As Toronto grapples with rising unemployment rates that could make even a motivational speaker cry, many residents are channeling their inner entrepreneurs. Gone are the days when a “side hustle” meant whipping up artisanal soaps in your garage; these days, it’s more like a full-time gig just to afford avocados on toast. Enter Gerard Quasay—a 24-year-old civil engineering student who has traded in his textbooks for a shovel, founding a pet waste removal service aptly named ScoopyPoo. Because apparently, someone has to clean up the aftermath of our furry friends’ backyard escapades.
“We were struggling to find part-time jobs, and let’s face it, my siblings and I were nearly broke enough to audition for a reality show on financial despair,” Quasay confessed to blogTO, his humility almost outweighing the absurdity of his mission. With his peers fretting about their majors and while doing math in their heads to figure out how to make rent, Quasay saw an opportunity lurking in the bushes—well, more like under the piles of doggy doo.
How bad is the situation in the city? The unemployment rate hangs around a mediocre 8.9 percent, which to some is just a statistic, but to Quasay and many others, it feels like the universe audibly laughing at the cost of tuition. “I needed to make some extra cash for my brother’s schooling—we all know how tuition can drain your bank account faster than a Tinder date,” he said while plotting the financial future of his family.
After all, why exhaust yourself over textbooks when there’s a veritable gold mine of *ahem* “organic waste” just waiting to be tackled? The brainwave hit Gerard during the dreaded spring melt, when all the secret winter surprises left behind by his new puppy saw the light of day. “I thought, ‘What if other dog owners are wallowing in their own backyard horror shows?'” Yes, folks, Savvy Sisters & Brothers, ScoopyPoo was born not out of genius, but sheer necessity—and probably a dash of desperation.
So, armed with rakes, disinfectants, and a healthy dose of sibling teamwork (thanks to his sister’s social media savvy), they turned this niche idea into a reality. Their initial fears of judgment—because nothing says “cringe” like a family business dedicated to poop—quickly dissipated when the community responded with open arms and slightly turned noses. “We didn’t realize the demand was so high. Apparently, dog owners were not only aware of their yards but were actively seeking assistance. Who knew?” he mused, pleased that their awkward business proposal didn’t turn into a viral fail video.
Although their venture ignited like a wildfire through the community, it wasn’t without its trials. “There were moments when I thought I should just turn back into a student and let my finance woes tackle me in the traditional way—via debt,” Quasay admitted. But as support flooded in from locals, it became all the motivation they needed to shovel their way through piles of negativity—sometimes literally. “Imagine scooping poop in the cold, armed only with a flashlight at night. Talk about a budding entrepreneur’s rite of passage,” he chuckled.
Fast forward to today, and ScoopyPoo has gone from the whimsical idea of a side gig to a full-fledged lifestyle. Their initial plan of providing one-time cleanups has morphed into a thriving business as clients began to demand weekly services. But hey, when you’re saving the world—one poop bag at a time—who has time to sit back and rest? They even dream big, looking to awaken the sleepy Toronto populace to unite in the fight against littered dog waste in public spaces. “One day, we hope to go to city hall and tell them about our poop problem. They won’t be able to ignore us forever!”
