I was twelve when I realised I wanted to be a businesswoman.
I just decided to give up a year’s contract at the best football club in the county because I had other ideas. I’d relentlessly watched Dragon’s Den and I was going to be a big dog. By fourteen I was sneaking sweets into the playground and selling them.
But I lacked confidence. I gave up after a few weeks but the fact that I could buy a pack of chocolate bars for £1 and make £2 blew my mind. The entrepreneurial pursuits continued. I was hooked on business.
I bought endless business biographies. I studied them. I came across one of my old books a few months back, there in the back were scribbles on postits summarising my thoughts.
But it was never as simple as I thought
University presented the perfect opportunity to start a business. I had so many ideas and so much time but yet the excuses came thick and fast:
- I didn’t have any experience.
- I didn’t have the money.
Over the years I realised all of that was code for: I didn’t want to try and fail. But like most great lessons, it’s easy to see the writing on the wall in hindsight. As the years passed, I still had an undercurrent of wanting to be an entrepreneur.
And when I was hit by the working corporate world, the desire became unbearable. I’d spend my evenings binging on Gary Vee and sit in meetings the next day wondering what I was doing with my life. The contrast was stark.
Here I was sitting in dismal meetings about stuff I can’t remember, all the while thinking, I could be making something of myself.