It’s that time of year again which means Collin (now 19 and a freshman in college) is deciding where baby Jesus should be placed in the nativity scene.
This year, the Christ Child is getting a birds eye view of the nativity!
Here is a look back at past years: Baby Jesus Through The Years
I have never met someone who owns their own business that doesn’t have at least a few stories about their entrepreneurial skills showing themselves in the days of their youth.
Want to get an entrepreneur talking? Just ask them why and when they knew they’d have their own business. You’ll find most have stories that go beyond the paper route or lemonade stand (and yes, I had both).
This is my first entrepreneur story. A story about corn fields, golf balls and amazing little pizzas.
A Corn Hole In One
I guess in a way, I’m a child of the corn.
When I was in elementary school, we lived in North Canton, Ohio – a stone’s throw away from the local public golf course. Across the road from the golf course was acre after acre of Ohio corn fields. We’re talking endless corn fields. And my friends and I spent a lot of time in and out of them.
Growing up near the golf course, it didn’t take long for me to realize that lots of golfers couldn’t hit a ball straight if their life depended on it. So each Summer day, the corn field across the street would end up littered with golf balls. I learned quickly that, unlike me, most golfers didn’t find any comfort in the rows of corn. They’d just take a mulligan, tee up another brand new Titleist and whack it into the maize.
Hunting for and collecting golf balls was tremendous fun and became a bit of an obsession. At first, it was a contest to see who could find the most balls. My friends and I used to take a hacksaw and cut into them to see what was inside. I could explain to anyone, in great detail, the innards of the latest Top-Flite or Ping!
Now, you know a kid growing up in rural Ohio has expenses. The quality of the Summer experience was always enhanced with some extra walking around cash in the pocket. Most of my money went toward Mad Magazines, Wacky Packages and the ultimate treat which were the amazing little pizzas in the golf course clubhouse! Did I mention how AMAZING those little pizzas were?
I guess my switch was flipped and the entrepreneurial light bulb came on when I realized there may be something beyond the thrill of the golf ball hunt — that I could actually make money selling golf balls back to many of the same folks who shanked them.
With magic marker and paper (marketing collateral!), a boldness to open my mouth (sales!), a steady stream of golfers (target market!) and golf balls galore (self replenished inventory!), I quickly cornered the market and selling used golf balls became a residual profit machine. I was living high on the hog with a belly full of pizza!
I studied my target audience so I knew when most golfers arrived throughout the day. When I wasn’t selling, I was busy restocking my inventory. I came up with a grade for each ball based on its used markings. Prices were set based on the grade. The best “used” balls had markings invisible to the naked eye — clearly brand new and given their inaugural ride by a really poor golfer (my favorite kind)! I found golfers loved buying these “high grade” golf balls at half the price of a new one.
With the added goal of saving enough to buy my very own Stretch Armstrong, I found ways to work harder and smarter. It seemed the only foes to the business were old man Winter and the highly unlikely scenario that one day, a miracle cure would be found for the chronic slice.
The Challenges: Competitors, Location and Price
I believe that the true test of the entrepreneur is how they deal with the ups and downs of the business. Like with any business, I learned quickly that there would be challenges and was forced to create ways to evolve and keep the business moving forward.
Competition
What started as perhaps the first used golf ball monopoly, didn’t last very long. There were some other kids who quickly threw together a “me too” operation to compete with me. But the biggest competition actually came from the golf course itself. After they did some top secret competitive intelligence work (ok, not really), they caught on to my brilliant business idea (they stole an idea from a kid) and started selling used balls in the clubhouse right by the register.
Location
I had two prime locations. The parking lot where the golfers parked their cars and the bag drop area which was really prime for quick transactions. This reminds me of the best answer to why people sell door-to-door … because that’s where the PEOPLE are! Once the clubhouse started selling used balls, my prime locations around the clubhouse were, let’s say, strongly discouraged. Didn’t they know I used most of my profits to buy their amazing little pizzas?
Pricing
My used golf ball prices were priced to sell, but the clubhouse matched my already low prices.
So, in a nutshell, heres how I dealt with the business challenges.
When it came to the other kids who copied me, dealing with them was simple. I simply had to outwork them (which I did). The much bigger challenge was competing with the clubhouse. I had to get creative, a little sneaky, and be willing to take some risks in solving the challenge of this mega competitor. My little indie operation was hell bent on not letting the big conglomerate win. Not to mention I was addicted to those little pizzas.
I knew I could compete with the clubhouse on quantity and quality of inventory since I had the corn fields. So my big move was to add a few sales reps and take my location out onto the actual golf course! I found all the best places – the bunkers, the massive trees and the ditches. The golfers got used to seeing us everywhere. They knew we probably shouldn’t be there, but I think many bought from us simply because they appreciated our creativity and tenacity to stay in business.
And the pricing issue? I was able to solve that easily by dropping my prices just a little bit. It’s not like I had much overhead!
So, there you have it. My first entrepreneur story. What are the biggest challenges your business is facing?Are there creative solutions and are you willing to take some risks? Please share your comments with me below.
I have another tale to tell which happened about 6 years later. It’s a story about dumpsters, posters and lots and lots and lots of vinyl records. Oh yeah, I already told that story!
Until next time!
This is one of those songs that just popped into my head. I rushed to my computer to write it down! Hope you like it…
Doorstop Believer
Just a small time world
Leavin’ in a lonely whirl
She took a midnight drink of it anyways
Just a CD burn
Barney raced in self control
He took a midnight drink of it anyways
I sit here in a Spokane room
I smell Hawaiian cheap perfume
Foreigns smile bacon Sharon Tate
It blows on and on and on
Strange ears
Wading
Morton Downey bully hard
Hair shatter surging in delight
Streetlife
Beeper
Living just to find a moose and
Hide it somewhere on the right
Twerking heart to get my mail
Everybody wants a grill
Handy Mandy won’t you roll the dice
Just one more dime
Summer win
Summer loose
Chuck Norris will drink some booze
On a boat that never ends
It blows on and on and on
Strain jeers
Wastin’
Morton Downey bully hard
Hair shatter surging in delight
Scream like
People
Livin’ just to fight a notion
Hide it somewhere on the right
Doorstop believer
Hold on to that sweet deriere
Streamline
Bingo ahhhhhh!
Doorstop believer
Hold on, is it 3am?
Streetlight
Beeper
Summer win
Summer loose
Some were born to sleep with Jews
Otis muzak never ends
Egos on and on and on
Don’t stop bleeding
Hold on if you’re feeding
Sleek tights
Peepholes
Don’t stop Felipe
Hold on, is it 3am?
Streamline
Bingo
It’s August 21, 2015 and we just dropped off Collin, our youngest at college.
From the moment Kim told me in 1993 that she was pregnant to about 30 minutes ago, our lives have been intensely focused on trying to raise our boys into good human beings and guide them toward independence.
With tears in our eyes, I grabbed Kim and said, “We did good Honey!”
And it’s true.
I know that parenting is never completely done and that you move from parenting babies … to toddlers … through the black hole of “the anything-can-happen early teen years” … to young adults and then finally (a few decades later) you become the parent of an adult (which by the way, is a whole new ball game).
Let’s be honest, I don’t know of any parent who wouldn’t say there are times when the parenting journey feels like a grind. Just like getting older, parenting is not for sissies. But, right here, right now, the time does seem to have flown by. My mind can’t seem to find many of the challenges or rough patches, it just settles in on good memories and the intense love for my kids that hit me like a freight train when they were born and has never let up. If you don’t have kids yet, just wait.
As Collin dives into adulthood and the adventure of college, Kim and I move into the next phase of our lives as empty nesters. Will being an empty nester come as natural to me as being a parent? Guess we’ll find out.
Wait, the nest isn’t completely empty. My dog has not left me yet!!!
Seriously though, Collin is where he should be and that makes my heart happy. We left him in good hands and surrounded with close friends which makes it easier I suppose.
I think what’s surprised me the most is the weirdness of the emotions during this time. It’s a complicated mix of deep-down-in-the-gut sadness, relief, excitement, gratefulness and celebration of one of our proudest parenting achievements. Throw all that into a bag and shake it up!
So, in the short term, if you ask me how I’m doing, expect something like “It’s complicated” or “I have no idea”.
I could write a short novel about the experiences of raising and launching our boys. Maybe I will venture into that someday. I really have no idea if I’m prepared for a house without them every day. If I get around to writing about it, I have a feeling it would be similar to some of what Rob Lowe wrote about his relationship with his boys and how his reaction to them moving on surprised him.
I remember the first time I laid eyes on him in the delivery room … I remember what I whispered to him when his eyes opened for the first time in his life as he peered in my face, and (I am convinced) into my soul. “Hello, I’m your daddy. And I will always be there for you.”
One of the great gifts of my life has been having my two boys and, through them, exploring the mysterious, complicated and charged relationship between fathers and sons…and how that bond is so powerful.” (Full Article Here)
But, on a lighter and much more humorous note, let me go down memory lane a bit ok?
I’m a crazy list maker.
This means I have a list of “Collinisms” — things Collin has said over the years that I didn’t want to forget. Here are several of my favorites:
“I didn’t like the new car. But then I saw the trunk!”
“Dad, I want a rabbit. They’re cheap and I can cuddle with them. If they die, you can just throw them back in the woods.”
Age 12, walking past the Victoria’s Secret at the mall, he glances in and says, “Wow Dad, apparently it’s no longer a secret.”
“Grammy’s toilet paper is like a blanket.”
“Dad, is parenting hard? I’m trying to make it as easy as possible!”
“I have to pee so bad my teeth hurt.”
In his Blues Clues costume for Halloween, he walks outside and declares “Look at the clouds. They’re squishee!” (we have this on video and it’s cuteness will make you knees buckle)
During an age 14 growth spurt: “I just feel like I’m wide awake and super tired all at the same time.”
“Mommy, why did you marry Daddy? Because he knows his alphabet?”
While doing an arts and crafts project for school and after tearing some panty hose apart: “Look Mom! It’s a panty ho!!!”
And today while picking up some final things for him at Target, he gave me the gift of reenacting one of my favorite memories.
He was about 9 or 10 and he wandered off from me at the grocery store. After a few minutes of not being able to find him, I decided to just yell, “COLLIN WHERE ARE YOU???” and I hear his little boy voice yell back from the next row:
“I’M OVER HERE SMELLING THE SHAMPOOS!!!”
I love odd pairings of musicians when the result is fantastic like this!
Friends:
One thing that is critically important to a growing, healthy church?
Coffee.
That’s right, coffee. And I mean GOOD coffee. God’s house demands it.
My friends, the time has come for us all to stand up and be delivered from coffee that is so revolting, just thinking about it makes you throw up in your mouth a little.
My opponent will say her coffee is good, but what you’ll get is 4 more years of the same really nasty, torturous church coffee that people drink only because they simply have to.
I will veto any pork barrel Maxwell House.
I will prove that Chock Full ‘o Nuts is neither heavenly or full of nuts.
I will prove that Folgers is nothing more than a coffee imitator.
And I will finally put an end to people stealing bad church coffee to use at home as paint thinner.
My brothers and sisters, I will bring real change to the Coffee Ministry.
Can I get a witness???
As a major league pitcher, I can think of some cool names I’d like to have like:
Neckball
Wiffmaker
Striker
Aimengroin
On the list of undesirable names, I’d have to include:
And if I was a Twin or Ray and was forced to play inside, I’d probably want a name like:
I just finished a wonderful baseball book, “Teammates” by David Halberstam.
The baseball history and tidbits are fantastic in this book. It’s also a book about a dear friendship between Ted Williams (the only major league player to ever hit over .400), Dominic DiMaggio, John Pesky and Bobby Doerr.
Of Ted Williams .406 season, Halberstam writes:
“I think in that sense the .406 is special and defining, not that he was the last man to accomplish it, but much more important was the way he did it. On the last day of the season, Boston faced the Philadelphia Athletics in a doubleheader and Ted’s averaged rounded out to .400 and [Red Sox Manager] Joe Cronin offered him the day off. But Ted Williams did not round things out, and he had played, gotten six hits, and taken the average up to .406.”
With an end like that, how much more special was Williams’ feat? This man marched to the beat of his own drummer.
Will you be remembered not only for what you did, but how you did it?
