made book, which is what I would really like to do.

Each book is individually made, and therefore ripe for customization, so anyone looking for a unique journal—for themselves or to give as a gift—could do worse that ordering one. Unfortunately, because my ambitions—like my stature and my flat—are small, I have to rely on a DIY ordering/payment system that may seems a little amateurish.

But, when you’re small, you have to put up with some disadvantages.