Bread, Paychecks and Patience

Maricel Santos says the first year of Daily Bread Collective taught her the difference between a good idea and a working business.

The idea was simple. Women leaving shelters in Sacramento needed steady jobs and a reference they could put on a résumé. People in the city liked good bread. A bakery could connect the two.

The business was harder.

The first loaves

Maricel had worked as a case manager at a women's shelter for eight years. She was a capable home baker, not a professional. In 2018, she rented time in a church kitchen at night and hired two women from the shelter to help her bake for a Saturday farmers' market.

They sold out in an hour the first week. The second week, it rained and they sold almost nothing. "That was my introduction to the food business," she laughed.

When mission isn't enough

For three years, Daily Bread depended on grants and donations to cover about 40 percent of its costs. Maricel felt that was unsustainable, and a little dishonest to customers who believed they were buying from a self-supporting business.

She hired a retired commercial baker as a part-time production manager, reduced the menu from 22 items to 8, and started selling wholesale to three local coffee shops. She also had to tell a beloved trainee she couldn't continue in the program after repeated absences, a decision she still thinks about.

"I wanted to give everyone unlimited chances," she said. "But the business can't survive that, and if it doesn't survive, nobody gets a chance."

Daily bread, literally

The name comes from the Lord's Prayer. Maricel says it reminds her to focus on what's needed today rather than worrying about the whole year.

Daily Bread now covers 85 percent of its costs through sales. Each trainee completes a nine-month paid program, and 47 women have graduated. Maricel keeps a photo of each graduate on the wall by the ovens.

"Some of them call me on hard days," she said. "Some of them I never hear from again. Both are okay. We gave them a good start."