Originally posted – Oct 30, 2013
“The price of anything is the amount of life you exchange for it.”
Henry David Thoreau
American Author, Poet and Philosopher
I would estimate that there are – give or take – about 35,000 self-service laundries within the United States. I would also bet that the vast majority of their owners constantly take their businesses extremely seriously.
Having been a laundry machinery distributor for almost 30 years, I most certainly have met my share of laundry owners, so I know full well that most are a serious lot.
They are extremely focused on their businesses because it’s often their total livelihood. It has a persistent financial overhead. They have to manage employees. They are responsible for the advertising, promotion and maintaining a good (and hopefully growing) market share. The list of concerns is long.
That’s a lot of stuff to deal with.
Most likely, no rationally thinking person who ever owned a business has referred to being self-employed as a cake walk. Therefore, when your life’s “odometer”starts to show some serious mileage (better yet, before), it’s a good time to re-evaluate your priorities. This is critical because you cannot lead a truly satisfying life devoid of some significant regrets that can’t be changed without grasping the notion that you belong to something larger and more long lasting than yourself and your business.
In other words, it’s about putting your priorities into a healthy perspective.
The richest experiences in our lives don’t occur when you are fighting for business validation, but when you are focused on things that truly matter in the service of a cause far greater than your immediate business self.
A great anecdote appearing in best-selling author Daniel Pink’s latest book on human motivation perfectly illustrates this point:
Legend has it that, in 1962, Clare Boothe Luce, one of the first women to serve in the U.S. Congress, offered some advice to President John F. Kennedy. She told him that a great man “is one sentence.”
Abraham Lincoln’s sentence was: “He preserved the Union and freed the slaves.” Franklin Roosevelt’s sentence was: “He lifted us out of the Great Depression and helped us win a World War.” Luce feared that Kennedy’s attention was so splintered among different priorities that his sentence risked becoming a muddled paragraph.
Of course, you don’t have to be the President of the United States to learn from this tale. One way to orient your life toward a greater purpose is to think about your sentence. Maybe it’s: “He raised four kids who became happy, healthy adults.” Or, “she invented a device that made peoples’ lives easier.” Or, “he cared for every person who walked into his office, regardless of whether or not they could pay.” Or, “she taught two generations of children how to read.”
As you contemplate your purpose, ask yourself the big question: “What’s my sentence?”
Author Barry Schwartz – in his book, “Paradox of Choice”- says it well when he writes, “Unlike other negative emotions – anger, sadness, disappointment, even grief – what is so difficult about regret is the feeling that the regrettable state of affairs could have been avoided by you, if only you had chosen differently.”
Or, consider the classic rock hit, “Against the Wind,” where Bob Seger laments, “I wish I didn’t know now what I didn’t know then.” Just think about the powerful meaning behind those words.
And, with that, here’s the central point of this article:
Yes, definitely treat your laundry business as if it is important – because it is. But the totality of your life is more important; this includes (but is not necessarily limited to) your spouse or partner, your children, your parents, extended family members, your religious beliefs, your charitable activities, your hobbies, your social life, and your mental and physical health.
You are not defined by what you do for a living. You are defined by all of the aforementioned aspects of your life. If you focus on just one of these, the rest will suffer in the long run. And you will set yourself up for regrets down the road that simply cannot be changed.
Every once in a while I must fill out financial forms for one purpose or another. I’m always amused (although mostly irritated) by the emphasis on the term “net worth,” because it is only a mathematical concept. It creates no space for a person’s true net worth, which is really what an individual should be about.
For example, who has a greater net worth? A hyper, over-aggressive corporate raider with billions in the bank, or someone who works long, emotionally draining hours at a hospice for a relatively modest paycheck, yet who is genuinely sensitive to human suffering?
It depends upon how you define net worth, doesn’t it?
Experience tells me that, if you attend to all aspects of your life, your business life will do just fine. In fact, it likely will do even better than if you focused strictly on your business. Strange how life works, isn’t it?
Here’s a startling thought for you: you can be the world’s greatest and most successful laundry operator without focusing strictly on operating your store. Unfortunately, many laundry owners just don’t know that. They are easy to spot. They’re always on the move, usually have worried looks on their faces and go to doctors a lot for real or imagined illnesses.
Psychologically, it’s actually quite calming to emotionally and intellectually multi-task. Just allocate your time intelligently, and your business results won’t suffer.
I sure wish I could take credit for the fable you are about to read, but I can’t. I read it some time ago, attributable to an anonymous author. It makes a strong point indeed, and the lesson is worthy of remembering:
An American businessman was standing on the pier of a small coastal Mexican village when a small boat with just one fisherman docked. Inside the boat were several large yellow fin tuna. The American complimented the fisherman on the quality of his fish.
“How long did it take you to catch them?”he asked.
“Only a little while,” the fisherman replied.
“Why don’t you stay out longer and catch more fish?”the American then asked.
“I have enough to support my family’s immediate needs,” the fisherman said.
“But,” the American asked, “what do you do with the rest of your time?”
The fisherman replied, “I sleep late, fish a little, play with my children, take a siesta with my wife, and then stroll into the village each evening where I sip wine and play guitar with my amigos. I have a full and busy life.”
The American scoffed, “I am a Harvard MBA, and I could help you. You should spend more time fishing, and with the proceeds, you could buy a bigger boat – and with the proceeds from using the bigger boat, you could buy several boats. Eventually, you would have a fleet of fishing boats.”
“When then?”the fisherman asked.
“Instead of selling your catch to a middle man, you would sell directly to the consumers, eventually opening your own canning factory. You would control the product, processing and distribution. Then, you would need to leave this small coastal fishing village and move to Mexico City, then Los Angeles and eventually New York City, where you will run your expanding enterprise.”
“How long will this take?”the fisherman responded.
“Fifteen to twenty years,” the American replied. “That’s the best part. When the time is right, you would announce an IPO, sell your company stock to the public and become very rich – you would make millions!”
“Millions? Then what?”
The American paused and then smiled… and slowly replied, “You would retire and move to a small coastal fishing village, where you would sleep late, fish a little, play with your children, take a siesta with your wife, and then stroll into the village each evening where you will sip wine and play guitar with your amigos.”
Here’s a good plan. Don’t just remember this fable… don’t ever forget it.
There is far more to life than increasing its speed. Make room for the important things. You can fit them in. You’ll regret it if you don’t. Redefine the term “net worth”for yourself.
I often say, “Order dessert first, because you just never know what is going to happen.” About 80 or so annual turns around the sun happens fast – just ask anyone who has taken that ride.
The brilliant child psychologist David Weatherford wrote the following poem. It will put your life into perspective:
Slow Dance
Have you ever watched kids
On a merry-go-round?
Or listened to the rain
Slapping on the ground?
Ever followed a butterfly’s erratic flight?
Or gazed at the sun into the fading night?
You’d better slow down.
Don’t dance so fast.
Time is short.
The music won’t last.
Do you run through each day
On the fly?
When you ask: How are you?
Do you hear the reply?
When the day is done,
do you lie in your bed
With the next hundred chores
Running through your head?
You’d better slow down.
Don’t dance so fast.
Time is short.
The music won’t last.
Ever told your child,
We’ll do it tomorrow?
And in your haste,
Not see his sorrow?
Ever lost touch,
Let a good friendship die
Cause you never had time
To call and say, “Hi”?
You’d better slow down.
Don’t dance so fast.
Time is short
The music won’t last.
When you run so fast to get somewhere
You miss half the fun of getting there.
When you worry and hurry through your day,
It is like an unopened gift thrown away.
Life is not a race.
Do take it slower.
Hear the music
Before the song is over.
I suggest that you print out this poem and put it up on the office wall in your laundry. You know… in the office where you tally up your weekly collections.
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