succeeding at the wrong thing

There is a lot said about failing.

Do the the thing, try, get back up when you fall, learn from your mistakes, you know all the cliches and motivational hullabaloo. 

No one really talks about what happens if you succeed- but it’s at the wrong thing….

Cause I think that might be what I did.

I own a business that is successful-ish. It’s stressful and seasonal and imperfect and an endless amount of work but it’s eventually profitable-ish. I did accomplish something I set out to do: create a positive place to eat, to drink, to go, and to work. For the most part.

A few people who work for me may disagree and maybe they can’t stand working for me and that’s fine too, I’m not for everyone.

Regardless, I have had a consistent crew and flow of customers who are generously loyal and I do not take a single one of them for granted. Even if they don’t like me personally or if I am not a huge fan of them. Se le ve. It’s all good.

That took 10 years to learn by the way, with a pandemic thrown in there to accelerate my ability to be committed without attachment. Ownership without it being my identity. That was fucking hard. 

Anyway. 

Over my decade at the helm of a very busy, very popular and overall successful business, you would think that I would be proud of what I have accomplished. And in that realm, I am. 

However, I think I became successful at the wrong thing. 

I’m ok with this. It’s not a mistake and I don’t feel like I wasted my time. I’m still really, really grateful so don’t be a jerk and misunderstand me. If anything, it’s encouraging. I can look at it like, I did okay at this and it wasn’t even what I had meant to do, (not to be confused with not working at it, I worked my ass off for it) but it was not what I meant to do. Or even what I believe I am meant to do. 

I mean all good in the hood, I’m just getting around to what I am meant to be doing now. Which is writing. And I get to do it without depending on it to pay the bills, which is great cause I am almost certain that this, while worth something to me, has little to no actual monetary value. I say that lovingly. But- also, realistically. 

Thankfully, money is not the point. 

The thing is, money wasn’t the only point in my first business either. 

Obviously, you need to care about your bottom line- but you can’t ONLY care about your bottom line. I don’t even think it should be the first thing you care about. 

In my experience, when you care about the work, the real work you are doing, then you have a healthy bottom line by default. The definition of caring depends on the leader and for me, that was and always will be, my people first. 

Did I communicate expectations clearly? Did I hire and train properly? Do they have what they need to do the job expected of them: tools, equipment, a balanced schedule, a fair salary?

Did we navigate the inevitable mistakes and miscommunications productively? 

Are we playing to peoples strengths, are we listening, really listening, to their feedback, constructive criticism, complaints. 

Is it a safe, respectful and healthy work environment? 

Then, we can get creative, cook what we want, serve what we want, evolve, grow, take a step back, switch it up, experiment with everything:

Drinks, dishes, hours, shifts, tasks. 

In my opinion, every ounce of success comes from the team. Period. 

Lead with love, compassion and gratitude and you almost always have a crew that will take care of each other, take care of your customers, and, voila, take care of the bottom line. 

The thing is, a healthy bottom line is relative too. Do I squeeze every possible dollar out of what that place has the potential to pull in.

I can, without a doubt, answer that with a very hard - no.

The staff and I eat and drink pretty much whatever we want. We might have too many people on the schedule. Food costs are through the roof. Our portions are too big, we don’t charge enough and we are terrible at inventory. 

Like I said, imperfect.

The staff gets on each others nerves from time to time. We’ve all been snappy and/or inhospitable. We’re human, we apologize, and we move on. 

This is the work I care about. And it was what lead me here in the first place. It wasn’t to own a restaurant or to make money or to be a boss or to be the best at anything.

I fell in love with leading a team and that is what I did. And I think I succeeded. 

Was this my calling? Maybe. 

We think we know about failure. We think we know about success. But what about succeeding at the wrong thing…that’s something else entirely. 

I’m beginning to see that all of this needed to happen first in order to fuel the fire for what’s next. It was, after all, the whole reason I took the job all those years ago.

And I’m not going anywhere anytime soon. It’s just time to do both. A decade of succeeding at something I didn’t set out to do isn’t so bad, plus, the stories I have now, well, you can’t make it up, as they say.

Even if I suck at writing and fail miserably, at least I'll be failing at the right thing.