Chapter 5: Jack Names, and Forms the Golf Simulator Business

Jack’s Golf Simulator Startup Story — Chapter 5: golf tee with flag marker.

 

This article is part of a seven-chapter story following Jack on their journey to start a Golf Simulator Business.

Inspired by the guide 37 Tips for Starting a Golf Simulator Business, the series blends practical steps with storytelling to show what starting a business really feels like.

Jack Handles the Legal Setup, Insurance & Funding

What Do You Mean the Name’s Already Taken?

“Westfield Golf Lounge” sounds perfect until I discover someone in California owns the domain, wants $12,000 for it, and won’t budge.

I stare at my laptop screen, the GoDaddy search mocking me with variations: westfieldgolflounge.net (available but wrong), westfield-golf-lounge.com (looks amateur), thwestfieldgolflounge.com (absolutely not).

I’ve been Jack from the hotel for so long that creating a new business identity feels like naming a child.

Every option sounds either too corporate or too casual, too generic or too cute. My legal pad fills with crossed-out attempts: Pin High Simulators, The Golf Box, Virtual Greens, Bay Area Golf (definitely taken), The 19th Hole (taken in seventeen states).

“What about something simple?” my wife suggests, reading over my shoulder. “Westfield Indoor Golf?”

I search it. Domain available. Social handles free. No trademark conflicts. Sometimes simple wins.

But the name is just the beginning of a legal maze that makes me miss the simplicity of working for someone else. Every decision spawns ten more. LLC or corporation? State or federal trademark? What insurance is required versus nice-to-have? How much funding can I realistically secure?

Welcome to the paperwork side of the American dream.

The Zoning Wake-Up Call

Monday morning finds me at City Hall, trying to understand if I can legally do what I’ve already signed a lease to do. The zoning officer, a methodical woman named Denise, pulls up our address on her screen.

“Commercial general, C-2,” she says. “Retail’s fine. Restaurant’s fine with permits. But you’re adding alcohol service?”

“Beer and wine, maybe cocktails.”

Her fingers fly across the keyboard. “That triggers special use permit requirements. Planning commission review. Public hearing. Neighbor notifications.”

“How long?”

“Roughly sixty to ninety days end-to-end; the board meets in three weeks for your first hearing.”

I’ve already ordered simulators with a six-week lead time. The math doesn’t work.

“Prior approvals on this site can help your case,” Denise explains, “because the use is already familiar to the city.” In most jurisdictions, alcohol service requires a new application under the new business entity, with its own background checks and hearings.
Prior tenant approvals may expedite the review, but they don’t transfer automatically.

I begin the city’s process for our own alcohol permit, budget the applicable fees, and leave with a checklist for planning, fire, health, and signage approvals.

“Fire marshal inspection, health department approval, building permits for your modifications, sign permit for exterior changes, and don’t forget the business license.”

Each form requires different information, different fees, different processing times. I create a spreadsheet just to track the paperwork.

The LLC Formation Dance

Ellen, my accountant, meets me at the lawyer’s office. The attorney, Robert, has the kind of organized desk that suggests he bills in six-minute increments.

“Single-member LLC is straightforward,” he says. “Limited liability protection, pass-through taxation, operational flexibility.”

“What’s the downside?”

“You can still be personally liable for negligence. And some banks prefer corporations for lending.”

“But you recommend LLC?”

“For your situation, absolutely. Though I suggest creating an operating agreement even though state law doesn’t require it for single-member LLCs.”

“Why?”

“Banks like documentation. It also helps maintain the corporate veil if anyone ever challenges the limited liability protection.”

The formation itself takes twenty minutes online through the Secretary of State’s website. $125 filing fee. Westfield Indoor Golf, LLC officially exists. But Robert’s not done.

“You need an EIN from the IRS. Business bank account separate from personal. Registered agent for service of process. Annual report filings. State tax registration. Local business license. Workers’ comp insurance even for one employee.”

Each requirement costs money and time. The legal setup that sounded simple—”just form an LLC”—becomes a weeks-long process of forms, fees, and filings.

The Insurance Education

My insurance broker, Kevin, looks like he’s twelve but knows his business. We sit in his office surrounded by photos of him golfing, which feels like a good sign.

“Let’s talk about what kills businesses,” he opens cheerfully. “Lawsuits, mostly.”

He builds our coverage piece by piece:

“General liability, two million per occurrence. Someone slips, trips, gets hit by a golf ball. That’s your foundation.”

“Product liability for the food and alcohol. Food poisoning, over-serving, allergic reactions.”

“Property insurance for your equipment and improvements. Those simulators aren’t covered under the landlord’s policy.”

“Business interruption insurance. If equipment fails or damage closes you for weeks, this covers lost income.”

“Cyber liability. Your booking system gets hacked, customer data stolen.”

“Employment practices liability. Even with three employees, wrongful termination claims happen.”

“Commercial auto if you ever transport equipment or make deliveries.”

The premium quotes make me nauseous: $24,000 annually for comprehensive coverage.

“That seems high,” I manage.

“You’re combining sports, alcohol, and expensive technology,” Kevin explains. “That’s three risk categories insurers hate.”

We spend two hours adjusting deductibles, coverage limits, and exclusions to get the premium to $18,000. Still painful, but Kevin shows me three lawsuits against similar businesses: $800,000 for a customer injured by a flying golf club, $450,000 for a slip-and-fall in the bathroom, $300,000 for wrongful termination.

“Insurance feels expensive until you need it,” he says. “Then it feels cheap.”

The Funding Reality

Tuesday morning, I sit across from three different bankers. Each meeting follows the same script: enthusiasm about the concept, concern about the risk, questions about collateral.

First bank: “We don’t typically fund entertainment ventures.”

Second bank: “SBA loan might work, but we’d need your house as collateral.”

Third bank: “Have you considered bringing in investors?”

The SBA loan officer at the second bank, Gregory, is at least honest about the process.

“Seven-year term, current rate is 11%, personal guarantee required. We’ll need three years of personal tax returns, personal financial statement, business plan, projections, and yes, your house as collateral.”

“What are the chances of approval?”

“With your hospitality experience and 30% equity investment? Maybe 70%. But it’ll take six to eight weeks.”

Six to eight weeks I don’t have. Construction needs to start now.

I explore other options. The equipment financing company offers 15% interest—robbery. Online lenders promise fast funding at 25% APR—insanity. Tom offers to invest, but I know that partnership would end our friendship.

“What about a HELOC?” my wife suggests that evening.

We have enough equity in the house. The rate would be lower. The approval faster. But it puts everything at risk—not just our investment, but our home.

“If this fails, we lose everything,” I point out.

“If we don’t try, we lose ourselves,” she responds.

We apply for both—the SBA loan for the bulk of funding, a home equity line for bridge financing until the SBA comes through. The HELOC approves in five days for $150,000. Enough to start construction and order equipment while waiting for the SBA.

The Domain and Identity Crisis

Securing “westfieldindoorgolf.com” feels like a minor victory until I realize I need matching social media handles. @westfieldindoorgolf is taken on Instagram by someone who posted once three years ago. Facebook has variations available but nothing clean.

I spend an entire evening negotiating with username squatters. Eventually secure @westfieldgolf on most platforms by adding “indoor” to our display names. Not perfect, but workable.

The logo design becomes another rabbit hole. My nephew, who “does graphics,” creates something that looks like clip art from 1995. A professional designer quotes $3,000 for a complete brand package. I find middle ground with a freelancer on Fiverr who delivers something clean and modern for $300.

Trademark search reveals no conflicts for our name and logo in our state. Federal trademark would cost $2,000 and take months. Robert the attorney suggests waiting: “Establish the business first. Federal trademark makes sense once you’re successful.”

The Professional Network Assembly

Each professional I hire reveals two more I need. The attorney recommends a payroll service. The accountant suggests a bookkeeper. The insurance broker mentions a risk management consultant.

I create a professional roster:

  • Attorney: $275/hour (used sparingly)
  • Accountant: $150/month retainer
  • Bookkeeper: $300/month
  • Insurance broker: Commission from carrier
  • Payroll service: $75/month plus per-employee fee
  • IT consultant: $100/hour as needed
  • Marketing consultant: Project basis

The monthly cost of professional services approaches $1,000 before we open. “The cost of doing business right,” Ellen reminds me when I complain.

The Permit Parade

Each permit requires its own dance:

Business license: Simple application, $125, done.

Liquor license: Forty-page application, fingerprinting, background check, $2,400 fee, newspaper publication requirement, sixty-day wait; we plan the soft opening without alcohol if timing slips and use a temporary beer/wine permit the following week.

Health permit: Kitchen inspection, food handler certifications for all staff, $300 annually.

Sign permit: Architectural drawings required, $200, landlord approval needed.

Building permits: Electrical, plumbing, general construction. Paul handles these but needs my signature on everything.

Fire marshal approval: Occupancy limits, exit signs, extinguisher placement, sprinkler system certification.

Music licensing: ASCAP, BMI, and SESAC for background music and TV audio. $3,000 annually combined.

I keep a binder with copies of everything. Patricia at City Hall knows me by name. The fire marshal and I are on texting terms.

The Banking Relationship

Opening a business bank account should be simple. It’s not.

“We need your EIN letter, operating agreement, business license, and initial deposit,” the banker explains.

“How much for the deposit?”

“Our business checking requires $2,500 minimum.”

I write the check, officially separating business and personal finances. The account comes with a credit card (secured initially), merchant services for payment processing, and a dedicated business banker who calls weekly trying to sell additional services.

The discipline of separation proves harder than expected. Every business expense now requires transferring money or using the business card. No more “I’ll figure it out later” purchases. Ellen approves: “Clean books from day one make taxes and analysis much easier.”

The Final Funding Package

Week six brings SBA loan approval: $240,000 at 11% for seven years. The stack of closing documents stands four inches tall. I sign my name 47 times, initial 23 more places, and hand over our house as collateral.

Combined with our savings and the HELOC, we have $397,500 available—$50,000 more than budgeted, which feels both comfortable and terrifying.

“That’s real money,” my wife says as we leave the bank.

“That’s our entire net worth plus borrowed money,” I correct.

“Same thing, different perspective.”

The weight of it settles on my shoulders. Every dollar spent reduces our cushion. Every decision impacts our literal home. The safety net of employment is gone, replaced by the high wire of entrepreneurship.

Three Documents That Matter

By the end of week eight, I have three documents that represent the legal foundation of the business:

  • LLC formation with operating agreement
  • Comprehensive insurance policy
  • SBA loan commitment with funding in place

Each required dozens of supporting documents, hundreds of smaller decisions, thousands of dollars in fees. But they transform the business from idea to legal entity, from risky to insured, from underfunded to capitalized.

“You’re really doing this,” Tom says when I show him the paperwork.

“We’re really doing this,” I correct, thinking of everyone involved—my wife, our professionals, our future employees.

The legal foundation is set. The money is secured. The protections are in place. Tomorrow, Paul starts construction. Equipment orders get placed. The transformation from empty space to business begins.

But tonight, I sit with our insurance policies and loan documents, corporate seal and business licenses, feeling the full weight of what we’ve committed to. Every form signed, every dollar borrowed, every protection purchased leads to the same moment—opening day, when we find out if any of this was worth it.

“Second thoughts?” my wife asks, finding me surrounded by paperwork.

“Third and fourth thoughts,” I admit. “But no turning back thoughts.”

She picks up our LLC certificate, running her finger across the official seal.

“Westfield Indoor Golf, LLC,” she reads. “It’s real now.”

“The paperwork’s real. The business becomes real when the first customer pays to play.”

“Then let’s build something worth paying for.”

I file the last document, close the last binder, and turn off the office light. The legal and financial foundation is complete. Not perfect—we probably over-insured some things and under-protected others. But it’s solid enough to build on.

Tomorrow we start the physical build-out. But tonight, we’ve built something just as important—the legal and financial structure that turns a golf lover’s dream into a legitimate business.

The hardest part isn’t the paperwork or the expense. It’s the commitment each signature represents. No more playing it safe. No more steady paycheck. No more someone else’s problem.

From now on, every problem is mine to solve. Every opportunity is mine to seize. Every risk is mine to take.

The forms are filed. The funds are secured. The foundation is laid.

Time to build something real.

See the guide Jack used: 37 Tips for Starting a Golf Simulator Business

You’ve just finished Chapter 5. In Chapter 6, Jack focuses on the Final Setup needed to get the Golf Simulator Business ready for operation.