Steven was near sixty-five years old and slouched in his sofa chair, I was twenty-one and slouched on the wooden stool that was two seats away from him. Steven had earned the right to slouch in his couch, I needed to sit up, be as erect and hard as an oak. The night was raining, it was warm inside, coffee was provided, as were sufficient candles to keep the atmosphere comfortable.
The seven of us were through with our introductions and the first to volunteer was Steven–Steve, is it all right if I call you Steve?
Steve’s fine.
Steve began to talk about his exit strategy. Steve wasn’t running his business anymore, the business was owning him. Twenty years punching numbers and now he wanted to retire with his wife, finally build that second bathroom in their house on Lake Calhoun. Steve wanted out of the work, but not out of the business. The business was his, it was his baby – now a kid all grown up and going off to college – Steve still wanted to take care of the place, but he didn’t want to be there anymore. So, how would Steve be able to make sure his business ran smoothly without him ever being there, or, at least, without his eagle’s eye watch over the place?
Steve would implement systematic processes that were predictable for new employees to accomplish, so he wouldn’t have to do all, or any, of the work. The business was dictating him, Steve’s life was in chaos, but now he was dictating his own schedule. Steve used the word “proud” to describe his feelings towards his exit strategy.
The next person to tell their story was Janet: platinum blond, early forties, she had just quit her job in what she had described as “the corporate world”, whatever kind of job she did there, I didn’t give a shit, after fifteen years in this “corporate world” she had gotten fed up.
It just wasn’t for me.
Yeah, took you fifteen years to figure that out, eh?
Well, I had to have kids–
Shut up, cunt.
Janet’s turn to talk about her venture into the realty business and her pitch to prospective franchisees.
As far as I was concerned I was done, the night was over, I took a shot of Nyquil out of my backpack, poured that green mulch into my coffee and drank it to the last gulp.
