WILLSON HARRELL

Entrepreneurial Terror

 

He looked at me. I looked at him. Absolute silence. I had, of course, stopped breathing and was in desperate need of a pacemaker. Terror had just joined the meeting.

After what seemed an eternity, he said, "Are you sure?" Since I couldn't speak, I just nodded. "We'll let you know," he said.

It took him a month to make up his mind. During every moment of those 30 days and 30 nights, I lived with a terror as vivid and as horrifying as anything I had experienced in the French cornfield. When the letter arrived from Kraft, my hands were shaking so badly I couldn't open it. My secretary read it -- and let out a shout: "You did it! You did it!" Kraft had backed down. At that moment, my exhilaration was so overwhelming, the high so intense, that I almost passed out.

Was it worth it? You're damn right it was -- a hundred-thousandfold. Thirty years later, my old food-broker company still represents Kraft Inc., not only in Europe, but in the Far East and many other places. What's more, that account became the cornerstone of what eventually grew into the largest military-representative organization in the business. Two years ago, I sold it for more than $4 million.

I suppose it was this episode that confirmed me as an entrepreneur and kept me coming back for more. Aside from the terror, the experience also taught me the second secret of entrepreneurship -- its reward. I realized then that the elation you feel more than makes up for the pain you have suffered. That high, like the terror, is an emotion especially reserved for those of us who start companies. It is food for our spirit -- the sustenance that keeps us going from one encounter to the next.

Some people might call this an addiction. I prefer to think of it as a roller-coaster ride. In the beginning, you pull yourself slowly up the first incline, making the tough decisions with a growing sense of excitement and foreboding. When you hit the top, there is a brief, frightening moment of anticipation before all hell breaks loose. Terror takes over as you go screaming into the unknown. For a while, you feel nothing but incredible fear, interrupted only by a few bumps along the way. Then, suddenly, the ride is over, and the terror is gone, and the exhilaration is all that remains. It's time to buy another ticket. Somehow, though, you know that your first encounter was the worst. You have, to a degree, learned how to handle terror. Thereafter, the intensity diminishes a bit -- unless you find a bigger roller coaster or take up, say, skydiving.

The important thing, obviously, is to get through that first encounter, as some of you are trying to do right now. Don't be alarmed if it seems to be more than you can stand. Recognize the terror for what it is, and get used to it, because it could be yours for life. Learn to look it squarely in the eye and spit on it. If you don't, you probably won't make the club, at least not this time. Of course, there's no limit to the number of times you can join.

Now, I realize that I haven't said a damn thing to help you deal with the terror or make it go away. Unfortunately, I don't have any practical tips to give you. The only technique that I've found useful is to get in my car, all alone, and ride around cursing with every four-letter word in my vocabulary. If, by chance, you don't know many bad words, write me, and I'll send you my list. Then set aside a day or so, because it will take you that long to say all of them.

But cursing aside, let me offer a couple of pieces of advice. First, never try to share your feelings of terror with a friend. You will only be passing along the stuff of which ulcers are made. The other person, after all, may never have been on the roller coaster and may not be a member of the club. The chances are that he or she won't be able to deal with the feelings you describe. By sharing the terror, moreover, you are -- in effect -- asking the other person to share the blame in case something goes wrong. That's against the rules of the club. It is conduct unbecoming an entrepreneur. Leave that to the big companies, which have a builtin structure for sharing terror (or whatever its Fortune 500 counterpart might be). They call it a "committee," or sometimes "the office of the president."

Above all, don't take terror home with you. No matter how sorely tempted you are, do not under any circumstances share terror with people you love, unless they happen to be partners in your company. It will only make them despondent and maybe even sick. They put up with enough just living around an entrepreneur. Besides, you need the experience.

There is, however, something you can, and should, share with the people you love. I'm talking about the entrepreneurial high. By all means, take that home with you.

Back to my Kraft story for a moment. My wife will always remember that episode, not so much because I was such a miserable son of a bitch during the 30 days I was waiting for the reply, but because of what happened afterward. We were living in Frankfurt, Germany, at the time. As soon as I got my love letter from Kraft, I called her with the news and asked her for a date. She accepted. The day of our celebration, I took her to the Frankfurt airport and we boarded a plane to Paris, where I'd made reservations at the most exclusive and outrageously expensive restaurant in Europe. I started the dinner by ordering a 60-year-old bottle of wine, which cost about $500. The maitre d' dimmed all the lights and served the wine with great ceremony. I've forgotten how the wine tasted, but I will never forget the way my wife looked at me. The dinner lasted three days. We shared the high.

You will have your own highs to share once you have conquered your terror. In the meantime, you should at least be aware that you are not alone -- far from it. There is a whole gang of us out here living with the same monster. And you can take some comfort in knowing that terror is an integral and necessary part of every new business started by anyone, anywhere, at any time. Which means that, for every company in existence, there is, or was, some poor soul who bore the cross of terror for all of the people who have benefited. Whether the name was Mr. Kraft, Mr. Pillsbury, Mr. Ford, or Joe Blow, they all shook hands with the devil and joined the club.

My own belief is that the ability to handle terror, to live with it, is the single most important -- and, yes, necessary -- ingredient of entrepreneurial success. I also believe that it is the lonely entrepreneur living with his or her personal terror who breathes life and excitement into an otherwise dull and mundane world. From that perspective, the Club of Terror is a very exclusive one. Welcome.

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