People say “the harder you work, the luckier you get”. But I prefer this:

When opportunity meets those who are well prepared, fireworks happen.

Lady Luck wanders into our lives every now and then.

A chance meeting.
A change in government policy.
The contract you always wanted.
The deal of deals.

Or my favourite, someone believing in you enough to take a punt.

This week, I’ve felt luckier than I have in a year.

If you want to make more profit, you’ll be tempted to turn over a few stones.

I’d guess you’d be looking at these stones:

Stone number 1: Increase sales.

Stone number 2: Decrease costs.

Stone number 3: Get a salesperson.

Stone number 4: Efficiency and operational improvements.

But the stone that needs turning the most is the manager stone.

Suppose you make the decision to employ someone.

Just one person.

Not your wife for tax reasons. An actual employee.

Straight away, you move into a very small percentage of people in the UK.

There are around 4.3 million businesses in Britain with zero employees.

Only around 1.4 million businesses employ anyone at all.

Then it gets even crazier.

£150k for this, £350k for that, £2m for Mrs Reeves and some other turnover tax that’s been rustled up because our government thinks it can spend our money better than we can.

Drives me potty. 

If unwelcome fireworks weren’t raining over the UAE I can’t help but ponder the occasional thought to my chums who have moved there and are frankly loving it. 

That’s my brain every single day. An entrepreneur in growth mode is always optimising cash.

Growing a company taxes you far more than money.

I’ll be honest with you.

I have the “how about f—k off” days. 

I do have moments of quiet contemplation. More so than ever recently.

I have been under colossal pressure of late. I feel that by telling you, it helps people realise that no matter the size of your empire - big or small, you can still feel it.

Here’s three things you need if you want to build a behemoth.

Miss one, and it doesn’t work.

Not good. Not above average.

Exceptional.

There’s no silver or bronze here. You’re going for gold.

It comes down to three things:

Models. Managers. Marketing.

Dissatisfaction is what haunts most entrepreneurs.

I’m constantly disappointed in my achievements - I think I can do better. It drives me. 

The last year has been particularly tough for me. I’ve shared a lot of it here with you lot. Overheads, deals that didn’t land right, fallouts that have cost me.

I tell you this because no one has it perfect.

It’s a life of service. That’s the entrepreneur’s life.

One day, a few of you will get a liquidity event. A reward. A brief moment of calm… before you go again. Or die. Many of you will see death as the end. 

Putting our trotters up is not really how we roll. 

You always feel like you’re nearly there. And “nearly there” is what keeps you in the game.

Optimus is what got us going. Bundles of of it. 

Because deep down, you’re not doing it for money. It’s a calling, not a wealth grab.

This weekend, I stepped aboard my camper van and criss-crossed the country on a quest for knowledge and deals, learning from other folk’s 10,000 hours of mastery.

Not just any folk. Folk like us. At it. Learning their craft. In many cases, professors of entrepreneurship.

They’ve got the T-shirt and the flipping fridge magnet.

When can you charge more and people have to pay up? 

This weekend I have two tales to tell. 

I cooked this Sunday. I love cooking.

We needed some essentials as we were a tad bare at home. Family vote… spag bol it was.

It’s been a while since I’ve whizzed around a proper supermarket. Forgot the bags as well, so I was in for a rip-off. 40p a bag now.

For a moment, checking a few aisle prices, I thought I’d walked into Fortnum & Mason or Harrods.

Remember last week?  I shared the story of David, who sadly passed away surrounded by his family.

I wrote a few words about his wonderful outlook on life.

It made me think: why are so many people miserable and dissatisfied with where they’re at? 

The answer to that conundrum….

They major in the minor things.

On Sunday I found out that an old friend was in his final moments. This wonderful chap lives in Cornwall.

I spoke to him on Sunday and he said, “I’d like to shake your hand one last time.”

So I got in my camper van and started the drive.

A few things have rustled up my thoughts this week from the journey of life as an entrepreneur.

I’ve had some punches and some wins. Standard stuff really.

The bipolar-like internal emotions that come with this gig are undeniable.

I’ll admit, the last six months have been a real challenge. I’ve shared that more honestly here than anywhere else in my content, more than I would tell friends and family.

The cost and responsibility are monumental. Millions of pounds flow in and out of our bank accounts every week.

The lion’s share goes straight to the Government through their preposterous turnover taxes and then the wage bill.

Over the past eight weeks, I’ve had a lot of time to reflect.

Being bed bound forces you to slow down and think more than usual.

As the years in business roll by, I have realised a couple of things.

Good news and bad news hit you in equal measure.

The real win, in hindsight, is that we learn far more from failure and bad news than we do from good news.

As I run a much larger business now, I have to discipline disappointment every single day.

Let’s play a game. A game of Guess who! 

Riddle me this, who’s got….

• Year on year growth.

• £850m profit off £6.3bn in sales.

• Been around for 44 years. 

• No drama.

• No reinvention of the wheel.

• Just steady, disciplined improvement.

Who am I talking about?

After the Second World War, the Japanese became an exceptionally resourceful bunch.

Like the Germans, they recovered from defeat and went on to build fast-growing economies. Disaster led to greatness.

Today, both countries still command impressive economic strength.

Japan particularly interests me, especially their philosophy of Kaizen.

Some new lows for me this week…

“Tracey… can you put my sock on?”

That’s my PA. Never would I have imagined that would be a request. I wasn’t ready for her to see my hairy big toe.

I was proud as punch that I’d managed to get myself dressed with one leg down, but the sock got the better of me.

The day I put my sock on is the day I know I’m back.

I’ve lost a month. Absolutely diabolical.

When you factor in the lull over Christmas, then add me playing the character of Hop-along, spending more time on crutches than in my businesses… it’s driven me to despair.

No, I don’t want to Netflix and chill.

I want to get up and go.

What does it feel like to see a bone pop out of your skin?

What does taking drugs in epic proportions feel like when you have never taken drugs before?

What happens when you carry more responsibility than most people and are completely incapacitated for a week?

What is it like to be cut open and have surgeons say “we love your videos” as the last thing you remember?