(Start of Week 28. Theo's Balance: $44,540.00)

  Week 28 - Monday

  Week 28 began under a pall of dust and the sharp scent of industrial cleaner. Monday morning found Theo not enjoying a leisurely enhanced coffee, but standing amidst the gutted interior of what used to be 'Something Fishy', directing a whirlwind of activity. Project Neptune was in full swing, and the reality of transforming this neglected space into 'Old School Fish & Chips' was proving to be a demanding, cash-draining operation.

  He’d spent most of Monday morning coordinating the tradespeople he’d lined up last week. First came the plumber, a burly man named Frank with sceptical eyes, assessing the damage near the back sink where the pipe, weakened by Theo’s pressure manipulation and subsequent reversion, had finally given way.

  "Yeah, she blew alright," Frank grunted, shining a flashlight onto stained drywall and warped floorboards. "Looks like the main joint here was ancient, probably corroded clean through. Lucky it didn't take out the whole wall. Gonna need to replace this whole section, maybe check the connections to the grease trap while I'm at it." He scribbled a quote on a carbon-copy pad, the number making Theo wince internally, plumbing emergencies weren't cheap. "Can start tomorrow, take a day, maybe two if the subfloor's soaked."

  Next was the electrician, a younger, more energetic woman named Chloe, who quickly confirmed the main panel was undersized for commercial fryer and freezer loads. "Asking for trouble, running everything off this," she declared, pointing out frayed wiring near the main breaker. "Definitely recommend upgrading to a higher amperage panel, run some dedicated circuits for the heavy gear. Safer, more reliable." Another hefty quote was presented and reluctantly approved by Theo.

  Finally, the general contractor, Mike, surveyed the water damage, the cracked floor tiles, the grease-stained walls. "Okay," Mike sighed, rubbing his chin. "Needs new drywall here, patch and seal. Flooring… honestly, this whole section should be retiled, but patching the worst cracks will get you open. Full deep clean essential, especially that ventilation hood, it’s a fire hazard waiting to happen." He promised to schedule his cleaning crew and repair team to start work concurrently with the plumber and electrician.

  Theo stood alone amidst the dust and faint smell of damp plaster after the last tradesman left, the weight of their combined estimates settling heavily in his gut. Plumbing repairs, electrical panel upgrade, drywall replacement, floor patching, professional deep clean… easily eight, maybe ten thousand dollars just for the essential fixes needed before he could even think about aesthetic upgrades or new equipment. He mentally subtracted that figure, plus the $30k acquisition cost that had just cleared, from his starting balance of ~$44k. His comfortable cash cushion suddenly looked alarmingly thin, barely enough to cover a couple more months of personal expenses plus Maria's ongoing operational costs if something went wrong there.

  He leaned against a dusty countertop, a cynical phrase he remembered hearing tossed around by weathered executives back at the bank echoing in his mind: "Profit is vanity, cashflow is sanity." Or the blunter version: "Cashflow is king." He’d always understood it intellectually, but now he felt it. Profit wasn't the same as cash in the bank, ready to deploy. That profit needed time to accumulate, while these renovation bills, supplier deposits, and unexpected repairs demanded immediate payment now.

  Owning assets, Maria's potentially worth a decent multiple, the 'Something Fishy' lease and equipment, was meaningless if he didn't have the liquid capital to operate, renovate, and weather storms. This is another life lesson, he acknowledged grimly. Need a much bigger cash reserve. Need more readily accessible funds. Profit projections were fine for planning, but having actual cash on hand to seize opportunities (like buying ‘Something Fishy’ for cheap) and absorb shocks (like burst pipes or broken equipment) was paramount. Cashflow truly was king, and he needed to bolster his treasury significantly before making any more big moves or considering personal luxuries. The success of both shops, launched quickly and efficiently, just became even more critical.

  He checked the Ring cameras for Maria's briefly on his phone. Henry, Olivia, and Jenny were calmly handling the Monday lunch rush. He saw Alex, one of the new part-timers, carefully shadowing Olivia at the packing station, learning the ropes. Good, Theo thought. Need that operation stable. Need that cash flow.

  Week 28 - Tuesday

  Tuesday afternoon offered a welcome strategic diversion. The cheerful energy of the Gong Cha bubble tea shop was a jarring contrast to the quiet intensity of Theo's morning spent coordinating plumbers and electricians at the gutted 'Something Fishy' premises. He found a small table near the window, watching the bustling lunchtime crowd thin out slightly as he waited. He ordered his usual Pearl Milk Tea, the simple, sweet familiarity a welcome anchor. His aversion to coffee hadn't returned, the enhanced cup he'd enjoyed yesterday morning had been purely pleasurable, confirming the nightmare week of the experiment was firmly behind him. But bubble tea felt right for meeting Sarah, casual, neutral territory, and a little bit of fun.

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  She arrived exactly at one, weaving through the tables, offering him a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes today. She looked tired, stressed, the vibrant energy from their previous meetings noticeably dimmed.

  "Hey," she said, sliding into the chair opposite him after ordering her Taro Milk Tea. "Don’t take it the wrong way if I seem a little grumpy, not been the best day so far. Feels like I'm becoming your designated 'complain about Meta' friend."

  "Happy to provide an impartial ear," Theo replied easily. "How are things? Did the restructure dust settle?"

  Sarah took a long, slow sip of her freshly delivered, vibrant purple drink before answering. "The dust settled," she said, her voice flat. "And revealed an absolute dumpster fire underneath." She sighed heavily. "So after thinking I was lucky to survive the axe, but its probably more like I stayed behind and got caught up in the trap they designed. Got moved to the new 'Synergized Content and Revenue Optimization Taskforce' – sounds fancy, right? It's basically my old ad revenue team merged with the content algorithm team, but with half the experienced people gone."

  She leaned forward, lowering her voice slightly despite the surrounding noise. "They didn't just trim fat, Theo, they cut bone. We lost all the senior engineers who actually understood the legacy ad systems, the ones keeping the multi-billion-dollar revenue stream from collapsing under its own weight of spaghetti code. Now? It's me, two other equally stressed mid-level engineers, and a swarm of bright-eyed, utterly clueless new grads they hired to replace the seniors at a fraction of the cost."

  She stabbed agitatedly at a tapioca pearl with her straw. "My new boss, who apparently got the job because he's a VP's golf buddy, is completely out of his depth but acts like he invented machine learning. He just throws impossible deadlines at us, demanding 'synergistic optimization' without understanding the first thing about the underlying architecture. I spent literally four hours yesterday explaining basic API authentication to a kid who apparently aced his university coding exams but couldn't debug a 'Hello World' script. Forget optimizing algorithms. I'm running remedial coding boot camp while trying to patch critical bugs the newbies keep introducing into production! It's exhausting, demoralizing, and honestly… feels like the whole thing is held together with duct tape and my rapidly fraying sanity." She slumped back in her chair. "So yeah. That's Meta right now."

  Theo listened intently, recognizing the toxic corporate dynamics all too well from his time at the bank, the political appointments, the cost-cutting leading to chaos, the crushing weight of incompetence from above. "Sounds brutal," he said, meaning it. "Makes my current project renovating a condemned fish shop seem almost relaxing by comparison."

  Sarah managed a weak smile. "Fish shop? Oh yeah, the 'distressed asset Something Fishy'. Still can’t believe you brought another distressed asset. I thought your initial purchase of Maria’s was madness already, but you’ve turned that one around in a hurry. So ‘Something Fishy’ is next on the list?"

  "Yup, that’s right," Theo confirmed, allowing a hint of satisfaction into his voice. "Closed last Friday. Got it for thirty grand, place is a wreck inside after the previous owner let it go, plus that burst pipe didn't help him." He deliberately omitted his role in causing some of that distress. "Renovations started yesterday. Plumbers, electricians… the works. Aiming to relaunch in about two, maybe three weeks if the contractors stick to schedule."

  "Wow! That was fast!" Sarah seemed genuinely impressed, her own work troubles momentarily forgotten. "So, what's the plan? Keep the 'Something Fishy' name?" she asked, wrinkling her nose. "Definitely needs a rebrand."

  "Exactly," Theo agreed. "That's actually why I wanted to pick your brain today. Need a new name, a new identity. The vision is simple: ditch all the gimmicks, focus purely on doing classic fish and chips perfectly. High-quality fish, crispy batter, amazing hand-cut fries done right. That's it. Simple, quality, consistent."

  Sarah nodded thoughtfully, pulling out her tablet, her marketing brain kicking into gear. "Okay, simple, quality, classic… Got it. So, names…" She started sketching ideas. "Needs to feel reliable, maybe a touch nostalgic? What about something playing on freshness? 'The Daily Catch'? 'Ocean Fresh Fry'? Or location-based? 'Waterfront Chips'?" She looked up. "Or something punchier? 'The Salty Cod'? 'Theo’s Chippy'?"

  Theo considered them. "They're okay," he conceded, "but maybe still a bit… generic? Or trying too hard? I keep thinking back to those old neighbourhood fish and chip shops everyone seems to remember fondly. The ones that didn't need fancy names or marketing, they just… made really good food, wrapped it in paper, and people lined up." He searched for the right words. "It needs to convey that dedication to the basics, done right. Like… the way things used to be done." He paused, the idea forming. "You know… kind of like… Old School."

  The name hung in the air. Sarah repeated it slowly, tasting the syllables. "'Old School Fish & Chips'…" Her eyes lit up, a genuine spark replacing the earlier fatigue. "Okay… Okay, yeah! I really like that! It works!" She started sketching again, rapidly this time. "It completely sets the expectation, no frills, no fusion nonsense, just pure, unadulterated, perfectly executed classic comfort food. It implies confidence in the product itself. It’s got that slightly retro, authentic vibe without being dated. Yes!"

  "Exactly," Theo affirmed, pleased she grasped his vision immediately. "Focus entirely on perfect golden batter, flaky white fish, maybe offer cod and haddock, amazing hand-cut chips, maybe real mushy peas or good coleslaw. Grilled option for the health-conscious crowd. That's the menu. Simple, tight, executed flawlessly every time thanks to," he caught himself, almost mentioning the enhanced tools, "uh… rigorous process control."

  "Perfect!" Sarah was fully engaged now, sketching logo ideas. "Logo needs to match. Clean lines, classic colour palette, maybe a deep navy blue and white, maybe a touch of yellow? Retro font, but clean, not cheesy. Like an old diner sign, but modernized." She held up a quick sketch, simple text treatment, maybe a stylized, minimalist fish icon. "Something like this?"

  Theo studied it. "Yeah… that's the direction. Simple, confident, quality."