jordan pulse -

By Atef Abu Hajar
​In an era where an idea quickly becomes a project, a project becomes a social media page, and a page becomes a hope hanging between a "like" and a "share," it is no longer strange for a person to wake up to a business venture they never even imagined. We live in an age where dreams are cooked faster than eggs, but the problem is that some are served raw... or burnt!
​Years ago, as a result of economic circumstances that require no fertile imagination to describe, but rather a calculator that sighs every time you press the "plus" button, I found myself drowning in a sea of modest-looking yet heavy debts: a revolving bank loan that seems personally attached to me, a loan from the "Woman's Fund" that demands repayment more than my wife does, and electricity, water, and internet bills multiplying like rabbits, alongside private school tuition for my youngest child, and property taxes that won't fall away even if I dead myself.
​In the midst of all this talk about "financial security"—a concept I have never known—my wife said to me, as if reminding me of an unquestionable truth: "As you know, I have no job, no pension, no social security, and not even an inheritance..." She paused briefly before the idea fully took shape in my head: If there is no salary, no pension, no social security, and no inheritance... then why not start a home kitchen? And so, the project was born—not out of a feasibility study or capital, but out of sheer necessity, a bit of enthusiasm, and a whole lot of good intentions!
​Amid this tragic scene, my wife—may God bless her unconsulted enthusiasm—decided to surprise me with a half-baked, completely doomed project. On a sunny day without any preamble, she set up a Facebook and Instagram page titled "Home Kitchen." The name alone conveys warmth, but what lay hidden was far greater!
​The advertising campaign kicked off: rapid-fire posts, videos—some original, others "creatively borrowed"—and dishes ranging between what my wife excels at making and what she hopes to master one day. We were selling hope far more than we were selling food.
​After a long wait, the phone finally rang! A historic call from a customer ordering two chicken musakhan dishes and two kilograms of ma'amoul. That day, I felt the business had officially launched, and that we were on the threshold of a food empire rivaling international restaurants... or at least the neighborhood grocery store.
​Preparation day arrived: trips to the supermarket, skyrocketing receipts, and ingredients bought as if we were catering a wedding. The kitchen transformed into a battlefield of flour, oil, and onions. After painstaking effort, the order emerged into the light—or specifically, into the car.
​I loaded the tray of musakhan and the dish of ma'amoul, adding a few "marketing touches": pickles, olives, and fresh vegetables... until I felt like I was delivering a feast to a diplomatic delegation rather than a simple home order. I got into the car with my kids, Zaid and Ghena, officially becoming a "delivery driver"... while my shame waved at me from the back seat.
​I set off toward the address on the outskirts of As-Salt, beginning a journey fit for a music video to Tawfiq Al-Nimri's song "I Turn and Spin." The GPS led me north, then south, as if the customer were testing my endurance rather than my delivery skills.
​Finally, we arrived. We delivered the order safely and returned home victorious... or so we thought.
​We sat down to calculate our profits, only for reality to slap us without warning: our losses exceeded 50%! Yes, the "Home Kitchen" project was simmering failure over a low flame, while we were clapping for the aroma!
​And so ended our first and last venture into the world of home-based businesses. We learned that enthusiasm alone is not enough, and that an idea—no matter how delicious it sounds—can taste bitter in the accounting. The difference between us and successful entrepreneurs isn't just in capital, but in how we think as well.
​As the late singer Abdel Halim Hafez once sang: "I repent!" (Tawba!). But in our case, it was a repentance from half-baked projects before they completely bankrupt us... And from that day on, we entered the world of "Home Kitchen"... and exited it before the first baking tray could even cool down.