by Abed Tau
This presented us with a major problem: on the one hand, we really needed a senior resource (preferably another CA(SA)) but, on the other, we couldn’t afford one. Anyone who wanted the job would have to take a major salary cut – we’re talking up to 50 per cent less than they were currently earning. We planned to make it up to them by giving them profit share – except at that stage there weren’t any profits to share.
We spoke to a few potential candidates, but most were too scared to join our start-up consultancy. I don’t blame them. Back then, we had no systems, no processes, no proprietary know-how, no new way of delivering a solution. We were just a tiny company doing accounting on Excel. All we had going for us were our full hearts and clear eyes, and a driving hunger to succeed. It’s not surprising, then, that we didn’t manage to convince anyone to join us – until one guy, Thuto, decided to take the plunge.
Although Thuto and I had met while we were both completing articles at Deloitte, we weren’t friends at the time. It helped that we shared a common background, though; plus, I had lectured him back in 2010 when I was serving my academic articles at UJ. I met with Thuto at my one-bedroom, 40 square metre flat in Buccleuch – hardly the kind of venue that will convince someone that you are doing so well that they simply have to join you. The funny thing is that Tebz and I were really proud of that flat. We considered the fact that we had managed to buy ourselves an apartment, funded entirely by the business within two short years, to be a major achievement. In all honesty, though, I met Thuto there because I wanted him to know the truth: that we were just at the beginning of our journey, and that there wasn’t very much happening. I would have hated for him to join and later become disillusioned, and to accuse me of selling him a dream.
I had no paperwork, no template of a partnership agreement, nothing but a few Excel models that we stopped using years ago – but, nonetheless, Thuto said yes. I’ve never told him this, but Tebz and I were holding our breath, hoping that he would join. We liked him a lot, and we knew he would be a good fit for our little company.
Thuto proved a bit elusive after that meeting, to the point where we thought that maybe he had chickened out. I remember wondering if I should perhaps have hired some nice furniture just before the meeting, so that it looked as though we were more successful. I don’t blame him for taking the extra time to think things through; after all, it was a big decision – but, on 11 July 2016, he officially became part of our team.
Thuto’s early days with the company were amazing. Today, as I watch him saunter into the office at 10am, I tell him that I miss that old Thuto, who used to arrive at 7am and leave at midnight. It was hard for him, though. He had to adjust to this husband and wife team who had a set way of doing things and had pretty defined roles: Abed was the lazy one, and Tebz always stepped in to save the day (this remains almost unchanged).
Winning business proved an even greater challenge for Thuto. Tebz and I were still struggling with this; if I’m completely honest, we weren’t really sure what to do. We had committed to paying his salary and, although he had agreed to take a significant pay cut from his days as a consultant at Deloitte, it was still hard for Thamani to come up with the money every month. In fact, I was still grappling with the notion of remuneration, because I couldn’t quite figure out whether Thuto was our business partner or our employee. If he was a business partner, why was he earning a fixed salary? What was his risk in the business? What load was he carrying? What had we got ourselves into? And, more than anything, the question that plagued me for months: was Thuto hungry enough?
If I had a lot on my mind, Thuto was probably even more troubled. We were open and honest about the state of the company, and we kept everything transparent. We held regular sales meetings, when I would watch Thuto trying to drum up business by cold calling. Anyone who does this knows that it’s tough stuff. I’ve tried cold calling maybe twice in my life, so I know it to be painful – but, even so, it’s excellent experience. Thuto wasn’t seeing the positive side of it yet, though. Nothing was working for him; although he had made one or two sales he wasn’t even managing to break even.
It was 18 months before he eventually did so. Things were looking bad for him at this point, because we had initially agreed to pay a salary only for his first 12 months. Tebz and I had decided to extend this period by six more months because we didn’t feel it was fair not to but, even so, it was clear that Thuto had a choice to make. He was either going to sink – leave Thamani and look for a job, a decision I would have respected even though it would have made me sad – or he could swim and fight to survive. As I’ve said, it came down to this: just how hungry was he?
I saw Thuto battling to find his own answers. I remember driving with him to an appointment 70 kilometres away, at a point where he had been without a salary for two months. We’d only just left our office when I noticed that his petrol light was flashing. I was so tempted to pay him a salary because it pained me to see him struggling like this, but I resisted the urge. I knew that this was the entrepreneur’s life. In fact, you can’t really call yourself an entrepreneur unless you have left your car on the side of the road while you’ve walked to the nearest petrol station to buy enough petrol to fill a two litre bottle. Things got even worse for him a month later, when he called me to tell me that he was so short on cash that he’d been forced to swipe our business card to pay for petrol. By now he had lost all pride, and had given up all pretences. More than that, he was completely naked. And he was very, very hungry.
Tebz and I had been waiting for this, secretly cheering him on from the sidelines and hoping for a kind of magic that would make him evolve into an even better, stronger version of himself.
And that’s pretty much what happened. Thuto started winning business, big business. In 2018 he brought in eight times the revenue he made during the previous year – and his figures continue to grow. It’s incredible to see. More than this, he’s become a great mate.
I once read that someone can only be considered a true leader if they’re able to create more leaders. I think the same holds true of entrepreneurs: you can only really consider yourself an entrepreneur if you help to nurture other entrepreneurs. While Tebz and I can’t claim the success of Thuto or Dylan as our own, I would like to believe we had a very small role to play in their movies; a cameo of sorts.
I often say that there are only two types of people who go on to change the world: people who are deeply inspired to address what’s wrong with modern society, or people who have no choice, because they live with poverty and hunger. Of course, the two aren’t mutually exclusive, and sometimes people are driven by both needs. When that happens, they’re literally unstoppable.
Most of us don’t achieve this kind of impact, because very few people think beyond their own existence; if their family’s fed, their children are safe, and their parents are happy, then all is right with their world. It takes a rare individual to extend these concerns beyond their immediate families, to their neighbours, their communities, and the rest of the country. Because so few of us have the kind of drive that motivates the deeply inspired, I’m going to focus instead on people who are hungry. Of course, hunger leaves you naked and exposed, and although neither of those are desirable states, people who can channel the resulting discomfort into the right energy are able to harness a truly incredible power and go on to achieve amazing results, whatever their sphere of influence.
To conclude, I have witnessed first-hand what a little hunger and the right focus can do. I often tell Thuto and Nathan that I wish they could have known me when we first started the business. I wish they could have seen Tebz and me when we were forced to move back to our respective homes where, even with our measly salaries, we were the breadwinners. I wish they could have seen the blow-up mattress I slept on; I wish they’d seen our little flatlet. I wish they could have known what it was like to live off the R3 000 salaries we paid ourselves. I wish they could have seen me wor
rying about how I would make my car payments, and the anxiety that the bank would come to repossess the car. I wish they could see how many people we met with in the hope that we would convince them to sign on as a client. More than anything, I wish they could see how hungry we were. I don’t wish the struggles of my first two years in business on anyone, but I do wish that everyone could experience real hunger and the desire to succeed.
Dylan found himself in a similar situation. He didn’t have a salary when he decided to leave employment. Today, he admits that his then-fiancée had agreed that he could have one year to try out this entrepreneur thing but, if it didn’t work out during this time, he would have to go back into a job.
Our hunger is the one thing that carries us all through when we’re battling. Because we still battle – a lot, even after all this time. In fact, as the years pass, it becomes ever clearer that entrepreneurship is certainly not for everyone. Although we all hope that it is for us, we know that we’re not perfect, that we don’t have the answers and that we are still learning. When we stumble through those lessons, it’s our hunger to change our world, to play a part in alleviating poverty and maybe enjoy some success along the way that forces us to get up again.
Whether you’re an aspirant entrepreneur or have already started your own business, please don’t view this chapter as an encouragement to give away all your money so that you can experience some of that hunger (albeit self-induced). Know, though, that it will inevitably make an appearance during your journey, and when it does, how you react to it will make all the difference. Will it make you sink, or will you swim? Are you hungry enough?
Stay foolish, stay hungry – but please remember that the foolishness should be figurative and only the hunger should be literal!
Stay hungry,
Stay foolish.
CHAPTER 22
EVERY DAY IS THE SUPER BOWL
I left South Africa for the first time when I was 25 (yes, I’m a late bloomer). It was 2013, and I was off to big, bright America on a three-month international secondment. Ever watch the Eddie Murphy movie Coming to America? Well, that was me – except that I was no African prince; just a normal kid who thought that I’d be offered KFC or Chicken Licken on the plane. (Admittedly, I didn’t even know that planes had different classes. I just stepped on board and thought, damn, look at all this space. That was until I arrived at my seat, middle centre as Zama Zama used to say – and me with my weak bladder.)
The flight was an adventure. I was supposed to have a nine-hour layover in Heathrow but, as it turned out, our plane out of South Africa was delayed by nine hours. Being spared the layover was a good thing; not so good, though, was that my luggage obviously didn’t make the trip, and I was told that it would arrive only in 15 hours’ time. I got a quick introduction to carry-on requirements as a result: nothing I could do except change my clothes and pack some toiletries, making sure that nothing exceeded 100ml. I’d already had to part with my camphor cream and the green Sunlight brick no black person will travel without at O. R. Tambo International Airport.
And then it was on to Philadelphia, the City of Brotherly Love. And what an experience that was. Apart from having no luggage, I couldn’t find my airport transfer. I had to figure things out by myself – not an easy task when you consider the logistics of navigating a foreign city. I had to find a taxi and, even harder, find the funds to pay for a fare I hadn’t budgeted for (at one point, I even considered getting out and walking, especially when I saw that trip meter was reading 25:52. All along I had thought this was the time, until I remembered that there are only 24 hours in a day).
I’m happy to say that it all turned out well. I found my apartment, my luggage arrived and America was great, just as grand as anything I’d seen in the movies. I had a lot of fun, but one of the things that fascinated me most was the American Super Bowl. I landed in America just in time for this event, which I was particularly eager to see after some guys at work told me it’s the biggest thing on earth; a phenomenon that brings the entire country to a stop. I couldn’t tell you which two teams played in the final that year, but I know that Beyoncé was the main attraction for the half-time show. And if Tebz’s enthusiasm is anything to go by, that’s a huge deal.
I had to agree with Tebz and my colleagues. Super Bowl is nothing short of unbelievable, like nothing I had experienced before. It made the derby back home look like a non-event. It was massive; a countrywide pre- occupation. It was the only thing that people spoke about during that time. Companies spent millions of dollars to get just 30 seconds’ exposure for their brands during Super Bowl, and those ads were insane. The spend was worth it – people discussed those ads for weeks after the Super Bowl.
Of course, the hype around the ads was nothing compared to the excitement surrounding the participating teams. It was literally a case of do or die for both teams. Both were representing their home state, and both came onto the field with just one thought in mind: to win. This moment was the pinnacle of their sporting careers. It’s a big deal to play in the Super Bowl final, but actually winning? That’s the greatest thing on earth, so you can understand the importance of the final. This is it: the Big One. There’s no more practice, no rehearsals. It’s time to Show Up.
The thing is, I feel like every day is Super Bowl Day when you own a business. Sure, you might not have Beyoncé twerking at you during your lunch break, but you’re the Beyoncé of your own show. You’re just like those players facing each other in the final: You have no option but to show up, to put on your suit and tie (metaphorically speaking, of course; you know I don’t think it takes a suit and tie to be a good businessperson), to give your best.
In fact, compared to the entrepreneur, those Super Bowl players have it easy. They have to face the pressure for only one day of the year; for the entrepreneur, it’s 365 days of sweat, hard knocks and exhaustion.
There’s no option, though. I’ve learned that you simply have to give it your all, every day; no surrender, no retreat. No matter how hard it is, you have to keep going until you taste that sweet victory. They’re not always big victories, mind you, but even small gains are worth celebrating. We have to fight for every inch, every day, because in the end, it’s those small inches that take you closer to your goal.
Every day is game day. Every day is the Super Bowl final.
CHAPTER 23
THE OPPORTUNE TIME TO START
According to a TED Talk by Bill Gross on why businesses fail, most start-ups fall prey to the following factors:
poor execution,
lack of funding,
team dynamics,
a poor concept and,
most important of all,
poor timing.
This is usually because the timing for the idea or business isn’t right. But here’s my question: timing is such a complex issue, so how do you know when you’ve found the opportune moment?
Sadly, the answer is: never. There is no such thing as the right time.
My friends often tell me that they’ve been waiting for the longest time until they start their business. They’re holding off because the timing isn’t right. Maybe they need to pay off the car, or their kids need to finish primary school before they take the risk, or they’re waiting for their wife to get settled in her new job, or they need a promotion so that they can start saving up for a nest egg which will give them a cushion when they finally decide to leave …
The reality is that you’ll never run out of milestones that you need to pass before you set up your own business. As soon as you overcome one hurdle, you’ll invent another one. So you may manage to pay off the car, but then you’ll pick up a mortgage. Once the kids finish primary school, you’ll send them to a private high school with crippling monthly fees … This continues throughout your life.
You see, businesses and start-ups don’t work on our clock. Your ideas are not sitting in a vault that you, and you alone
, have the ability to open. While you’re waiting for the perfect moment to get started, there is a 16-year-old working on your idea from his mom’s garage. And even if he hasn’t yet perfected it, he’s at least got a headstart on the mistakes and lessons you’ll have to learn when you eventually get going – and make no mistake, this isn’t like catching up on yesterday’s homework. This kind of learning cannot be replicated.
I believe that no amount of funding can beat experience. Think about it: imagine you’ve come up with an idea to create a machine that freezes and chills food in minutes – kind of like a microwave, but in reverse. You start working on prototypes from the instant the idea hits you, and although several of your attempts come to nothing, you learn enough from the ones that don’t work to make tweaks and corrections. Now, compare that to someone who has the same idea, but sits on it, doing nothing, for the ten years it takes to find funding. Who’s going to be further ahead in the race? You simply can’t cheat time and experience.
As we get older, we pick up responsibilities as a matter of course: car instalments, mortgages, credit cards, children, an irrepressible urge to holiday overseas twice a year … While many of these trappings cannot be avoided, they’re also great excuses for why the opportune time for starting your business has not yet presented itself. That’s why I believe it’s easier to start a business when you’re young: usually, you haven’t yet accumulated too many expenses.
I’m not saying that you can’t start a business when you’re older. In fact, there are lots of advantages to becoming an entrepreneur once you’ve gained a few years’ experience. You’re wiser, you’ve had time to build strong connections, you may even have found a mentor and can access people who will be able to accelerate your growth and help you find customers. But it’s also going to involve a greater effort and more sacrifice. Remember when you were in high school and you could eat McDonald’s every day of the week, but you never put on weight because you played sport at every opportunity? Now that you’re older, things don’t work quite the same way. It’s not enough to keep active; you’ve also got to lay off the McDonald’s and carbs if you want to lose just a few grams.
