2016: The Year of Hustle, Homeownership, and a Proposal...& a TV SHOW?

I had to take some time before writing about The Soda Parlor 2.0 because, unlike the first location, these memories still feel raw. Maybe it’s because the first shop closed on our terms, while the second was ripped away by a tornado on March 4, 2020. Writing about this has been cathartic, and I truly appreciate everyone who’s taken the time to read these stories.

When I sat down with my mentor, friend, and architect, Paul Boulifard, to begin the build-out of The Soda Parlor’s second location, I found myself reliving the trauma of the first. Reigniting that original, naïve optimism felt impossible—but with Paul’s guidance and Olan's endless optimism, I pushed through. This is where I emphasize to young creatives just how valuable a mentor can be. Sometimes, the hardest part isn’t getting started—it’s finding the courage to start again.

The search for our new location began like the first—only this time, I was determined to avoid past mistakes. In 2016, I made my first real estate investment: a duplex-turned-Airbnb, which not only helped supplement my income but also introduced me to Nashville’s real estate world. Through those connections, I discovered commercial real estate brokers—a game-changer in finding the next home for The Soda Parlor.

Oh, and around this time, Olan and I got engaged! 🎉

Now, I’m skipping over a key moment in the Olan Rogers Extended Universe. While I was deep in the build-out, he got a life-changing phone call—in the Inglewood Kroger parking lot, naturally. On the other end? Team Coco, aka Conan O’Brien’s studio. They had discovered his animated short Final Space and wanted to help him pitch it in Hollywood. My response? “Well, you gotta go.”

So, Olan went to LA, and by the time we were wrapping up The Soda Parlor 2.0, he had sold Final Space to TBS. That kicked off a new chapter of my life—constantly flying between LA and Nashville to see my fiancé, because, let’s be real, it was easier for me to juggle locations than it was for a first-time showrunner navigating an industry specifically designed to break people.

The Fine Print: How to Get Legally Shaken Down

So, we found the location, and the Property Titans™ approved us as a future tenant. We had lawyers and brokers negotiating the lease. We even had to restructure our business entity because, when you sign a lease with someone like the Property Titans™, they like to throw in fun little surprises—like profit sharing. Yep, monthly, we were required to send them our revenue reports, and if we hit a certain number, they’d get a percentage. In hindsight, I wish our lawyer and broker had pushed back on this. My biggest mistake was trusting that they would actually explain things like this in plain English. The lesson here? Yes, lawyer up, but also somehow earn a law degree because, apparently, the only way to truly protect yourself is to just know everything. Which is impossible—but at the very least, having a general understanding and asking a ton of questions is crucial when something doesn’t make sense.

And speaking of things I didn’t know to look out for, let’s talk about "uncapped" CAM charges—aka Common Area Maintenance fees. You want these capped. DO NOT SIGN A LEASE WITHOUT THIS CAPPED. Because the  Property Titans™ do not vet the people they hire for communal maintenance projects, nor do they care how much these projects cost—because they just pass the bill straight to you. Case in point: at one point during our lease, they decided to install security cameras in our parking lot. Great, thanks. But also—surprise!—my CAM charge that month included an extra $4,000 I had zero warning about. The cost was split between four tenants, meaning the total project ran them about $16,000. I told them I would have just stood outside with a knife every night for $16,000 all they had to do was ask.

This was one of those moments where I realized I was clearly in the wrong business. But the real punch to the gut? Our parking lot was owned and operated by a private parking company—who, despite profiting off every single person who parked to visit our shop, contributed absolutely nothing toward the cost.  More on what we will legally refer to as the Parking Mafia™ in a minute…

Designing on a Budget: Big Space, Small Wallet

Let’s talk about design aesthetics, budget constraints, and the ultimate vision I had for The Soda Parlor.

First up: space planning, construction documents, and permitting. This is where I had a realization—maybe I actually like smaller spaces. Fewer choices, more restrictions, fewer ways for things to spiral into chaos. This new space, however? A giant white box. Terrifying. The possibilities were endless… but also, not really, because our budget wasn’t much bigger than it was for the original location. The difference? Now we had way more space to fill—plus a concrete floor to pour. A first for me.

Our landlord delivered the space as a "white box", which is commercial real estate speak for “Here’s an empty shell, good luck.” No built-in budget for renovations. No pre-arranged contractor work. We had to hire the general contractors, subcontractors, and handle the build-out ourselves.

Luckily, I knew my dad would be handling all the general casework—cabinets, merchandise displays, all the good stuff. I had my plumber from the first build-out on board, and I planned to work with the same general contractor from the last time. Back then, the landlord handled most of the heavy lifting, so the GC really only did framing and drywall. But this time, his job got a lot bigger.

Now, he was in charge of: 

✔ Installing rebar in the concrete floors after plumbing was roughed in 

✔ Pouring the floor 

✔ Framing the walls and stairs 

✔ Drywall 

✔ Hiring the electrician 

✔ And most importantly, making sure we didn’t accidentally violate building codes and calling in inspectors.

Pulling the building permit was slightly more streamlined this time around. Chuck, thankfully, was not buried in his Cheetos this time. The Water Department, on the other hand, was still doing what they do best—rounding their fee up to the next thousand dollars. Which, emotionally, I was prepared for this time. Still didn’t make it any less annoying. 

 Once again, I was reminded: I am clearly in the wrong business.

Lights, Loft, and a Pain-in-the-Butt Wall

One of the most exciting parts about this new space was having more room for seating. I kept our original pine table but added custom-built benches and round tables to complement the new bar tops. But my favorite design element—one that I still feel was never fully realized—was the loft. Early on, I realized the ceilings in this place were TALL. Like, absurdly tall. So tall, in fact, that we had enough room to build a loft space above the back room. But here’s the catch: it had to be built to the exact half-inch—not a quarter-inch taller. What did that mean? It meant that the subfloor had to double as the actual floor. Luckily, that fit right in with our budget-friendly (read: plywood-everywhere) aesthetic. This loft would become home to the original couch and chairs from the first location, complete with a TV setup for vintage Nintendo games—a little hidden retreat within the shop.

We also wanted to carry over that little pop of red from the first location, so we brought our red cord pendant lights into the new design. This time, though, instead of the Edison bulbs that fit the whole “turn-of-the-century warehouse” vibe, I opted for half-chrome bulbs—a slightly more modern touch for the new construction space. Unfortunately, we couldn’t reuse our original fixtures because of the taller ceilings. But you best believe we did not leave those behind for our ex-landlord to keep. In fact, if anyone wants an original pendant light fixture from the first Soda Parlor, let me know. I still have them boxed up in the shop basement. 

Do not judge me.

And finally, I wanted to build out another accent wall behind the service counter. This time, instead of just running the boards straight across, I was really vibing with a patterned design. It turned out fantastic—but wow, was it a pain in the butt to install. And not for the reasons you’d think.

In the original Soda Parlor, we were in an older warehouse, which came with its fair share of quirks and structural “surprises.” But in my naïve mind, I thought, Wow, new construction! No more dealing with 100-year-old building issues!

Yeah. Wrong.

Instead of century-old challenges, we were now up against the shoddy building practices of modern, fast-track construction. And let me tell you—I picked the worst possible wall for this accent project. Whoever built this place had clearly never heard of crowning their studs (rookie mistake). This wall had more waves than a water park. So, what did we have to do? Build a wall on top of the wall just to get a level surface to clad in boards. Yep—a wall for the wall. It turned out great though, right?

          

Big Business, Bad Parking, and Almost Throwing Hands

Before I wrap this up, there’s something I need to talk about—because as the daughter of a blue-collar worker, what I witnessed dealing with the Nashville Real Estate Titan™ exposed an ugly side of big corporations that I wasn’t prepared for. I’m talking about the rules we had to abide by during the build-out. 

As I mentioned before, the parking lot of our under construction building was owned and managed by what I will now and forever refer to as The Parking Mafia™.

If you’re unfamiliar with how parking works in Nashville, here’s the scam: it’s not run by the city. It’s run by private companies, and it is hands down one of the most ridiculous rackets in town. If you stay a minute past your paid time? Boom. $50-$70 ticket. Not a charge for another hour of parking—just an instant, absurd fine. Why? Who knows. They have no real jurisdiction, so technically, you don’t even have to pay them—you just have to avoid parking in the Mafia’s lot until your license plate changes or risk being booted.

Now, here’s where it gets really infuriating.

**The Real Estate Titan™ made us pay for parking—**even during construction, even though the building wasn’t open for business, even though we were literally building out their damn property. If we wanted to park close to the building, it was $50 a day.

Let me repeat that.

The landlord did not think it was necessary to make one of the hardest parts of opening a business any easier. One of the absolute worst parts of doing construction on-site is lugging your expensive tools back and forth to your truck or trailer every single day because leaving them inside overnight is basically an open invitation for theft. But instead of allowing us to park two steps from the door, we had to walk a full block back and forth—because, and I quote, “We don’t want construction workers parking there.”

Translation: “We think working-class people and their trucks make our under-construction building look bad.”  Some high-nose bullshit if I’ve ever seen it. Well, I wasn’t about to play by their ridiculous rules. So, I secured long-term parking passes for the lot. Or so I thought.

Enter: The Parking Mafia Boss™

One day, while we were deep in the final stretch of the build-out— weeks from opening—I got word from our property manager that they were holding a ribbon-cutting ceremony with the Mayor for the new building. And I was told to stop construction and make sure everything was cleaned up for their photo op.

I calmly informed them that if they expected rent to be paid on time next month, that wasn’t happening. Well, wouldn’t you know it—the Parking Mafia Boss™ was in attendance. And he was outraged that construction trucks were daring to exist in his precious parking lot. He demanded to know how we got parking passes.

And that’s when I was told—conveniently, only now—that the passes I had were actually for another lot on Woodland Street, meaning we couldn’t park in that particular lot after all. And since they had been “mistakenly” issued, they would need to confiscate them immediately. 

I said, “We’ll move our vehicles to the Woodland lot, but unless you’re giving us a full refund, you’re not taking anything from me.” 

And that’s when The Parking Mafia Boss™ tried to snatch them out of my hands.

Listening……..I was already stressed. But when that man came at me, I lost it.

I don’t remember everything, but I do remember telling him his jurisdiction ends at the sidewalk and to back the f-bomb up—because I was about to throw a punch.  And I also remember all the construction workers under my employ backing me up and having to hold me back.

In the end, I secured a full refund for those ridiculously overpriced parking permits. But let’s be real—I’m probably on this guy’s personal hit list. Oh, and just to add insult to injury, I actually wrote to our city councilman about the Parking Mafia™ problem—because surely this is something the city should address, right?

His response? A diplomatic way of saying, “Yeah, that’s never gonna change.” Which pretty much confirmed what I already suspected: when it comes to parking in Nashville, it’s just a giant rich-guy circle jerk party.

Seriously. If you’ve made it this far, through all the chaos, setbacks, and sheer stubbornness that went into building The Soda Parlor 2.0, I appreciate you. This journey wasn’t easy, but looking back, every challenge, every ridiculous landlord, every fight for parking (literally) was worth it. Because in the end, we built something that mattered. 

Whether you were a customer, a supporter from afar, or just someone who enjoys a good underdog story—I’m grateful for you. The Soda Parlor was never just about ice cream and waffles. It was about community, creativity, and proving that passion can outlast the obstacles thrown in its way. 

So, thank you for being part of this story. And if there’s one thing I hope you take away from all of this, it’s this: Build what you want to build. Do it your way. And don’t let the doubters stop you.  The next installment will be about the highs and lows of running this location for almost four years and it's untimely departure from this community in 2020. 

- Rachel Rogers