What can riding a bike teach us about family business?
Do you remember what it felt like when you first learned to ride a bike? Do you remember what it felt like to have a parent or a sibling follow behind you as you began to pedal? Do you remember the comfort and stability the training wheels gave you? Do you remember feeling like you’d never be able to ride without the training wheels? What a terrifying thought that was? And, do you remember the moment those training wheels came off? Do you remember the first 50 few pedals all by yourself? Do you remember being excited and terrified at the same time? Then, do you remember that inevitable moment the handlebars started to wobble and your front tire started to shake? Do you remember the moment your weight started to shift from left to right as you helplessly tried to maintain control of your bike? The moment where your hands came off the handlebars and there were no training wheels or anyone to keep you from falling as you spilled helplessly onto the ground? And, do you remember lying on the ground with your limbs tangled in a pile of aluminum bike frame and rubber tires with a peppering of asphalt pebbles in the palms of your hands? Do you remember wondering exactly what it was that had gone wrong? Do you remember wanting to walk away and never sit on the seat of a bicycle again? And, do you remember the moment it was time to try to ride on your own again? Do you remember considering all that had gone wrong and how you were going to keep from falling again? Do you remember becoming more confident with every ride you took? Then, as you got better, as you got further from the assistance of an adult or the comfort of the training wheels, riding that bike started to feel more natural. You learned to ride on your own and you recognized the dangers of falling but you’d already experienced the falls and knew if you were ever going to get to the places where you wanted to go, it had to be without training wheels or the support of someone else.
When I decided to stop working in my family business, this is what it felt like. I’m 28 years old. I began working for my family’s business when I was 15 and I made the decision to exit my family’s business after roughly 12.5 years when I was 27. My story is the the typical story of a second generation heir-apparent; my parent’s started a company in their early 40’s, worked incessantly on that business to build it and give us (their children) a life more comfortable than the lives they had, were fortunate enough to find success with that business and, then, whether carefully, consciously, or neither, decided that their first-born son would want to assume leadership of that company when his father retires.
The family business was the centerpiece of our family’s identity. All of the conversations we had somehow or another intertwined with what dad did for work; the food we ate was purchased with money made through the family business, the vacations we took, the cars we drove, the clothes we wore, and the lifestyle we lived were all in direct connection to the resources we had as a result of the hard work my parents put into the family business. The family business was the impetus for many of our social connections and relationships. It was what made us, us.
From the time I was old enough to comprehend the words ‘family’ and ‘business’, discussions about succession filled the air. It was less of a choice and more of an expectation that I would, one day, assume leadership of the family business. After all, I am the first-born son, and that’s what first-born sons do when their family’s own and operate businesses, right?
Many of my peers encouraged me to follow in my dad’s footsteps and become the second generation owner/operator of the company. My parents' friends often encouraged the same, but with enhanced fervor. “You don’t know what it’s like out here to make a living and support a family! If you’ve got an opportunity like the one your dad is giving you, why the hell wouldn’t you jump on it?” This is a statement I’ve heard in one way or another more times than I can count. I’ve heard it all. And, to be abundantly clear, I understand the logic.
I’m aware that the opportunity I was born into is unique and most people say they’d kill for an opportunity like having a father who would bequeath an entire company once he exited. I also recognize that my situation is a stroke of blind luck and I had absolutely nothing to do with the success of the company or what my parents accomplished. And, for those things, I’m grateful. I’ve lived a fortunate life in more ways than one. I’m aware of that. Unfortunately, there’s nothing I can do about the life and family I was born into. However, I did ultimately recognize my desire to determine how I could define who I was, be a contributing member of society, and be the best person I could. And, in order to do that, I need to do work that motivates me, interests me, and, if I’m lucky, fills me with a sense of purpose.
I’ve tried to do this within the family business in as many avenues as I could come up with. After convincing myself the family business was simply my destiny, and that I would likely never be interested in the company and purpose of what my parents built, I became frustrated. My internal dissatisfaction grew and I started to wonder if this really was all there was? Ultimately, with a lot of introspection, help from others I trusted, and a bit of a leap of faith, I left.
I might’ve been able to grit the consuming feeling of knowing that working for my family’s business was uninteresting and unfulfilling to me. Potentially, I could’ve avoided the tumultuous task of determining what it is that I really want to do with my life for longer. However, fortunately, I knew enough to listen to my intuition and made the decision to exit before it got any worse. I didn't want to be there 10,20, or 30 years later still wondering “what if?”
So, as overwhelming as it’s been to step away from the financial stability, the professional familiarity, and the opportunities my family’s business would’ve afforded me, it’s been equally as rewarding. I’ve discovered a sense of excitement and rebirth that I didn’t know was possible.
To stay in the comfort and protection of my family’s business would’ve been the equivalent to riding a bike with training wheels for the rest of my life. Yes. It would’ve been safer. It would’ve been less frightening. It would have been less uncertain (at least in the short-term). And, I would’ve been able to avoid the risk of falling.
But, no one ever truly became the person they’re supposed to be without risking a fall.
And, I’ve never heard of anyone winning the Tour de France while riding their bike with training wheels on.
