Fear…

Normally I reserve Sundays for God, family and rest. I got the first two in today, but the rest? Well, look at the time-stamp for this. It’s after midnight and I’m forcing myself to go to bed in a few minutes.

I spent a good chunk of the day flow-charting on this gigantic white board someone gave me during an office move. It’s bigger than most walls in my house, but I thought (rightly) that it would be a good tool to flesh out my random thoughts.

In the last two years I’ve re-worked the moving biz plan several times, usually going in a circular motion. There are several significant regulatory hurdles to overcome or comply with (at a not insignificant cost), but as I’m now grossing a decent amount every month, and, the relatively arbitrary Rubicon of the New Year has been crossed, it’s go-time. The hurdles are about to get jumped.

And I’m scared shitless. Pardon the French, but as I told my wife today, my body is going through what feels like a seared conscience. To the best of my knowledge, I haven’t done anything that would merit a seared conscience, but the phsyiological feelings (sorry, it’s late) are about the same. I’m so nervous that my hands are shaking, my thoughts are jumping all the fences, and I’m waiting for something to go horribly, horribly wrong. I think of this as a “light” blog — no particularly deep thoughts involved — but I have to confess this not-so-particularly-light sentiment: I feel like I’m about to die.

Crazy, isn’t it? I hope so. But that’s what it feels like. Remember that Seinfeld episode where George says he doesn’t think God would ever let him be successful? Jerry says “I thought you didn’t believe in God.” George replies that he does, but only for the bad stuff.

I’m about to push this business into a very serious, very potentially profitable place, and if all goes according to plan, it will probably get a lot more attention. Working as it has been “behind the scenes,” that scares the hell out of me.

Call it stage fright. Call it opening night jitters. Call it buck fever. Call it whatever you want, but I got it.

This is where I would normally throw in the towel and say I made a good effort. But I have a family, and if not for them, that’s exactly what I would do. However, since I’m responsible for the well-being of two, and soon to be three people, I have no choice but to take this little business to wherever it’s going to go.

I ran the numbers today. (About time, right?) By replicating what I do with four or so moving crews and taking a small percentage of their income as a referral fee, I’ll make…well, that wouldn’t be very polite of me, would it? Suffice it to say it’ll be comfortable. In the beginning, it’ll be hell, of course. I’ll be dealing with logistical complications that have made all my prior work seem like stacking my son’s blocks, but the potential payoff is well worth the effort.

I have until June. That’s when I need to be available for my wife and the kids. It’s not as though I’m totally unavailable right now, but unless things are well along by June, there’s no way I can maintain my current work schedule AND help out around here. I just can’t do it.

So, pressure’s on. It scares the hell out of me, but man, life has never been more exciting.