Ten years ago this month, I was about to take the biggest risk of my life: starting my own business. And I was doing so with a mix of excitement and exhilaration, along with a healthy dose of fear and terror.
It was also kind of bittersweet. I was leaving a firm where I had formed so many important relationships and I had literally learned everything I had known up until then about this business, having started as a complete schlep.
I wasn’t just any schlep, though; I was the boss’ son, which always complicated things. I always felt I needed to prove something. I never wanted anyone to think I was handed anything. And was constantly fighting the urge to prove everyone wrong, including the boss.
I always had the bug to start my own business. I’m not totally sure why. Maybe it was the entrepreneurial bug that I always read about? Or just the idea of running my own business? Or not having to take orders?
But I do remember thinking that I wanted to be able to do whatever I wanted to do and wanted more freedom to escape from regular work hours.
And despite my confidence (or complete ignorance, depending on …read more