Paul Alirangues knew it was all coming to an end when the PSE&G man arrived at his organic food shop in downtown North Plainfield.

The business owner, who had fallen behind on his utility bills, was serving two new customers when the uniformed technician strolled in. Alirangues’ heart sank.

"Sorry to tell you, but we’re closing," he told his customers. "He’s here to turn the power off."

And so, earlier this month, less than two years after Alirangues and his wife risked their life savings to open Organigaya Café — a gamble they took during the worst recession in decades — they pulled the plug on their dream.

The couple now faces $110,000 of debt from the business and another $20,000 on their credit cards. They are considering filing for personal bankruptcy and plan to put the store up for sale this week, with an asking price of $80,000.

"We did what we could," said Alirangues, 47. "But I couldn’t do anything to help the business because I was too busy watching every single penny we were spending."

After The Star-Ledger published an article in May documenting the couple's struggles over the course of 16 months, sales spiked to a record $10,000 the following month, he said. Customers flooded in from all parts of the state, eager to try Organigaya's homemade meals and shop for organic milk, yogurt, nuts, granola bars and coffee. Encouraged, the couple promptly invested in more inventory and part-time help.

Just as quickly as sales rose, however, they dwindled, leaving the Alirangueses helpless in the face of growing debt. Then, in July, Kevin Polly, the friend and plumber who rescued the business from the brink of closure earlier this year, announced he was not lending any more money. He had already invested $54,000 in just six months.

Paul Alirangues felt betrayed and pleaded with his friend to stick it out another month. But Polly, 52, said he could no longer afford to invest in a venture that was unprofitable and would probably continue to lose money for a long time.

"There was really no point in going on," Polly said last week. "At some point you have to realize it’s not going to be profitable, and there’s no chance of it, and you’re not going to put more money into it."

Polly accepts he may never get his money back, and that his friendship with Alirangues may never be the same. But he still counts himself relatively lucky.

"Paul has way more to lose than I do, and that’s sad," Polly said. "You don’t want to see anybody hurt."

In a sense, Organigaya Café’s story is not all that unique. Only seven in 10 businesses new businesses survive the first two years, and just five in 10 make it to the five-year mark, according to the U.S. Small Business Administration.

Many startups fail because because of poor planning, experts said. Brick-and-mortars like Organigaya Café need particularly sound financial strategies because they have higher overhead costs, said Vince D’Elia, a regional director for the New Jersey Small Business Development Centers.

"They went into a business that is heavily supported by inventory, in a niche market and at a time when most people were looking to cut costs," D’Elia said. "Doing the legwork ahead of time might have revealed that this venture may not have flown."

But D’Elia, who has spent nearly two decades counseling entrepreneurs and small-business owners at the Bergen Community College center, concedes it’s always easier to say in hindsight.

"The only way to learn about starting a business, unfortunately, is to get into it, and there are a lot of pitfalls," he said. "If it was very easy, no one would work for corporations."

Business owners should also know when to cut their losses, said Gail Rosen, the Alirangueses’ former accountant. From the very beginning, Rosen had warned the couple against building the business too quickly. She had urged them to start Organigaya Café as an online venture.

"There’s a lot of great ideas out there, but unfortunately you need a model that makes you a net profit," said Rosen, who stopped working for the couple in May when they could no longer afford to pay her. "You have to make a living. You’re not in this for charity."

In the meantime, the couple is focusing on survival. Paul Alirangues has taken on clerical work, for $12.50 an hour, while his wife continues to work as an administrative assistant for Summit-based pharmaceutical Celgene. They depend on her parents to pay some of their utility bills. They know they may be saddled with debt for years.

"At least we tried," said Loretta Alirangues, 49. "We knew this was a risk, we knew this could happen."

But Paul Alirangues still visits the shuttered store every day, hoping to catch a few phone calls for catering services.

He vacillates between defeat and optimism. Some days he talks about selling the store and paying off his debt. Other days, he dreams about expanding the catering side of the business and re-opening Organigaya Café by next spring.

"Selling the store is not something I want to do," he said. "My goal is to try and re-open it. I don’t know if it will happen, but we’re going to try."

Follow Star-Ledger reporter Leslie Kwoh on Twitter: @lesliekwoh