What Do “Roll Tide” Toilet Seats Have to Do With Greek Life?

The Business Behind the Letters | Episode 2

The first place my grandmother sold Greek merchandise wasn't a convention hall, a boutique, or even a traditional storefront.

It was the Bessemer Flea Market in Alabama.

On one side of our booth were hand-carved toilet-seat wall covers proudly displaying the words “Roll Tide.”

On the other side? Wall-to-wall scrunchy socks for little girls.

And right there in the middle was my grandmother, building what would become our family's business.

I was in junior high school, and I remember wondering how in the world we fit into this particular collection of Southern curiosities.

Apparently, my grandmother knew something I didn't.

Our people would find us.

And they did.

But the story really begins before the flea market.

My grandmother, Susie Hall, was a proud woman with strong ties to the Zeta and Amicae community. In the early 1990s, she grew increasingly frustrated with the quality and limited selection of merchandise available for the organizations she loved.

She believed members deserved better.

Better products. Better choices. Better quality.

So, she did what entrepreneurs have been doing for generations.

She decided to do something about it.

She began identifying wholesale suppliers around the country. We made our first business road trip to the famous Spirit Show, searching for merchandise and building relationships with vendors who could help us bring something different to our community.

Today, people might call that market research, supplier development, and identifying an underserved customer segment.

My grandmother simply recognized a need and got busy meeting it.

That's an important distinction.

Having a good business idea is one thing. Figuring out how to turn that idea into something people will actually buy is another.

Before we ever opened that flea-market booth, products had to be found, selected, purchased, transported, and priced. Somebody had to decide what customers might want, how much inventory we could afford, and whether people would actually buy it.

And here's something that many new entrepreneurs learn the hard way: purchasing inventory is a gamble.

Buy too little, and you disappoint customers.

Buy too much, and your money sits on a shelf waiting for someone to come along.

My grandmother was learning to balance those decisions while building a business from the ground up.

And she had a full-time job.

Did I mention that?

My grandmother was a real estate broker. My mother worked for the Social Security Administration. And I was a junior high school student with homework, extracurricular activities, and apparently a second career.

My Aunt Betty Jo ran the booth until the rest of us could get there.

It was truly a family operation.

As for me, I served as the secretary, salesperson, designer, technology department, and frequently, the mule.

If something needed to be carried, typed, designed, organized, or sold, chances are I had something to do with it.

I learned to make flyers using a DOS program on my grandmother's computer. The program I was using didn't have a save function, so if I made a mistake, I had to start the entire flyer over again.

Imagine spending an hour creating something only to discover one mistake meant starting from scratch.

Let's just say I learned patience.

But I was learning something much more valuable than how to create a flyer.

I was learning how a business operates.

Because when people talk about family businesses, they often talk about legacy, tradition, and generational wealth.

They don't always talk about the labor.

The evenings after work. The weekends spent selling. The family members who become employees, movers, designers, bookkeepers, and customer-service representatives—sometimes all in the same afternoon.

That labor doesn't become free simply because the people doing it share a last name.

It represents time, sacrifice, and opportunity.

And for many small Black-owned businesses, that family commitment is what makes getting started possible.

Eventually, our customers found us at the Bessemer Flea Market.

Then something remarkable happened.

They kept coming back.

After a few months, we moved from the outdoor flea market to an indoor flea market closer to town.

Our customers followed.

Later, we moved into a small duplex office space in Five Points West in Birmingham. We stayed there for nearly ten years.

As the business grew, we began traveling to clusters, statewide meetings, and other special events.

Each move brought new opportunities, but it also brought new responsibilities.

A storefront means additional operating expenses. More inventory means more money invested before a sale is made. Traveling to events means planning, transportation, and time away from other responsibilities.

Growth isn't just about selling more.

It's about building the systems—and having the resources—to support what comes next.

But through all those changes, one thing remained constant.

My grandmother.

I watched her demonstrate what I can only describe as world-class saleswomanship.

She was the consummate professional.

One moment, she was handling her real estate business. The next, she was working in the shop, serving customers, making decisions, and figuring out how to keep everything moving.

She understood people. She understood the importance of quality. And she understood that a customer who trusted you today might become a customer for years to come.

Long before I understood financial statements, inventory turnover, or profit margins, I was receiving a firsthand education in entrepreneurship.

I didn't realize it then, but those lessons would follow me through every stage of my life.

And they still guide how I think about A&W Greek Shop today.

When I walk into a Divine Nine vendor hall now, I see more than tables filled with T-shirts, jackets, jewelry, and handbags.

I see entrepreneurs who identified a need and decided to take a chance.

I see families working together.

I see people trying to build something lasting in a marketplace that is uniquely ours.

And I wonder how many of their stories began somewhere just as unexpected as ours.

Somewhere between the day jobs and the late nights.

Between an idea and the first customer.

Between a grandmother who saw what was missing and a granddaughter who didn't yet understand what she was witnessing.

Our business didn't begin with a beautiful storefront or a big investment.

It began with a woman who believed her community deserved something better—and a family willing to help her make it happen.

And yes, it began between “Roll Tide” toilet-seat covers and little girls' scrunchy socks.

More than three decades later, I wouldn't trade that beginning for anything.

Because it taught me something I wish more people understood:

A small business may start with merchandise. But building one that lasts requires much more.

And sometimes, the best business school in the world is a booth at the flea market.

Now, I'd love to hear from you:

What's the most unexpected place you've ever purchased Greek merchandise?

And for my fellow entrepreneurs, who was the person who first taught you what it really takes to build a business?

Tell me in the comments. I would love to hear your story.

COMING NEXT — EPISODE 3

“Before You Sell a Single Letter, You Have to Pay for the Right.”

You found the customers. You've found the merchandise. You're ready to open for business.

Not so fast.

In the world of officially licensed Divine Nine merchandise, there are requirements, fees, approvals, and financial obligations that many customers never see.

Next time, we're talking about what it actually takes to become—and remain—a licensed vendor.

The Business Behind the Letters is an original A&W Greek Shop Journal series exploring the people, economics, and experiences behind the businesses serving the Divine Nine community.

Previously: Episode 1 — The Best Small Businesses in the World