🚘 If your business could talk, what would it say?
I asked. Mine replied.
Are we there yet?
Are we there yet?
Are we there yet?
Me: We had a good thing going before the pandemic hit. Didn’t we? Or am I hallucinating? Maybe it wasn’t as good as I remember? Maybe it was always destined to crash . . .
Hey, I had fun taking a flyer on Free Time with you! It’s still fun.
Also: are we there yet?
Is there a rest stop coming up soon?
Don’t you think we’re doing too much?
Me: Maybe, but I’m not sure how to get there right now, so we keep trying these new routes. Let’s pretend they’re “scenic” and enjoy the view.
Where is there, anyway?
Me: There is a modicum of financial security and predictability, even if not full-on abundance and lifestyle comfort, so no, we are not there yet. And yes, I know I am being stubborn as hell about trying to stay aligned with my values and strengths while getting there. And somehow not exhausting myself with all this driving.
Oh, okay, let’s keep going then, I guess. But you stopped caring about numerical goals a long time ago, and yet numbers seem so important to you right now?!
Me: Well, yeah. Numbers are important to the extent they represent a healthy, sustainable business.
So . . . let me get this straight: You want me to help you reach financial stability, produce enough to pay for living in New York City, fund your household, pad your savings, feed your long-term investment and retirement accounts, give money to those in need, spring for fancy meals with friends and vacations with family, upgrade your wardrobe, pay your taxes, fix all the neglected home repairs, cover all the medical procedures you and your family and dog need, and somehow be fun to run? Huh? When did I miss that memo?
Me: Listen, I get it. We’re both cranky. You are in your teenage years, after all, having just turned thirteen. And I am halfway through forty. My body aches and I can’t seem to muster even a minimum amount of willpower to exercise the way I should, even though I know it would do me good.
You’re right. Maybe these are just my hormones talking . . . and the braces with those irritating little colored rubber bands; the nighttime headgear, the frizzy hair; the blurry eyes that need glasses and contact lenses to make out the leaves on the trees; the messy room and crying myself to sleep at night; the worrying about what the cool kids are doing and who makes them cool and how do they just know how to exude effortless indifference like that?
Me: Don’t worry. No one said being thirteen is fun. It’s a transition year.
Hasn’t it been a transition year for five years now?
Anyway, how about you relax a little bit, too—and I’ll cut you some slack for being my lovingly infuriating enigma of an unreliable CEO.
Me: Touché. I suppose we have always pulled through times like this.
Indeed, have faith. Good things coming.1
❤️2
How about you? Weigh in on what yours would say in this month’s Community Doh post:
🎵 My favorite song for moments like this: Nahko’s “Black as Night” (the whole Dark as Night album is wonderful).
Our businesses should be friends.
Oh my goodness, your business as a hormonal 13-year-old! 🤣 There’s some peace in imagining this character to create distance between the business and the self.