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THE SODA PARLOR 1.0 - HIGHS & LOWS

THE SODA PARLOR 1.0

The Highs & lows

The journey of The Soda Parlor has been one of constant learning, challenges, and growth. From quitting a stable corporate job to pursue a dream, to managing the chaos of opening weekend with lines out the door, every step brought new lessons. Whether it was navigating the literal highs and lows of a soda loft, pivoting after the Jeni's Ice Cream recall, or defying landlord restrictions to experiment with menu specials, each experience tested resilience and creativity. Events like FAN nights brought the community together, even as logistical hurdles and bruised sternums added to the challenges.

Interactions with local businesses, like hosting press events only to be dismissed by them, underscored the struggle for recognition. Managing employees proved a steep learning curve, with mistakes made along the way, but also a deep desire to uplift and inspire. Ultimately, mounting issues with the Marathon Village location—termites, structural collapses, and a cluttered "museum"—prompted the decision to relocate to East Nashville, setting the stage for the next chapter. Through it all, the Soda Parlor's journey reflects the highs, lows, and unrelenting drive of entrepreneurship.

Ice Cream, Soda, and the Brutal Truth About Entrepreneurship

I remember telling my parents I planned to quit my stable, Corporate America job—the one I was lucky to have, thanks to a bit of nepotism. Fresh out of college with a Fine Arts degree (big whooptie-doo), I quickly learned the American workforce values experience over diplomas. So, there I was, leaving the stability my parents (and society) had insisted I needed. My dad, an entrepreneur himself, warned me: “Everything will depend on you. Everything.” A sobering reminder that chasing a dream means carrying the constant weight of every decision, success, and failure.

But hey, I was my own boss now—a fact that sounded great in theory until I realized I’m a nightmare to work for. Being an entrepreneur feels like riding a motorcycle 24/7 without a helmet, on a hamster wheel, in a government lab with an unhinged weather simulator. You’re dodging everything. All. The. Time. No rest, no stopping, and absolutely no letting go of the gas unless you want to crash—and trust me, the crash hurts.

The reality check hit hard after our grand opening. It was a huge success, but by Monday, it was back to work. No nap, no break, just relentless hustle to recover from months of delays. Oh, and did I mention we launched an ice cream and soda shop... as fall and winter rolled in? Brilliant timing.


Feet & Love on the Walls

And so it began: running The Soda Parlor, seven days a week, twelve hours a day. 


To keep my sanity, I’m going to try a little psychology trick here—acknowledge both the good and the bad. Unfortunately, as humans, the bad tends to linger longer in our memories. And, as the resident black cat to my golden-retriever-energy husband, I have a special talent for dwelling on the negative. Honestly, though, I think that’s part of why we work so well together. There’s a reason the “grumpy/sunshine” dynamic is a trope in fiction—it works. Most of the time.

Fair warning: some of the highs I mention might veer into petty victory territory. To the people who doubted us, well... deal with it. One of the biggest highs was opening weekend. After the long, grueling journey to get the place up and running—navigating setbacks, delays, and a certain self-proclaimed “beverage king” next door who doubted us at every turn—we had a line out the door. Literally. A gosh dang line that stretched out of the building. Our first mic drop moment.

This epic turnout silenced a lot of the doubters, including our neighbors. But, of course, with every high comes a crash landing. The downside of that packed grand opening? People waiting in the hallway apparently thought it was okay to put their feet all over the walls. By Monday morning, I had a visit from the landlord, who kindly informed me that I was responsible for cleaning the hallway walls. Lesson one in entrepreneurship: if you build something, people will (accidentally) destroy it. 

Speaking of walls..one of my absolute favorite parts of opening weekend, though, was the sign wall. Everyone who came through the doors signed that wall, and it became this incredible, tangible reminder of how the fans showed up to support Olan and me. It was a physical representation of the love and excitement that made all the hard work feel worth it.


Stranded in the Soda Loft

Once we were officially open, the first big challenge was tackling storage and organization. With such a small space, I was constantly managing inventory, cramming things into every nook and cranny of that back room. Somehow, we made it work.

One of our many storage solutions was "The Soda Loft,"  A ten-foot dorm room-style platform in our back room only accessible by ladder.  Honestly, the soda loft is one of the things Jake (our friend & first employee) and I reminisce about the most. And by "reminisce," I mean shake our heads at how absurdly dangerous it was. Oh my gosh, that thing was a death trap. We would literally haul full cases of soda (24 full glass bottles) up and down a ladder. I know for a fact Jake fell off it at least once.

One night, I was closing the shop alone and went up to the soda loft to grab a case. Somehow, something fell off the loft, hit the ladder just right, and knocked it completely out of reach. There I was, stranded on top of a ten-foot-tall loft late at night, with no one around. After an extended moment of mild panic and internal pep talks, I finally built up the courage to lower my legs off the edge, hang there like some soda-slinging acrobat (dramatic? Maybe), and then just let go—praying I wouldn’t break an ankle when I hit the ground. Spoiler alert: I didn’t. But wow, what a moment to laugh about now.


The Ice Cream Crisis of 2015

When The Soda Parlor first opened, our ice cream provider was Jeni’s Ice Cream. Honestly, I still think this was one of our better business moves. Partnering with such a popular and high-quality brand gave us instant credibility and allowed us to serve top-notch ice cream. Win/win. The downside? Jeni’s was pretty new to the wholesale game at the time, and they only sold their ice cream in half-gallon plastic buckets and….it was not cheap.

Now, these buckets were nice and reusable—yay for the environment! But they were a nightmare too scoop out of. The rims on those things were sharp. Holy smokes, we had to keep a steady supply of Band-Aids on hand. People always talk about “blood, sweat, and tears” in small business, but for us, the “blood” part was literal. Our knuckles were getting sliced open by our own ice cream containers daily.

Then, in the spring of 2015, just as we were gearing up for our first summer rush, disaster struck. Jeni’s Ice Cream issued a full recall of all their products due to a listeria outbreak. Talk about a wrench in the gears. Not only was I panicked that we might have unknowingly sold contaminated products, but we also had to toss thousands of dollars' worth of ice cream. Thankfully, we were reimbursed, but Jeni’s was effectively out of commission for the foreseeable future. To this day, I admire how they handled that crisis. They bounced back from unspeakable odds and rebuilt their brand. But in the moment, their recall left us scrambling for a replacement. 

It was a curveball I hadn’t seen coming, and I had no choice but to pivot—fast. That pivot turned out to be a blessing in disguise, not just for our bottom line but for my battered knuckles. We found a local ice cream maker who elevated our menu to a whole new level. Enter: Mike’s Ice Cream. I don’t know what Mike puts in his ice cream, but chef’s kiss it is SO. FREAKING. GOOD! There’s just nothing like the freshness of ice cream made and frozen each week—something Jeni’s simply couldn’t achieve with their operations all the way in Ohio.



Floats, Feuds, and Finding Our Groove

Our menu started as simple as it gets: The Master Commander—root beer and vanilla ice cream. Freaking Fosters—orange cream soda and vanilla ice cream. The Starscream—Mexican cola and vanilla ice cream. Each topped with whipped cream, sugar sprinkles, and served in a mason jar or branded reusable to-go cup with a red and white paper straw (because, you know, save the sea turtles). We also sold individual bottles of soda, and customers could build their own four-packs.

One thing I mentioned in my previous blog post was the... let’s call it “divisive culture” amongst our restaurant neighbors in Marathon Village. Now, per the bullying of our landlord and the "Beverage King" aka the coffee shop owner, we were technically supposed to stick to the items we launched with—no mixing soda flavors, no experimenting with new combos. But after sourcing our new ice cream vendor with more flavor options and after giving our lease another careful read, we decided, “To hell with that nonsense.” We started having fun and making specials. I dared anyone to say something. No one did because they had zero grounds and they knew it.

My personal favorite was made with Maine Root’s blueberry soda paired with Mike’s Ice Cream blueberry cheesecake flavor. HOLY SMOKES! Then there was the Battle Bear float: Moose Tracks ice cream with cream soda. YOU GUYS. This was where I earned my “Entrepreneur 15.” Hahaha! But seriously. I actually developed lactose intolerance by the end of 2015.


The Fridge That Almost Got Us



The merchandise at The Soda Parlor initially consisted mostly of items we were selling for Olan Rogers Supply (aka Star Cadet). Then, in 2015, after a successful summer at The Soda Parlor and proving to our business partner that Nashville was the place to be, the print shop relocated to Nashville. With the whole team finally together, my journey into working with the clothing side of the business began.

At first, I was simply pulling from the existing merchandise that Olan and our partner were creating. But once the shop was open and running, my designer instincts needed an outlet. That’s when my merchandising skills kicked into gear. Not only were we constantly fluffing and rearranging the products, but I also started expanding the assortment. I introduced the team to the world of wholesale products, and soon we were collaborating with other brands to bring their items into the shop.  A skill set that grew to where I am today managing not only the Star Cadet brand but our clients brands as well.

One of my favorite displays in the shop was our vintage red fridge. Sometimes, we’d fill it with beverages, but other times, we’d stuff it with beanies and slap a sign on the front that said “Cool Beans.” To this day, it still makes me giggle.

That fridge, though... it was a whole experience. First off, no one—no one—knew how to properly close a vintage fridge. It’s simple: you just slam it like a car door. Instead, walk-in customers would often leave it slightly ajar or try to gently close it like it was not something that survived the atomic age.  Then every Sunday, we’d have to unload the fridge and defrost the giant block of ice that formed at the top. Cool in theory, but there’s a reason we didn’t bring it to the second Soda Parlor.

Another fond memory of that fridge came later, after we’d moved out of the space and relocated it to our basement for Jake to use while renting the place. One day, Jake opened the fridge barefoot—and it zapped him. That’s when we discovered the fridge wasn’t electrically grounded. Y’all, dead serious: this fridge sat in the parlor, running for TWO YEARS, just waiting to electrocute someone. Apparently, no one had ever opened it without shoes on. OOPS!

Throwing Events, Breaking Rules, and Building Community


One of the things we absolutely loved doing at The Soda Parlor was throwing events. Mind you, our official occupancy for the space was about 70 people. But we had an outdoor courtyard, which allowed us to live comfortably in the grey area. Was it safe to cram 300 people into that courtyard? Absolutely not. Did we do it anyway because we were reckless 20-something entrepreneurs? Oh, you bet we did.

The biggest events were our Fan Appreciation Nights—aka “FANs” (see what we did there?). These nights were absolutely wild. We’d give away vanilla-based floats for free, and chaos would ensue. No matter how much extra freezer space we cobbled together, we always sold out of ice cream. Looking back, I realize that was totally fine, but at the time, my perfectionist self saw it as a failure. Little did I know, those nights would end up being some of our biggest sales nights.

It was such a great lesson in giving back to your supporters and seeing them return the love tenfold. FANs were a celebration of community and joy—and an unintentional test of endurance. One time, I scooped so much ice cream in one night that I actually bruised my sternum. Talk about dedication to the craft.

Our biggest event by far was Summer Nights, a month-long extravaganza we hosted in June 2015. The event featured meet-and-greets with Olan, appearances by other YouTubers like Michelle Davis and Mike Falzone, and even outdoor movie screenings in a park. On paper, it was a dream lineup, but in practice, it didn’t quite meet our expectations.

Up until then, we were used to massive turnouts at every event. But Summer Nights was more of a slow burn. The problem? We learned that packing an event into a short window created urgency, which drove attendance. Giving people an entire month to participate spread everything out. While it didn’t deliver the crowds we were used to, it was a huge undertaking, and we walked away with valuable lessons about event planning and audience behavior.

Then there were the smaller, local “Non-Olan” events we hosted, which hold a special place in my heart. One of my favorites was partnering with Sofar Sound, a company that puts on secret concerts in unique spaces. One of my favorite musicians even performed at the parlor, Axel Flovent. Of course, there was one little downside to hosting concerts at The Soda Parlor: we were right next to the train tracks. So, naturally, as a musician poured their soul into a song, a train would roll by, blaring its horn like the world's loudest heckler. I think that eventually knocked us out of Sofar Sound’s preferred venue list, but I didn’t mind. Hosting those concerts made me feel like I was truly part of Music City, train interruptions and all.



When Recognition Comes Too Late


Occasionally, we’d host private events at The Soda Parlor. One of our upstairs neighbors was Native Magazine, a local, ultra-hipster publication that spotlighted cool independent people in the city doing unique things.  I was a huge fan of their work.  When they approached us about hosting one of their release parties, I saw it as a chance to maybe get our foot in the door for some local press, do the networking thang. So, of course, I agreed for basically nothing.

We ended up hosting their events multiple times. And not to sound full of myself—or like an overly proud wife—but Olan, our team, and I were doing some seriously cool, independent stuff. Yet, despite that, Native Magazine never showed the slightest interest in featuring us. After about a year of working with them developing a more casual rapport, I finally decided to ask, “So, why have you never wanted to do a story on us?”

Their response floored me. They said, “We only like to highlight businesses that are bringing industry to the city, and since Olan is on YouTube, he’s too outside the industry for us.” I was stunned. A local magazine dedicated to spotlighting independent Nashvillians snubbed us because we didn’t fit their narrow definition of what was “industry.” Needless to say, they found a new venue for their launch parties after that.

Fast forward to 2016, right when Final Space was about to air on national television. By then, the Soda Parlor had been open for two full years, and we’d relocated and expanded—successfully, might I add. You’d think THAT alone would warrant some recognition, even without Olan creating and selling a whole TV show on top of it. Then, out of nowhere, Native Magazine reached out wanting to do a story on us. Oh, now you’re interested? Sliding into our DMs the moment the rest of the world started singing our praises? I told them plainly: either do a full cover story or don’t bother. They responded by saying they have a policy of never promising full cover stories. So, I told them, “Well, the ship has sailed on us working together, then.”

For me, this was one of those moments where the hard work felt invisible within my own community—especially when compared to other local businesses that were regularly celebrated. Don’t get me wrong—I didn’t feel entitled to press, truly. But after working closely with Native and being dismissed simply because we had a YouTube element to our setup, it stung. The actual achievement of opening and running a successful business somehow didn’t seem like enough. What made it even more frustrating was that the very thing they once dismissed us for became the exact reason they suddenly found us worthy.


Mopping Floors and Management Mistakes

This next part is probably the hardest for me to talk about because it’s where I feel I failed the most in my early entrepreneurial days: managing people. For the most part, it was just me, our friend Jake Sidwell, and one - three employees—a very small team at the time. But even with a small staff, the stress was intense. On any given day, I was juggling inventory, scheduling, organizing, cleaning, and, oh yeah, serving customers. When I was doing all that while also making floats, I naturally developed a pretty high standard for how I expected others to work.

To this day, I don’t think having high standards is a bad thing. However, expecting people to care as much as you—the slightly insane entrepreneur—is just setting yourself up for disappointment. It’s a hard pill to swallow, but no one will ever be as invested in your dream as you are. There are some exceptions but generally I have found this to be the case.  Also, can we talk about how shocking it is that so many parents never teach their kids how to mop? Why is this being left to their first job? I’m not a parent, but I feel like basic mopping skills should be part of the “launching a functional human” package.

Another challenge was that I wasn’t much older—or sometimes the same age—as most of our employees. This blurred the lines between being friends and being their boss. It took me years, well into my mid-thirties, to really understand how to separate the two. Looking back, I genuinely believe everyone who worked with us or for us did the best they could. I only hope that in my stress-induced moments of holding someone accountable or giving feedback, no lasting harm was done.

I’ve always envisioned creating a workplace that supports and inspires creatives—a place where, even if the job isn’t their ultimate dream, they still feel empowered to pursue their passions. Need time off to work on your own project? Done. I wanted to be the employer I never had—one who didn’t live in some weird fictional world where people were expected to scoop ice cream forever. But with the flexibility I offered came a simple expectation: if you were on the clock, you were fully present and ready to work. That said, those perks can easily get overshadowed when you’re still stuck mopping the floors. And oh my gosh, why is Rachel so particular about mopping floors? (Spoiler alert: because someone has to be.)

I’m far from perfect and am always learning better ways to work with people. But those first couple of years were rough. I didn’t always stick to the landing. I wasn’t always level-headed. And here’s the thing modern culture often overlooks: people have to make mistakes, feel awful about them, and then learn from them. Growth isn’t pretty, but that is okay. My intention has always been for us to rise together. At the end of the day, yeah, I sucked at being a boss sometimes—but I had to suck at it to get better. I had to learn what mattered to me and how people could support me so I could be a better leader. And seriously, parents: teach your kids how to mop.



The Heart of The Soda Parlor: Magic in the Everyday

The day-to-day at The Soda Parlor was some of the most fulfilling time in my life. On those rare days when nothing went horribly awry, the shop was pure magic. Bon Iver would play softly on the speakers, regular customers would camp out with their laptops, and the space felt alive with creativity and connection. Some of my lifelong friendships began there, forged over conversations about music, photography, and the struggles of being a creative in a world designed to wear you down. 

 The Soda Parlor in fall and winter was my favorite—calmer, cozier, and full of regulars like Sam, who always ordered her cream soda float with the ice cream and soda separated. Summers, on the other hand, were wild and tourist-heavy, thanks to our neighbor Antique Archeology. While the slower seasons could be stressful financially, they were also when our regulars showed up the most, reminding me that at its core, The Soda Parlor was a place to build community. That little shop will always have a special place in my heart because, on any given day, it felt like hanging out in your living room with friends—a simple, beautiful refuge.


The Final Straws at Marathon Village



As we approached the two-year anniversary of The Soda Parlor, we faced a big question: do we want to renew our lease? After that summer, our patience with the landlord was wearing dangerously thin.

First, the building was swarmed by termites, and we discovered that the landlord had never treated the hundred-year-old wood-beam structure. Oh, and termite larvae were literally coming out of the walls. There was an incident with a rat the size of my cat, that I will provide no further details on.  Then, one night, part of the building collapsed—onto our neighbors which was a tattoo parlor. Side note: those tattoo artists were some of the best neighbors we had. They were always down for me to get an impulse tattoo  Shout out to Safe House Tattoo!

But the final straw came when the landlord began cluttering the hallway with old Marathon Motor Works machine equipment for his “museum.”  One gem of his collection? A rusty table saw, placed right by our front door, with the blade exposed. That one pretty much sealed the deal for us.

We also knew we needed more space. The fire marshal was bound to eventually notice our increasingly packed events, and our tiny shop just wasn’t cutting it anymore. We tried talking to the landlord about expanding into a nearby space he’d previously mentioned. But, of course, it was occupied—by none other than our favorite nemesis, the Beverage King. Even if some miracle occurred and he gave up his month-to-month lease, we knew it would mean another build-out-from-hell experience in a building that was structurally unsound for, well, a million reasons.

So, we began looking for a new location, turning our sights to our favorite side of town: East Nashville. It’s where we lived, and it’s where the print shop was based, so it felt like the perfect fit.


Thank you so much for reading this blog post—I hope you enjoyed it! In the next Soda Parlor blog, I’ll share the story of our relocation and expansion journey to East Nashville.

You will be okay.  It's inevitable. 

- Rachel Rogers


8 comments on THE SODA PARLOR 1.0 - HIGHS & LOWS
  • Marie
    MarieJanuary 10, 2025

    My girlfriends and I stopped in (at my insistence) on our way to a Smoky Mountain NP vacation in Dec 2015. I nervously whisper-asked at the counter if Olan was in, and he then came out of the back to take a picture with me, and it absolutely made my year.
    Your staff was so sweet, and the space was so incredible and cool, that my friends ended up wanting to stay until close and even bought Star Cadet merch.
    Knowing the backstory and insanely hard work that went into this place now makes that memory even sweeter and more precious.
    Thank you for doing this series! And for the efforts behind Star Cadet, and all you and Olan have done. Huge fan <3 Looking forward to the rest of the story!

  • Brandon
    Brandon January 10, 2025

    Mopping is important and I have also learned young people don’t know how to sweep.

    I loved coming to both locations my friend and I fell in love with Olans humor so of course we wanted to support but the product was good. I even stood in line to meet Olan near the opening and someone gave us pizza while we waited. I think I got to write my name on the wall. I remember it was pretty full when I got to it.

    It was also cool to have Jake serve us in the beginning. He was great at bantering.

  • Lyndsay
    LyndsayJanuary 07, 2025

    I am LOVING these nostalgia posts about the OG Soda Parlor! Thank you for taking us on this journey down Memory Lane, despite the affect it may have on you to bring up these past hardships and trauma. You and your team really went through it! But you came out on the other side with a wealth of knowledge and experience that makes you wiser and more resilient. Growth is not easy or pretty in any sense. It’s messy and complicated and full of mistakes and self doubt, which you highlight with well deserved compassion for your past self.

    I had the honor of attending the opening at Marathon Village. My boyfriend and I impulsively planned a road trip and, 72 hours later, we drove from Pittsburgh to Nashville just for the event. It was surreal and the energy was astounding and reading these posts have imbued a deep, warm sense of remembrance for simpler times. Sadly, I was unable to make it back down to Nashville before or after the Soda Parlor moved. I was devastated to hear of its untimely demise. Reading your posts allows me to briefly step back in time to that one amazing, spontaneous, exciting adventure and all of the good memories I have of that time ❤️

  • Alec
    AlecJanuary 07, 2025

    I have been so enjoying reading about this journey! Entrepreneurship has always been a pipedream for me – whether anything comes of it or not – so it has been awesome to be able to read about your first hand experience, the good, the bad, and the rat ugly included. I am so incredibly bummed that I wasn’t old enough to visit Nashville and the Soda Parlor before it came to its untimely end. Olan has been a favorite of mine for a long time, and floats just so happen to be one of my favorite desserts. It sounds like it truly was glorious in its prime! Excited to catch the next chapter!

  • Melinda
    MelindaJanuary 06, 2025

    You and Olan have so much in common writing-wise. Riveting, from start to finish! Are you sure you don’t want to say more about the cat-sized rat? Or the termite larvae? Gracious! You went through it! Looking forward to the next installment.

    And girl, I feel you on the mopping thing. My family has run a small residential cleaning business for 40 years and it’s remarkable the things homeowners and their children don’t understand about cleaning. One kid made it all the way to college age and didn’t know vacuums have BAGS that need replacing. Growing up, his home had a central vac system where debris got sucked into a set of tubes in the wall so when he had his first vacuum at college, he thought the dirt must travel through the power cord into the wall! Finally called us to ask what was wrong with his vacuum. Teach you children, people!

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