It was my job as a Shell Oil Company sales manager to organize 1975âs gala trade show for our Minnesota service station dealers. Instead of a run-of the-mill hall, I booked a high-end Minneapolis hotel. What do you know, the upgrade worked: We doubled our sales goal. But my district manager, âJohn,â chewed me out for modestly exceeding the eventâs bud get. I protested that I had still netted a huge profit for Shell. âIt doesnât matter,â John spit. âYou were still over your expense bud get!â Hello? On what planet do profits not matter? As John stormed away and left me fuming, I thought, I canât take this garbage, Iâve gotta think about starting my own company.
Shell had planted the seed earlier in the year when execs poured cold water on my entrepreneurial impulse. I had seen a new era dawning for the oil industry when the Minnesota State Legislature legalized self-service gas stations. After researching the market possibilities, I designed a plan that seems obvious today for Shell station owners to convert one of their full-service pump islands over to self-service. Increased volume, I calculated, would more than offset Shellâs share of conversion costs. Management yawned and said the self-service concept was probably a flash-in-the-pan trend. It was laughable, they added, to think that self-serve would catch on in the Minnesota tundra. End of discussion. Turns out it wasnât such of a leap to think that Minnesotans, who sit for hours on a frozen lake staring into a fishing hole in the ice, would happily don a parka for cheaper gas.
Two months after the trade show fiasco, my entrepreneurial engine was back in high gear. My boss, John, had scored football tickets to the big December clash between the Minnesota Vikings and the Green Bay Packers. A Packers fan, he asked me to book his hotel roomâa presidential suite complete with fresh flowers and champagneâand put it on my expense account. With thousands of rabid Packers fans streaming into the Twin Cities, rooms were scarce. But I had a good relationship with a hotel near the stadium and managed to book precisely what John requested. A few weeks after the game (the Vikes ruled, 24â3), John held a sales meeting and announced a new corporate austerity program. It included a crackdown on expense accounts. After the meeting, I walked up and joked to John that it was a good thing the new policy didnât apply to the football weekend. John looked me in the eye and said, âGod, Iâm sorry, but it does,â and walked away. Nothing more. I was stunnedâand wound up paying $750 for Johnâs weekend getaway (thatâs more than $2,800 in 2007 dollars, a big hit for a young family of four). Strike three; Iâm outta there.
A few months later, I resigned to start Tires Plus. To be sure, my eight-year apprenticeship at Shell Oil was invaluable. Met a lot of good people, learned a lot of skills. But the plodding bureaucracy, risk phobia, and office politics were warping my idealism and enthusiasm. I was working in a Dilbert cartoon.
If youâre running your own show, you can relate to the urge to ditch the out-of-touch boss, the tone-deaf bureaucracy, corporate Americaâs myopic obsession on quarterly numbers. You and I, we wonder: How do so many people endure soul-draining offices? Weâre not cut out to work for somebody else. We want more control of our destiny. Weâre not afraid of hard work. We get excited about valuing entrepreneurship, ingenuity, and fairnessâunder a shingle that we hang ourselves. Most important, deep down, we possess a certaintyâpart confidence, part arrogance, part naĂŻvetĂ©âthat weâve got what it takes to make it on our own.
Nodding your head? The next seven chapters describe what the early days need to look like if you want to succeed. Thereâs a swarm of things to anticipate. Iâll take you from wannabe entrepreneur to confident, informed start-up chief. Even if youâre well underway, think of these chapters like a computerized scope hooked up to your car engine, detecting problems that you can fix now in order to avoid costly breakdowns later.
Call me naĂŻve. It never occurred to me that my new business might fail.
Hey, this was me weâre talking about. Tom Gegax. Four-sport high-school hotshot. Rising star at Shell Oilâearning promotions like compliments at the prom, tooling around town in a company car, illuminating for service-station managers the finer points of running their businesses. I knew it all.
In reality, I had no idea what I was about to do to myselfâand to my family. Oh sure, my wife, Jan, and I had talked it through: Should I stay or should I go? Jan was supportive, telling me that I knew best whether I was up to the challenge. Of course I was. So I took the leapâand landed chest-deep in the proverbial creek, with the rapids rising fast.
Donât get me wrong: Iâm glad I went out on my own. I just wish I had better anticipated the toll it would take. If I had been as prepared as youâll be after reading these pages, I wouldâve dealt better with the inevitable crises that flew my wayâand dodged many of them altogether.
Entrepreneurial types are apt to jump the starting gun. That pedal-to the-metal mind-set is one of our greatest strengths. But it can also be our Achillesâ heel. In our zeal to conquer the business world, we may disregard or overlook these critical start-up issues.
Before starting Tires Plus, I cased the stores I would compete against. I picked the brain of a tire-distributor friend. I lured five buddies over for beers and a focus group. That was it, that was the extent of my market research. I was somewhat familiar with the industry after working for Shell, but I got lucky. If I tried that nonchalance in todayâs hyper-competitive marketplace, youâd find me scampering back to Corporate America faster than you could say âgoing-out-of-business sale.â Whether youâre starting a retail store, a whol...