From Ron DiNocco, Small Business Owner
Re: Our Relationship
I’m your typical everyday “let’s make a million and blow this joint” entrepreneur. I like to cook my own dinner, mow my own lawn, and run my own business. Like you, I want to be rewarded for my performance, not the hours I spend pretending to be busy in one of those cubicle thingies. In another life, we would be best friends. Unfortunately, we can barely tolerate each other. You see, I can’t understand your language, and you can’t understand my ignorance. It’s a contempt that’s been brewing since deregulation, and, like most dysfunctional relationships, no one is winning. Call it Trump vs. Rosie, Arizona Cardinals vs. Making the Playoffs, or George Bush vs. The English Language. I simply call it a big fat waste of money.
Here’s My Story:
A little more than two years ago, I was presented with an opportunity to buy out the founders of a small software company. I was employed by this company for nearly six years and had changed jobs from controller to controller/support manager to controller/support manager/sales manager. Those that have worked with small high-risk companies know this is not uncommon. We had survived the tech bust of 2000, the tragedy of 9/11 and multiple fundraising failures. Unfortunately, this company, in its current form, was on its last legs. We went from “putting out fires” to “massive evacuation” in about six months. It was the same old story: cash was short, promising sales evaporated, and secured creditors went from partners to plaintiffs. I’ve always believed that within chaos lies opportunity, so, with the support of the current stock holders, I took full control of the corporation.
Like any 30-year-old with a young child and two mortgages, I was absolutely terrified by this. For me, fear is not a necessarily a bad thing, in that it provides a compass to actionable activities. Fear may have kept me up all night and sucking on a bottle of Pepto all day, but it certainly got me moving. At a very high level, my plan was simple: Cut every imaginable expense and bring in technology that allowed us to sell to new clients and support active customers. Cutting expenses usually means cutting people. Although this is absolutely heart wrenching to execute, it’s quick and quantifiable. The other expense hogs are usually office and IT-related. I concluded that we would become a virtual corporation. I’d heard about VoIP and how we could save a ton of money while gaining all kinds of flexibility. IT Guy sold me on it in about five minutes. “Get it done,” I told him. “We’re moving out under cover of darkness this weekend.” I wished I was kidding.
I remember when the trouble began. It started with a single e-mail. “You’re 800 number isn’t working. Are you guys still in business?!?!” I dialed our main number from my cell phone, received an error message and nearly punched a hole in the wall. I called IT Guy and got voice mail. I was like a crazy ex-girlfriend speed dialing incessantly until he finally picked up. The conversation went something like this:
