By Gricelda Mata, President/ CEO / Owner of Lindo Mexico Restaurante Mexicano & Bar
Gricelda was scheduled to present at our Latina Founder Panel but was unable to do so. In this blog post, she shares her story and insights.
I had planned to share this story in person at the Latina Founders Panel. Life had other plans, the way it sometimes does. So, I am sharing it here instead, the way I would have told it in person.
In the dining room at Lindo Mexico, my restaurant here in Wyoming, there is a mural. Two luchadores, Mexican wrestlers, masks and all.
If you have ever visited us, you have probably walked right past it. Painted next to the wrestlers are the words I have come to live by:
“No hay peor lucha que la que no se hace.” The worst fight is the one you never take on.
It is my favorite phrase. And without even planning to, I have been living it for 25 years.
But in the year 2000, I did not have a philosophy. I did not have a mural. I did not have a plan.
I was unemployed.
Why Not?
Let me back up, all the way.
I was born in Michoacán, Mexico. I came to this country at 11-years-old, with my family, without one word of English. Not one. I am the second oldest of seven kids, and the only girl. So while my brothers were busy being boys, I was helping raise five of them. That was my first leadership job. I just did not get paid for it.
We made our life in Chicago. That is where I grew up and went to school, until the start of my senior year, when my parents moved us to Grand Rapids, Michigan. New city, new school, one more new beginning.
All through high school, I worked a part-time factory job during the week and on weekends. In our culture, we were taught to work when we could and to help the family with the household. So that is what I did.
Me? I had plans. I was going to be an attorney or an architect. But when you are helping pay the bills in high school, plans like that have to wait. So when I graduated, I kept working, full time now. And when I turned 18, I moved to another factory, this time hanging car parts, second shift, because the pay was better. It was. It was also so much harder, and so much more tiring.
And I remember, one day on that shift, a feeling came over me. A need to do something else. Like I was destined for something more. I did not know yet what it was.
But let me tell you something: nobody hires you for “destined.” On paper, all I had was factory work. So while I was at the car parts factory, I started taking classes here and there, to see if something clicked. Then I made a choice that made no sense to anyone looking at my paycheck: I quit the factory and took a job doing market research for a lot less money, just to get experience in something new. I kept taking my classes. Eventually, I landed a job as a receptionist. And then, well, I believe everything happens for a reason. Because by 2000, I was unemployed.
That is when my brother Chris came to me and said, “We should open a restaurant.”
My dad had owned a restaurant. But me? I did not know how to run one. I did not know anything about the business. What I saw was very simple: a job. I needed work, and this was work. So I asked myself one question.
Why not?
People ask me, “Weren’t you scared?” The answer is no. Not because I was brave, but because I did not know enough to be scared. You know how they tell you to do your research before you start a business? I am not that example.
Here is how fast it all happened. I got married on December 1, 2000. We opened Lindo Mexico on Clyde Park the very next day, December 2. Wife one day, Business owner the next. And not long after that, a mother. Wife, mother, restaurant owner, all in about a year.
When people hear that, they think I must have had it all figured out. I promise you, I did not. My dad was in the kitchen, guiding my brother. And me? I was on the floor, waiting tables. I am glad that is where I started. Because the floor is where I learned the lesson I have carried ever since.
One day a customer came in. He sat down, and I walked over to take his order, like I did for every table. And he looked at me from the bottom, up. Like he had already decided what I was worth before I said one word. That look made me feel disrespected. But I did my job anyway. I took his order. I brought his food. I treated him the way I treat everyone who walks through my door.
And then, at some point, he found out that the waitress was the owner. Everything changed. His attitude. His tone. His respect. All of a sudden, I was worth his good manners.
Same woman. Same apron. Different title.
That day I decided something about myself, and about the business I wanted to build. It is about people. Not titles. Every person who walks into Lindo Mexico, the guest in a suit, the guest in work boots, the dishwasher, the person mopping the floor at closing time, gets the same respect. Because I know exactly what it feels like to be looked at from the bottom, up.
What Did I Get Myself Into?
We were on Clyde Park for nine years. Those nine years were the true start of my journey. That place did not teach me everything about the business. It taught me that I did not know what I did not know. The long days, the payroll, the problems. Every day, something new I had never seen before.
Then our landlord decided to raise our rent. Not a little. A lot. He thought we had no choice. He thought we would just pay. Little did he know, what he had really just done was slap me in the face.
That slap woke me up. Yes, I was angry. But underneath the anger, I discovered something better: I had power. I did not have to stay there. I could move.
So I made a decision that sounds crazy. I closed my restaurant for three months. I know. Who closes a restaurant on purpose? But that is what we did. No income. No guarantee. Just the belief that we deserved better, and the determination to go find it.
We found it on 28th Street, the old Fazoli’s. Double the size. A liquor license. Ten more employees. And here is what nobody tells you about growing: Everything I did not know? It got bigger too.
A bigger place means bigger expenses. More staff means more problems you have never solved before. And the hardest part: A bigger place required a different me. The Gricelda who could run the place on Clyde Park was not enough for this one. As the restaurant was growing, I had to grow too. I needed to become a better version of myself to meet the needs of this new journey.
And nobody hands you instructions for that.
That first year on 28th Street? I wanted to close. I wanted to walk away. But I learned something about myself instead: I cannot give up without trying. Perseverance. That is what kept me in.
So instead of quitting, I hired a business coach to survey my employees. Anonymous. Honest. I wanted to know what my team really thought about me, as a boss, as a leader. And when the results came back?
The truth hurts.
But I will tell you what I tell my team to this day: the truth hurts, but it is so much better than sugarcoating. That survey made me a better boss. Not overnight. But it showed me exactly where I needed to grow.
Remember how I said nobody hands you instructions? Well, around that time my husband gave me a book about restaurant businesses. I read that thing so fast. I practiced the examples. I started implementing what I learned, little by little. It did not teach me everything. No book can. But what I learned from that book helped me keep going. That is how I got my education in this business. Not a degree on a wall. Long days, honest mistakes, a lot of questions and a book from someone who believed in me.
And little by little, things changed. One day my brother Chris asked me, “How come we never win any awards?” I told him, “Because I haven’t tried. Want me to try?” I have a few under my belt now.
Finding My Why
With everything I have told you about those years on 28th Street, you might think my why was survival. Keeping the doors open. It started that way. But something happened at that location that changed me.
We held our first Día del Niño -- Children’s Day, like we celebrate it in Mexico. Nothing big. We gave the kids food. Bicycles. Scooters. And when I saw the smiles on their faces, something lit up in me.
So we went further. We had our first Christmas dinner. My team and I found three families, families who truly needed it. We called the parents ahead and asked one question: “What is the one thing your kids would love to receive for Christmas?” And we went out and bought those exact presents.
That night, I did not want to just give them dinner. I wanted them to have an experience. So I hired a mariachi band to play for them. And when the kids opened their presents, I thought I was the one giving.
Little did I know, I was the one receiving. Their gift to me? Helping me discover another part of me.
At the end of the night, one of the mothers came up to me and said: “You have no idea what you have done for us today. Today, my younger daughter turns two.” And she cried. And she hugged me.
That is when I understood two things. My business is a tool to help others. The restaurant is the how, and that is the why. And I discovered one of my love languages: acts of service. Nothing makes me happier than seeing that I made someone’s day, or even one moment, better. That feeling is priceless.
Here is what finding your why does for you: it gives you fuel. I was no longer working just to keep the doors open. I was working for something bigger than me. And with that fuel, I went after my next goal.
I wanted to move Lindo Mexico into what is now our current location. My first attempt? Failed. I went to the bank for a loan, and the bank said no.
Now, a “no” like that can kill a goal. Or it can give you a to-do list. So I asked them a simple question: “What do you need from me, so that next time the answer is yes?” They told me. And for two years, I worked on that list. Two years. Then I came back, same bank, same goal.
This time, the answer was YES!
We took an old Ponderosa building, knocked it down and built Lindo Mexico from scratch. Our own building. Our own walls. We opened those doors on December 2, 2015, exactly fifteen years to the day after the first Lindo Mexico on Clyde Park. The first date happened to me, the day after my wedding, everything at once. This date? This one I chose.
And then my why was tested.
In 2019, I was ready to build again. Plans in hand. New business. Loan approved, same bank, because now they believed in me. And then my dad’s health got worse. My dad, the man who was in the kitchen with my brother on day one, helping us.
I became his legal guardian. And once again, I had to become a better version of myself, this time to help him fight a system that was not designed or built for people like him. That was my love language showing up again.
And there was no space left for a new business. So I went back to that bank, and this time, I told them no. Thank you. Not now.
By then, I knew my why: people. And that year, the person who needed me most was my dad.
I lost him that year.
A business, you can build it later. A loan, you can apply for it again. But doing all you can for your dad?
There is no bank for that. Letting go of that business was not giving up. It was choosing my fight. And I have never, not once, regretted it.
What I Would Tell Her (and You)
So, when I tell you “find your why,” I am not giving you a phrase from a book. I found mine at a Christmas dinner in a mother’s hug. And I had to find it again in 2019, when it looked like I was walking away from a goal. Your why is not a sentence you write once. It is a question life keeps asking you.
Twenty-five years. Three buildings. A thousand mistakes. A few awards. And one question that started it all: Why not?
If I could sit down across the table from the woman who asked that question in 2000, unemployed, newly married, no idea what she was walking into, here is what I would tell her:
“Girl, get ready. Hang on to your pants, because this journey is about to change you into someone you never thought you could become.”
Then I would give her the advice it took me 25 years to collect. Follow your gut. Stay open-minded. Never be ashamed of asking questions; that is part of your magic. And give yourself some grace, because you are going to need it.
I would tell her what a mentor once taught me: luck does not exist. You are only able to see the opportunity when you have prepared yourself and are ready for it. So, prepare yourself. Your “what did I get myself into?” will be easier on you, and on everyone around you.
And I would tell her the thing I only understood recently: “You are never going to be an attorney. You are never going to be an architect. Or... maybe you will. Because in one way or another, you are going to become the attorney, and the architect, of your own journey.”
The last thing I would tell her is about a mural. One day, you are going to have a mural painted on the wall of your own restaurant, in your own building. Two luchadores. And next to them, the words you are going to live before you ever read them: No hay peor lucha que la que no se hace. The worst fight is the one you never take on.
The landlord. The bank. The fight for your dad. Every fight that mattered, you took on. Little did you know, you were living those words the whole time.
But I am not only talking to her.
Maybe you are reading this today with your own “why not” in front of you. A business. A goal. A fight you have not taken on yet. I cannot promise you it will be easy. I can promise you it will change you.
So, find your why. And when life changes, because it will, find it again. And again.
I know I will.
Gracias.
Gricelda Mata is President / CEO / Owner of Lindo Mexico Restaurante Mexicano & Bar in Wyoming, Michigan, serving the community since December 2, 2000. Find Lindo Mexico at lindomexicogr.com and @lindomexicogr.
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