Nurturing the natural entrepreneurial spirit

This post originally appeared on an older blog, MarketingIdeaBlog.com. I am re-publishing it here because I believe the information is not only still valuable, but because it can help readers better understand my approach to business communication.

When I was 40, I learned to ride a motorcycle. It wasn’t difficult to learn, but there did come a point where I hit a roadblock. I was doing something wrong which caused me – twice – to drop the bike at slow speed, when pulling away from a stop sign. It totally blew my confidence, even though I was a licensed rider. It took me months of talking about the problem and reading and getting encouragement from other women riders online – all of this while not riding at all – to finally figure out the problem.

And then, the time came to get back on the bike. My husband rode my bike for me to the high school parking lot and my daughter tagged along. I found myself sitting on the bike with the shifter in neutral, exhaust rumbling, and tears running down my face. Scared that I was going to drop my beautiful bike again, and fail at something I really wanted to do. My self-talk went something like this:

“Self, you can either do this, or not. It’s up to you. But you have to decide. If you’re not going to do it, you have to sell the bike. And you know what? You CAN do it. You’ve already done it. You have a license that proves you know how to do it. You just have to drop that shifter into first and roll forward. Just go.”

As I sat there, I happened to look over at my daughter, sitting on the curb and poking a stick around in the dirt. Perfectly happy to spend her Saturday watching me go in circles in a parking lot. And I thought, “If I give up just because this is really hard, what does she learn?”

My desire to set a good example, to be a lesson in perserverence in the face of uncertainty, won out. I pulled in the clutch, dropped into first gear, and rolled forward. After an hour-long practice session in the parking lot, including plenty of turns from a stop, I hit the streets – newly confident and ready to ride. And I haven’t dropped the bike since. Well, at least not for the same reason.

I share this story because being an entrepreneur is a little like learning to ride a motorcycle at age 40. You understand the risk, and take it anyway. You realize that we don’t just persevere for ourselves, but also for the example it sets for others – including our kids.

Have you noticed that kids seem to be born with the entrepreneurial spirit? With the desire to be self-sufficient? It manifests itself in lemonade stands, lawn-mowing gigs and babysitting jobs. But somewhere along the way, that spirit gets – if not crushed, certainly back-seated to the notion of working for someone else. That a job is stability, and that owning a business is crazy-talk.

As a business owner, you have a unique opportunity to nurture your kids’ natural sense of entrepreneurship. To show them that their talents and interests hold at least as much potential as that job at McDonald’s. As summer approaches, what will you do to teach at home what’s not being taught at school: that entrepreneurialism is at least as rewarding as building a career with an employer – and in many ways, moreso? That risk – especially calculated risk – is good? That sometimes, you just have to take that leap of faith and roll forward?

How you fire someone can impact your brand

Have you ever been fired? Or had to fire someone? Let me tell you, it sucks. It sucks regardless of which side of the desk you’re on. I’ve had three experiences with being fired, and they all sucked.

The first time, the entire staff of a small ad agency was called into the conference room and the President read a statement which began, “We are forced to cut our staffing by half. The following seven people are fired…” I survived that one, but took on the duties of two other people in addition to my own work.

The second time, my job was eliminated and my employer offered me a clerical position that came with a 30 percent pay cut. I took the “consolation job” and hung in there for a year.

The third time, my position was eliminated in a re-organization effort and I was escorted to the door by a security guard, told to make an appointment to come back and get my personal belongings, and given a small severance package.

When making a decision to leave a company, employees are always counseled not to “burn bridges.” Sure it would be satisfying to holler “Take this job and shove it!” on the way out the door, but that rarely bodes well when you need a reference in the future.

Well I think the same goes for the business owner or manager: when you are forced to let someone go, don’t burn the bridge with undignified or insensitive methods. You are the leader, after all, and leadership isn’t always easy.

If you treat people decently – which you will do if you take even five minutes to think about and understand the impact your decision is having on their lives – they may just continue to sing your praises even after they’re gone. Treat them like crap, and you may find that while customers speak highly of you, past employees denegrate you repeatedly in their daily conversations. And that sort of “word of mouth” gets around just as quickly as the kind spread by customers. Maybe faster, given the “small world” nature of peoples’ personal and professional networks.

Being a “good company” is not just about good customer service – it’s about good and fair treatment of those who commit to you their time and talents. In short, how you fire someone impacts your brand and you should take the time and trouble to make sure you have a process that meets your needs as an employer but that’s fair and dignified.

Am I right for the job?

The cooler temperatures, the bright blue skies, and the early-falling leaves this week tell me that Autumn is in the air. Another sure sign: I’m craving apple crisp. And not just any apple crisp, but “quick apple crisp” from my Pampered Chef cookbook. In fact it would be closer to the truth to admit that I don’t just crave Quick Apple Crisp in the Fall – I actually crave the whole Pampered Chef experience.

The Pampered Chef is a direct-sales company founded in 1980 by Doris Christopher, who at that time was a stay-at-home-mom and former home economics teacher. Doris sold the company for a bajillion dollars in 2000 to investor Warren Buffett’s Berkshire Hathaway. She currently serves the company as Chairman. Pampered Chef products are sold by individual consultants via the in-home party method, and consultants earn money not only by selling products but also by recruiting, training and guiding new consultants to their own successes.

In the late 1990’s and again in the early 2000’s, I was a Pampered Chef consultant. I thoroughly enjoyed almost every aspect of working for this company. I loved the story behind the founding of the company. I loved the principles upon which the company was built. I loved setting up “kitchen shows” in my friends’ homes and showing them how easy it was to prepare simple and delicious recipes for their families. I loved using the products. I loved going to training meetings. I didn’t even mind doing the paperwork for each show once it all was computerized and I didn’t have to do manual math to tally my orders.

If I could have gotten over my one stumbling block, I would have loved to become a Director for this company, recruiting and training new consultants and coaching them in the marketing of their own businesses.

But there was one aspect of the job I didn’t like: I found it very difficult to convince people to be “kitchen show” hostesses. My first six shows – the six I needed to complete my “new consultant commitment” – were hosted by personal friends and family members. Each of them invited people from their own personal and professional networks to attend a show, and what should have happened was that a few of the people at each show should have volunteered to host a show in their home, with me as their consultant. The problem was that often, no one wanted to host a show. And I was extremely uncomfortable pressuring them into doing so.

As any Pampered Chef (or any other direct sales) consultant will tell you, a consultant without hostesses is pretty much dead in the water.

Let me be clear: I don’t blame The Pampered Chef for this shortfall. It was a classic case of not having the right personality for a key part of the job.

So here’s my challenge for you this week, coming as it does from personal experience: take a good look at the parts of your job or your business that you aren’t well suited for (c’mon, you know there’s one or two), and consider how you might ask for help in overcoming those weaknesses. And then, invest in yourself the time and money it will take to solve the problem. Or, consider whether it’s time to bring someone else into the business who can fill that role for you.

Lessons from lost opportunity

This post originally appeared on an older blog, MarketingIdeaBlog.com. I am re-publishing it here because I believe the information is not only still valuable, but because it can help readers better understand my approach to business communication.

In 1996, I launched the website for my creative services company, then called The Ad Shop Plus. It was my “showpiece” web development effort, bringing together my very best (at the time) strategic, creative, planning and design skills.

One day I was browsing through an issue of Home Office Computing magazine, and saw that they were seeking nominations for a column called “Sites We Like” in which they would offer up the websites of small and home-based businesses as examples of good web strategy. I submitted my site for consideration and went about my life.

Over the next few months I decided that my business name was too limiting (possibly even hokey) and did not accurately reflect my range of professional services. I prepared to change the name to Green & Company Creative Services. I had a name-change plan, a budget and a timeline in place, and a new website all ready to launch, when I got the call from HOC. That’s right, I was one month away from changing my name (from redefining my business!) and they wanted to feature my old identity.

My options were to decline the feature, since my company info would be completely different by the time the magazine hit the stands and re-submit the new site for future consideration; or, to hold off my name change until after the article had run and reap the rewards of free publicity in a major magazine that targeted my small business clientele.

I chose the former. I thanked the reporter profusely for her interest and told her I would let her know when my new site launched. I followed up a few weeks later with a personal note to her, giving her the new URL, but I never heard another word.

I realized pretty quickly what I had sacrificed: An opportunity to establish credibility in web development on a national scale, in front of an audience I truly needed to reach, for the chance to shed my old identity a few months sooner. I now believe that this was a major mistake. It certainly took the joy out of using that cool new letterhead I’d designed.

I tell this story because good lessons sometimes come from our less-than-stellar moments, and because it illustrates why agility is so important. I was small enough to be nimble – to veer off the name-change course just long enough to grab a HUGE fistful of credible publicity – but I was blinded by the notion of sticking to my plan. And in so doing, lost a golden opportunity to grow my business.