The people who would miss you

There are plant nurseries all along one road on the edge of Manama, and from the car they look the same. Palms in black pots, bougainvillea, bags of soil, a man in the shade who will help you carry things.

If you owned one of them, the crowd would feel like the problem. Every shopper can simply drive fifty metres to the next gate.

There are two ways to answer that.

The first is to widen and cheapen. Stock everything the others stock, a little cheaper, a little faster, with longer opening hours. Make yourself the easiest option on the road. This works until the nursery next door does the same, and then the only thing left to compete on is how little you can earn.

The second is to narrow. Pick the people who care about something particular, say, those trying to keep a shaded balcony green through the summer, and become the place that knows that problem better than anyone. The plants that survive it, the pots that do not crack, the watering habits that actually work. Most passing shoppers will not care, and that is fine.

The ones who do care will not drive fifty metres for a cheaper palm. They will drive across town, and they will bring their neighbours, because finding someone who understands your odd little problem is rare enough to talk about.

A crowded road is only crowded for people trying to serve everyone on it.