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- Herausgeber: John Wiley & Sons
- Kategorie: Fachliteratur
- Sprache: Englisch
The #1 AWARD WINNER of BEST ENTREPRENEURSHIP AND SMALL BUSINESS book at the Australian Business Book Awards
Discover the strategies and secrets behind a billion-dollar Australian success story
In How to Build a Billion-Dollar Business, former Swisse CEO Radek Sali unpacks how his unique approach to product, people, and branding took Swisse Wellness from an Australian favourite to a blockbuster brand that sold for $2.1 billion. At the heart of How to Build a Billion-Dollar Business is Radek’s passion for finding purpose in work. This book shares inspiring real-world strategies, stories, and insights on how to build a business that makes an astounding profit — but more than that, how to build a business that also does good.
A successful business is not just about profit: it’s about culture. Inside, you’ll learn how to develop a business plan, foster loyalty and innovation in your team, build a thriving workplace culture rooted in values, and attract and retain customers who believe in your product and your mission.
- Build a culture of trust, openness, and respect — in your organisation as well as with your customer.
- Get timely and valuable insights on what it means to build a flexible business and a sustainable, responsible brand.
- Learn how to drive growth and sales reach by connecting with customers and driving an aspirational product or service.
- Build a business that makes a real social or environmental difference in your community, one that gives back and supports growth and wellness for all.
From his early career days to his success as a serial entrepreneur and ethical investor, Radek Sali shares a blueprint for discovering what drives you and making your business goals a reality. How to Build a Billion-Dollar Business is a handbook for business owners everywhere, showing you how to succeed in creating positive change in your business and in the world.
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Seitenzahl: 438
Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2024
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Table of Contents
COVER
TABLE OF CONTENTS
TITLE PAGE
COPYRIGHT
ABOUT THE AUTHORS
ABOUT RADEK SALI
ABOUT BERNADETTE SCHWERDT
INTRODUCTION
Success was never assured
What you'll learn
The critical question
PART I: SET UP
CHAPTER 1: BORN THIS WAY
I brought down the Iron Curtain
Mum the maverick
Dad the disruptor
Father of integrative medicine
Working hard
A practical joker
CHAPTER 2: VILLAGE LIFE
Diversity rules
My apprenticeship
How to create a new category
People don't know what they want
CHAPTER 3: THE CANDY MAN
From routine to reinvention
The traveller returns
Behind the scenes
CHAPTER 4: HOW TO CREATE A HIGH-PERFORMANCE CULTURE
Time to move on
A bachelor in Prague
CHAPTER 5: GETTING CLEAR
Village drama
A duty to society
A life-changing phone call
New horizons
PART II: SCALE UP
CHAPTER 6: THE ADVENTURE BEGINS
The challenges came thick and fast
A doctor's endorsement
CHAPTER 7: A ‘LEARN, GROW, IMPROVE’ OPPORTUNITY
The makings of a 4P culture
CHAPTER 8: AN IMPRESSIVE INDUCTION
To grow you have to let go
Who's the boss?
Strategy in the sauna
On the road
Hello Helen
CHAPTER 9: THE POWER OF CELEBRITY
A formula for success
Borrowing from the beauty aisle
CHAPTER 10: WHO'S RICKY?
Making the deal
What's the worst that can happen?
An unorthodox approach
CHAPTER 11: THE CREDIT CRUNCH NO-ONE SAW COMING
Control the controllables
CHAPTER 12: THE CALL FROM COLES
The $30 million order
The Bank of Coles
Buying into the business
CHAPTER 13: GET SONIA
Ballroom blitz
Listen to your instinct
Exclusivity is the key
Baptism by fire
Learn from the best
CHAPTER 14: CRACKING THE CODE
The flywheel unleashed
Everyone wanted in
Movie magic
The pressure was intense
On a personal note
CHAPTER 15: GAME ON
A winning team
Don't vampire the brand
Breaking barriers
CHAPTER 16: A TOTAL TEAM EFFORT
Practise what you get right
Culture of kindness
The language of numbers
CHAPTER 17: RUNNING FAST
Hiring Helen
Still trying…
Our people were our greatest asset
Two people for the same role
Finding the right people
Sales superstars
The A-team on board
Doing things differently
CHAPTER 18: MELBOURNE CUP MADNESS
Is Kim K coming?
CHAPTER 19: HOW TO INNOVATE
The commodification of creativity
Commit to continuous improvement
Survival of the fittest
CHAPTER 20: CULTURE AND COMMUNICATION
A home away from home
1. The Culture Plan
2. The Communications Plan
3. The Business Plan
CHAPTER 21: GOING INTERNATIONAL
The Olympics
Going global
The China syndrome
One door closes, another one opens
An early offer
CHAPTER 22: THE (BAD) AMERICAN DREAM
How to negotiate with a Hollywood agent
A marathon deal
Pitching to the American retailers
When the best laid plan(ogram)s go astray
CHAPTER 23: WHERE'S OUR STOCK?
Zero margin
The cost of growth
On the brink of bankruptcy
PART III: SELL UP
CHAPTER 24: EXITING AMERICA
The turnaround begins
CHAPTER 25: CIRCLES OF INFLUENCE
Controlling the controllables at work
Controlling the controllables at home
CHAPTER 26: THE SALE PROCESS BEGINS
Doubt grows
CHAPTER 27: BACK ON THE ROAD
An unexpected opportunity
Project Gold begins
Courting the daigou
The Nicole factor kicks in
Board games
Cutting costs
CHAPTER 28: HOW AND WHY WE SUCCEEDED IN CHINA
How we used the flywheel to launch into China
CHAPTER 29: CULTURE WILL PREVAIL
The Celebrate Life Foundation ball
The Colour Run
Cutting the cost of goods
Sometimes you need to be irrational
Backed by science
CHAPTER 30: A PR CHALLENGE
When
The Checkout
checked out
CHAPTER 31: LOSING PATIENCE …
I could go bankrupt
Finally, the turnaround kicks in
CHAPTER 32: FOR SALE!
Pitching the business
Going through the roof
PART IV: NEXT UP
CHAPTER 33: IT'S NOT OVER
‘Greedy–long’ pays off
Saying goodbye
The Datsun upgraded
The price of success
CHAPTER 34: LIGHTING UP THE WORLD
What we invest in
Giving back
We need to talk about George
CHAPTER 35: THE WORLD'S GREATEST SOCIAL ENTREPRENEURS
Honey, I bought an island
The B Team — playing for the world
CONCLUSION: OUR OWN LIGHT WARRIOR
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
END USER LICENSE AGREEMENT
Guide
Cover
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright
About the Authors
Introduction
Begin Reading
Conclusion: Our Own Light Warrior
Acknowledgements
End User License Agreement
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First published in 2024 by John Wiley & Sons Australia, LtdLevel 4, 600 Bourke St, Melbourne, Victoria 3000, Australia
© John Wiley & Sons Australia, Ltd 2024
The moral rights of the authors have been asserted
ISBN: 978-1-394-21604-8
All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the Australian Copyright Act 1968 (for example, a fair dealing for the purposes of study, research, criticism or review), no part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, communicated or transmitted in any form or by any means without prior written permission. All inquiries should be made to the publisher at the address above.
Cover design by Wiley
P95, 130, 157: Photo of Swisse sleep vitamins: © George Mdivanian / Alamy Stock Photo. P154: Vitamin bottle: © EllenM / Shutterstock. P225: Photo of Ricky Martin: © Graham Denholm / Stringer. P231: Photo of Nicole Kidman and Keith Urban: © Scott Barbour / Stringer.
Disclaimer
The material in this publication is of the nature of general comment only, and does not represent professional advice. It is not intended to provide specific guidance for particular circumstances and it should not be relied on as the basis for any decision to take action or not take action on any matter which it covers. Readers should obtain professional advice where appropriate, before making any such decision. To the maximum extent permitted by law, the authors and publisher disclaim all responsibility and liability to any person, arising directly or indirectly from any person taking or not taking action based on the information in this publication.
ABOUT THE AUTHORS
ABOUT RADEK SALI
Radek Sali is the former CEO of Swisse and a brand visionary who revolutionised the vitamin and supplements industry. Under his leadership, Swisse surged from a company worth $15 million with 30 employees to an astounding $2.1 billion enterprise with over 1000 employees in less than a decade. Swisse became Australia's largest global wellness company and the number 1 natural health brand in Australia and China. Swisse was awarded Australia's Best Private Business 2012 and The Best Place to Work in Australia for 2015 and 2016 and in 2012 Radek won GQ Australia's Entrepreneur of the Year award. Radek is the Founder and Executive Chairman of Light Warrior, the Reinventor and Executive chair of Wanderlust, and a Founder and Director of Conscious Investment Management, Stratosphere and Anthem. He has successfully started/reinvented 8 organisations and returned over 1000x the initial investment with 3 exits. In the not-for-profit space he is chairman of Igniting Change, the founder of Lightfolk foundation, a founding member of the Climate Leaders Coalition, LaTrobe Campaign Cabinet and BTeam Australasia, and serves as a director at the National Institute of Integrative Medicine.
Find Radek on LinkedIn at: linkedin.com/in/radeksali/
ABOUT BERNADETTE SCHWERDT
Bernadette Schwerdt is an award-winning Australian entrepreneur, author, TEDx speaker and copywriter. She was a senior account director at a global advertising agency Wunderman Cato Johnson and in 2004 founded the Australian School of Copywriting. She is the author of two bestselling books How to Build an Online Business and Secrets of Online Entrepreneurs; the ghost-writer of Catch of the Decade and How to Build a Business Others Want to Buy, a book coach for Find Build Sell and The Very Good Marketing Guide and is the host of the popular podcast, So you want to be a copywriter. She has worked as a professional actor on popular shows including Jack Irish, Neighbours, Winners and Losers and Round the Twist, is a qualified yoga teacher and was the inaugural in-house mindfulness coach for the Carlton Football Club. You could say she’s had a ‘portfolio’ career.
Find Bernadette at: linkedin.com/in/bernadetteschwerdt
www.bernadetteschwerdt.com.au
INTRODUCTION
Not everyone is cut out to build a billion-dollar business. It takes an enormous amount of self-belief, internal drive and ambition. (A bit of madness, too.) I am wired differently to many people. I acknowledge that. I don't say that to be boastful; I say it because this level of unwavering determination, commitment to purpose and relentless passion does not come naturally to most people.
The hard truth is that serious entrepreneurship — the kind that I will detail throughout this book, the kind that creates vast and life-changing wealth for all involved — is not for everyone. Looking back, after everything that happened, I feel lucky to still be standing in one piece. We are told ‘everything is possible’ — think, dream, believe and all that — but it must be backed up with years of effort, energy and application. There are few, if any, formulas for making fast money. (For the record, it will most likely take a minimum of a decade to turn a fledgling concept into a multimillion-dollar proposition.) It starts with making an extraordinary product, selling it for a profit, and then doing it again, again and again.
Whether you want to build a billion-dollar business, a ten-million-dollar business, or a million-dollar business, this book will be of value. You can apply the lessons to any business, at any level, in any sector. In the case of Swisse, with the help of many extraordinary individuals, we took a $15 million business that employed 30 people and turned it into a $2.1 billion enterprise that resulted in one of biggest private company transactions in Australian history, and we did it all in under ten years.
It has been a roller-coaster journey, and it's now my privilege to share both the highs and lows of this exhilarating time with you so that you can benefit from my experiences and use those lessons to build your own purpose-led, multimillion-dollar business.
Success was never assured
When I joined Swisse, I didn't set out to build a billion-dollar business. I joined it to build a business that I truly believed could be a positive force. I joined it because I believed that our product had the potential to make people healthier and happier. I found a product I loved and an industry I cared about, and I wanted to share them both with the world. Yes, I was ambitious for it to be a global operation, but it was never about making money for the sake of making money. My goal was to make something big, create a lasting legacy and have fun.
I bought into the Swisse business a year after joining, but I was an employee for the entire duration of my time there. I turned up to work, did my job, went home, got paid and did it all again the following week. Yet I always treated the business as if it was my own. I had a home loan, a car loan and $30 000 in credit card debt. I had to budget and balance my finances like everyone else. When I was offered a stake in the Swisse business, I took out loans worth millions of dollars to pay for those shares. If the business didn't do well, neither did I. If it failed, I would have gone bankrupt. You could say I was invested.
I say this because I want you to know that, like many of you reading this book, I started out as an ordinary employee working for a small business. I did not come from a family where wealth was talked about at the dinner table every night. My mum and dad were medical professionals so we mostly talked about health. I won't be disingenuous and pretend I had a ‘log cabin’ origin story. Yes, both my parents came from refugee families, landed in Australia with nothing, and worked hard to create financially rewarding lives, but as a result of that hard work, they were able to offer me and my younger sister and brother a world of opportunities. I took what they offered (not always gratefully) with both hands, and ran with it. I am deeply indebted to them for the opportunities they provided. They made me who I am.
I have been on both sides of the financial spectrum. I started with very little, and now, having built a business that has rewarded me with an incredible amount of wealth, I can say with some authority that money will not solve all your problems. If you think it will, I can assure you that you will be bitterly disappointed. I know many may scoff at this and think, with some justification, ‘Well, that's easy for him to say,’ but I'm happy to incur that wrath because I can only tell you what I know to be true for me (and for many I know who have generated a similar amount of life-changing wealth.)
While money is of course important, the pursuit of it at the expense of everything you love, and are passionate about, is folly. It will remove a range of problems but it will create a raft of others too. Problems, or challenges as I like to call them, are like aeroplanes on the runway. As soon as one takes off, another arrives to take its place. Yes, it will enable you to live a life upgraded, but you will still be the same person you are now. So, choose your business endeavour with care; choose something that you can fully devote yourself to, that doesn't feel like work, that comes easily to you. Choose something that makes a difference in people's lives and has the potential to make a positive impact. Don't sacrifice what you know to be important and valuable in your life for the pursuit of profit.
This doesn't mean you have to choose a wellness business like I did, or a business even remotely connected to health or wellbeing. Whatever business you choose, find the higher purpose beyond it, the reason ‘why’ it will help others be happier, healthier, in whatever context that may be — financial, artistic, cultural, emotional, spiritual — and focus on that. If you follow your principles, maintain the passion and put people first, the profit will follow.
By the way, pursuing purpose-led entrepreneurship won't guarantee you an easy or simple life. If you want that, stay where you are as a valued employee or public servant. But if you want a life filled with challenges, risks, thrills and spills — a life that will ask more of you than you ever thought possible, and maybe deliver you a more satisfying, gratifying and life-affirming adventure than you ever thought imaginable — then you are in the right place. Your journey to building a purpose-led, profitable business begins here.
What you'll learn
Delve into this book to learn how to:
turn your passion into profit:
align your passion with a purpose-driven, profitable venture
contribute positively to society through your business
infuse your core values into every business decision
select the ideal business idea:
identify business concepts that match your unique talents
assess market feasibility and demand
uncover a niche trend undetected by others
diversify and manage risk:
hedge your business bets and mitigate potential risks
discover your distinctive ‘flywheel’ and challenge industry norms
leverage design thinking principles to identify untapped market opportunities
systematise creativity:
codify the creative process for consistent innovation
create a repeatable and scalable approach for sales growth
leverage your passion to sell without effort
craft effective marketing:
devise marketing campaigns and promotions that retailers love
differentiate yourself in the market without relying on price competition
select the right celebrity ambassadors to authentically represent your brand
strategically expand your category:
grow your product offerings without cannibalising your existing range
manage competing sales channels effectively
navigate meetings, negotiations, and secure distribution with major retailers
foster a high-performance workplace:
create a workplace that values honesty and encourages 360-degree feedback
attract and retain top-tier talent
become an employer-of-choice
hire family, friends, and friends of friends, work harmoniously and save on recruitment expenses
execute a turnaround:
conduct a comprehensive company-wide turnaround to cut costs and boost profitability
skilfully manage an executive team and board of directors
craft comprehensive business, culture and communications plans
expand internationally:
use your core business to fund international expansion
leverage data to identify international growth opportunities
tap into third-party sales channels to optimise global reach
prepare the business for sale:
attract the right investors and leverage ‘smart money’
strategically prepare your business for sale and gauge market value
engage the right investment bank for a successful business sale.
The critical question
The question that kept me up at night throughout my entire career was this: do people enjoy coming to work? As such, I made it my mission to create a workplace that ensured people did. I believe business leaders have a responsibility to give back to their community, and cultivating a positive workplace culture is one way of achieving that. Can you imagine how much happier society would be if everyone enjoyed going to work? If this book can go some way towards helping you create a happy, high-performing and profitable workplace, my purpose will be fulfilled.
Best,
Radek Sali
PART ISET UP
CHAPTER 1BORN THIS WAY
I was an unusual child from an eclectic family. Born in Scotland and raised in Australia, my father was of Albanian extraction while my mother hailed from the Czech Republic. I am a product of them in so many ways. I’m warm, loyal and hard-working like my father, and direct, creative and disciplined like my mother. This confluence of traits paved the way for my journey into entrepreneurship.
I grew up in leafy Hawthorn, a well-heeled, genteel suburb 9 kilometres east of Melbourne. It was a far cry from the farmland of Shepparton, where Dad was raised, and a long way from the soviet-ruled Czech Republic where Mum was born. As one of the only European families in this quintessentially Australian neighbourhood, our distinctive identity set us apart. I felt different. Actually, it wasn't a feeling; it was a fundamental truth. I was different.
For a start, there was my name. In a classroom of Craigs and Steves, I was Radek. Once the teachers stumbled their way through my first name, they'd encounter my middle name, Rudolf, the namesake of my beloved grandfather. Well, you can just imagine the reaction that got from my classmates.
My food was different. Most kids had a vegemite sandwich, a coconut doughnut and an apple for lunch; I had frankfurts, a boiled egg and green bananas.
I looked different. I was inordinately tall for my age, lanky and wide jawed in that classic Slavic way. I towered over everybody and compensated by stooping so I could blend in. My hair was different too. I had a flat-top haircut, quite a contrast to the bowl-cut style the other kids had.
Even my shoes were different. Mum, being European, thought that the standard-issue Clark's were orthopaedically inappropriate for growing feet so she made me wear a pair of T-bar girl's sandals that were cartoonishly two sizes too big for me. I can still hear their thwap-thwap-thwap on the hard tiled floor as I made my way down the corridor into class.
We did different activities on the weekend too. Most seven-year-old boys spent their Saturday mornings playing footy or soccer. I spent mine at Mangala Studios, a hippie-inspired sanctuary for free spirits and unconventional thinkers nestled within what was then the vibrant counter-cultural landscape of Carlton in Melbourne's inner north. I spent the day learning the esoteric arts of yoga, Japanese ink brush painting, creative dance and meditation. When we weren't at Mangala, we spent the weekends at our Uncle Bill and Aunty Bev's farm in Shepparton, picking fruit, hoeing the veggie patch and playing with my cousins amongst the land, trees and dams that surrounded the farm.
This early exposure to creativity fundamentally altered my perspective, and enabled me to perceive intricate links between ideas, individuals and procedures that might elude others. Above all, it ingrained in me the profound influence of the mind. My interest in all things esoteric began at this time and moulded me into a young thinker who saw the world not as it was, but as it could be.
Family is everything
Spending time with my large, extended Albanian family in Shepparton shaped me as a person. I didn’t realise it was unusual to sit down to a lunch with up to forty of my closest relatives on a weekly basis; to be greeted with a hug and a kiss on both cheeks every time I arrived at every family occasion; to feel unconditionally loved and supported by a huge array of uncles and aunties and cousins and other family members from the wider Albanian community who accepted me for who I was and provided me with the love and mentoring I needed to achieve any goal I set my mind too. I was blessed to grow up in this Mediterranean culture that valued family so dearly and it gave me the inspiration to re-create that same sense of family in the workplaces of my future.
I brought down the Iron Curtain
Both my parents were refugees from Communist-ruled countries. My mother, in particular, talked openly and often about the repressive politics in their respective countries, and what life was like under Communist rule — how restrictive and oppressive it was; how a progressive thought or transgressive action could land you in jail; how trust was elusive; and how even your closest neighbour could betray you. As a soulful child, I grew up with a strong desire for both my parents’ countries of origin to be free. It wasn't just a passing wish; it was an obsession. The Iron Curtain symbolised this repression and over time, it became the focal point of my seven-year-old mind. I knew more than most about the history of the Iron Curtain: what it was, and what it represented. To my parents, and me, it represented ‘the system’.
As such, my single-minded goal was to ‘bring down’ the Iron Curtain, and, in doing so, release my parents from their persecution and free the people of the world from Communist subjugation! I wished for it so hard — every time I blew out candles on my birthday cake or tossed a coin in a fountain, it was to bring down the Iron Curtain. I honestly believed that if I thought about it long enough, and hard enough, I could bring an end to this oppression. And then, six years later, something incredible happened — the Iron Curtain fell! I wished for it to fall, and it did! It was a miracle! And it was all because of me! It got me thinking. If my thoughts could bring down the Iron Curtain, what else was I capable of? I could change the world! From that moment on, I was convinced that my thoughts had the power to manifest change, and this belief has stayed with me throughout my life.
Looking back, I can see this was an unusual way for a young boy to think. I knew I was different and the kids at school never let me forget it. After a while, I just embraced being different, and went deeper into being different. I accepted it, welcomed it and stopped fighting it. Eventually being different just became who I was, and the more secure I became around that, the more confident I became in myself. My parents encouraged me to be different too. They had always sat outside the system of what a typical Australian citizen looked like back then. They had gone against the grain and they fully encouraged me and my two younger siblings, Lenka and Filip, to do the same. Dad's favourite saying was ‘Think different to make a difference’.
Ultimately, being different became an asset. It made me impervious to insult, teasing and offense, and steeled me from a very young age to not take things personally. My mother had a strong personality and insisted I take advantage of all the opportunities she and Dad had worked so hard to provide. This resulted in lots of arguments, berating and yelling, so I was already inured to verbal abuse. I endured it, and accepted it, because at the core of it, I knew her anger was born from love; that her heart was in the right place and that she wanted the best for me. This ability to endure criticism set me up well for a lifetime in business.
Mum the maverick
Mum did not have an easy life. When she was 12, her mother went in for a routine medical procedure and died on the operating table. Seven years later, when the Prague Spring erupted and violence broke out, Mum fled for London with nothing but a suitcase, two pounds in her pocket and a smattering of English. She found accommodation in a tiny bedsit on the outskirts of London, a low-paying job, and tried to make a new life for herself.
When the uprising ended, it was too dangerous for her to go home as the regime was punishing anyone who dared to return. She had the choice of going to Canada or Australia, chose Australia, boarded the ship with her husband, and landed in Melbourne four weeks later. (Yes, husband. While in London, the only way she could stay in her rental bedsit was if she had a marriage certificate. Ever the pragmatist, she married a Czech man staying in the room next door so they could both have a roof over their heads. When they stepped off the boat, they went their separate ways, without antagonism or enmity. It was a true marriage of convenience.)
By day she studied medical science at the Royal Melbourne Institute of Technology (RMIT) and by night, she studied English at TAFE. She chose science as it focused more on the numbers and less on the words. She befriended a fellow Czech student in the medical course who had better English than her. This lady became the human equivalent of Google Translate and every night my mother would take the translated notes home and study them in her own language. She graduated four years later with a degree in Biomedical Science and many years later would go on to set up her own laboratory business.
Dad the disruptor
Dad grew up in Shepparton on a fruit farm with his five brothers. Money was tight for them too. There was no electricity, running water or refrigeration and, while the Shepparton community was mostly welcoming, Dad and his family were more than aware that they were foreigners in a strange land. The boys tilled the soil, planted the seeds, picked the fruit and packed it up for shipment to the Melbourne markets. It was hard, back-breaking work but it was all hands on deck to make ends meet.
When Dad was eight, he contracted rheumatoid fever and spent a month in hospital. He went in with a fever and came out with a vision: he would become a doctor. The teachers at Shepparton High laughed at him. A doctor? Good luck with that. He was dux of the school but it wasn't a sandstone institution, so he didn't get accepted into medical school. He studied agricultural science for two years, and with the backing of one supportive teacher from his primary school days who believed in him from the beginning, he kept on trying. When Monash University opened their campus in Clayton, he won a place in their first medical school intake and became the first Albanian in Australia to enter university.
Mum met my dad in the corridors of the Alfred Hospital when she was working in a blood laboratory and he was working as a registrar. He offered her a job in his laboratory, and then asked her to marry him a few months later. In 1976, they travelled to Scotland so Dad could finish his surgical training under Dr Andrew Kay, the Surgeon General to the royal family. The hospital found accommodation for them in a freezing, cockroach-infested flat in the worst part of Glasgow. Mum was pregnant with me at the time and after she gave birth, tried as best she could to tend to this newborn on her own while Dad worked around the clock to complete his tuition. Mum always complained that I was a fractious, unsettled child, which doesn't seem surprising, given the circumstances.
When we returned to Australia in 1977, we settled in Hawthorn and Dad became an associate professor at the University of Melbourne, later Deputy Chairman and Acting Head of the Surgery Department there. He was a specialist surgeon at the Heidelberg Repatriation Hospital, and then became the director of the Victorian Public Health Research and Education Council.
Father of integrative medicine
Dad saw the power of integrative medicine long before most medical professionals. He understood the impact of nutrition, exercise and mindset on health and wellbeing. He was mystified that doctors received seven years of in-depth education about how to cure a disease, and one week's education on how to prevent it. He wanted to reverse that ratio. He was into prevention, not intervention. He couldn't understand why others in his profession didn't see that.
He told me of a time when he was doing his medical rounds with his colleagues and a supervisor. They assessed a Polish patient who'd just had a heart attack. Dad knew the Polish diet was heavy on processed foods and lots of red meat and yet the other doctors disputed that the diet had any role to play in the disease. They would poke fun at Dad and say, ‘If he'd eaten a bit of brown bread this could have all been avoided.’ It seems insane to think that was how doctors thought, but that's how it was.
Dad felt so frustrated at his inability to break through the system and was disappointed at how this hampered his progress in academia. He spoke often about how hard it was to beat their ‘fix-it’ medical ideology and wished they could blend the best of that world with the world of preventative medicine. This interest in integrative medicine put him on a collision course with the pharmaceutical industry in a battle that would last a lifetime.
The medical profession laughed at my dad, and it took 20 years for his work to be published. He subsequently went on to author over 300 peer-reviewed papers on integrative medicine, became the founding Dean and Professor of the Graduate School of Integrative Medicine at Swinburne University in 1996 and in 2009 established the National Institute of Integrative Medicine (NIIM). He is now widely considered to be the ‘father’ of Integrative Medicine in Australia. To me, he is my mentor, my inspiration and the ultimate disruptor.
Working hard
I have a prodigious work ethic, fuelled no doubt by my mother's formidable resilience and my father's relentless drive to educate the world on the powers of natural medicine. My working life started early. My first ‘job’ was babysitting my two siblings. I took this on when I was eight. Mum's instructions were as strict as they were brief: ‘Don't answer the door.’
When I was nine, I delivered 40 newspapers a day and made seven dollars a week. When I was 11, I washed dishes at La Pizza Quadratta in exchange for five dollars a shift and a pizza of my choice. (Pizza was and still is my favourite food, so I was rapt.) The queue for their ‘square’ pizzas snaked out the door: an early lesson in how to create a point of difference in a commodified industry.
At the age of 12, I worked in the warehouse of Dynamo House, picking and packing bottles of essential oils to send out to customers. Stefan Manger was the enigmatic owner of this unique Australiana homewares business. He was a friend of my father's, and our family spent many weekends at his mansion in Eltham. This artistic outpost was a melting pot where artists, writers and activists would gather to eat, drink and create wonderful works of art. I was in awe of these exotic individuals and distinctly recall the wild hair and cherubic cheekiness of a young Michael Leunig drawing his caricatures and cartoons.
When I was 13, I worked for my Uncle Hismet's country fashion shops, a super successful business that attained legendary status in Shepparton. (It's still there, 50 years later.) I also worked for my Uncle Haset, a lawyer (and former chairman of SPC, Shepparton's largest company), filing documents for his legal firm. (The Sali family was industrious. My Uncle Sam ran a hugely successful trucking company and Uncle Alan was an early mentor and always had time to guide me and provide advice.)
When I was 15 I worked at a deli after school, cleaning out the fridges and closing up the shop. The highlight? Snaffling a couple of unsold sandwiches at the end of the shift. Like most teenage boys, I was always hungry. My dream job was to flip hamburgers at McDonald's. It was the coolest place to work, but the manager revealed to one of my mates that as he couldn't pronounce my name, he wouldn't take me on. I remember the searing burn of being discriminated against for something beyond my control and vowed I would never do that to another.
These jobs didn't pay much but I didn't mind. I derived great joy from working and valued the experience. I also received an early lesson in noticing how some employers valued me and how some didn't.
Mum and Dad frequently reminded us that they had worked their hearts out to ensure we had access to every conceivable opportunity. Their ethos was clear: work should be something you enjoy. Don't worry about the money — it will come. To them, money was the by-product of a job well done and the intrinsic satisfaction of doing the job well brought about happiness. Dad always said, ‘It's not what you do, it's how you do it.’ The purpose in doing something was everything. I inherited these principles and it taught me to focus on my actions rather than on the financial result.
A practical joker
Things changed when I turned 15. I still had the work ethic; I just chose not to apply it to school. Like many teenage boys, I was more interested in footy, fun and flirting. I was academically strong but behaviourally challenged. School bored me and getting bad marks didn't bother me. I just didn't see the point of school. I couldn't understand why or how algebra or Othello was going to affect my life and I couldn't get motivated enough to care.
I wasn't altogether lazy. I played a lot of sport: Football. Basketball. Cricket. Tennis. Skiing. Athletics. You name it, I was into it. I was a handy 190 cm, and fast as a whippet, so I was a valuable member of any team. (I could run 100 metres in just over 11 seconds.) I ran the first leg of the 100-metre relay in the state championships but jumped the gun three times at the finals and was disqualified. (Our previous times guaranteed us we'd lose anyway, so I figured we might as well get a running start.)
I squeezed as much as I could into my last year at school. I did six subjects instead of five and was equally uncommitted to all of them; I learned to drive; I had a girlfriend, and played endless rounds of street basketball with my mates at the local courts. I liked to party (a lot), and have a laugh. I wasn't a bad kid but I was cheeky and would play practical jokes. During the school church service, I'd bounce a tennis ball up against the wall, and catch it on the rebound. We'd snort and snicker behind our hands, the laughter all the more illicit for the fact we were in church. I'd push my mate into the procession of teachers as they made their way up the aisle: cue more uproarious snickers. When I was called on to read the psalm to the congregation, I'd read it with a particularly loud voice, seeing how far I could take it before being called out. It was hilarious watching my mates try to contain their laughter during the sombre silence of a church service. If there was mischief to be made, I was there.
My bad behaviour drove my parents to distraction. They had scrimped and saved to send my siblings and I to Carey Grammar, one of the most expensive high schools in Melbourne, and here I was, frittering the experience away. Mum nagged me relentlessly. Do your homework. Stand up straight. Take out the rubbish. Do the lawns. Clean your room. (She was so incensed with my messy room she once dumped all my stuff onto the front lawn and threatened to throw it out if I didn't sort it out.)
One day a bottle of tablets turned up in my bedroom. My first thought was ‘Why are you putting me on drugs? I am not out of control.’ ‘No,’ said Mum, ‘But your hormones are. Take one of these each day and you'll feel a lot better.’ I took the tablets (they were Swisse Ultivite) and, sure enough, I felt more energetic, less irritable and better able to manage the flurry of hormones that came with being a teenager. My equilibrium was returned, and my trust in my parents along with it. (This was my first contact with Swisse, or ‘Suisse’, as it was then known, and I distinctly remember feeling an intuitive connection with this brand; I still recall how nice the tablets smelled and tasted. This experience also piqued my interest in nutrition. If these tablets could help improve my mood so quickly, what else could these things do?)
Unsurprisingly I didn't do well in Year 12. I got low marks (62.75, in case you were wondering). Did I wish I'd worked harder? Nope, not really. Did I wish I'd got better marks? Yes, to please my parents. But I knew instinctively I'd find something I'd love and turn it into a success. I didn't mind working hard. When I did, I did well at it. I just wanted to work on something that made sense, had purpose and was useful. School didn't meet those criteria. I wanted to go to university but my marks didn't leave me with many choices, so I enrolled in an Arts degree at La Trobe, majoring in Law (to appease my parents who thought I might become a lawyer), Politics and Cinema Studies. The Cinema course, which was really the only component of the degree that interested me, had limited numbers and I didn't get in. When I told my mum I'd been denied entry, she rang the faculty head, gave them a blast, demanded they enrol her son, and hung up. It worked. I got a place in the course. As mentioned, my mother was rather formidable, and yet deep down, I knew her every action came from a place of unconditional love and a fierce desire to give me access to every opportunity she could provide.
Getting to the campus was my first challenge. It was in Bundoora, a two-hour round trip from Hawthorn. I bought a Datsun Stanza, (aka ‘The Silver Bullet’) off my Uncle Ludek for $800 and spent a further $800 on a car radio. It was worth it; driving to and from campus each day with Pearl Jam blaring at full tilt was my idea of heaven. (I still have the tinnitus to show for it!)
The La Trobe University campus was way out north, and way out of my comfort zone. This was not an Ivy League institution. It was a hotbed of political activity where the disenfranchised, the disengaged, the left, the greens, the feminists, and the socialists all came together to contest their ideals and compete to have their opinions heard. Many of the students came from disadvantaged backgrounds. This experience opened my eyes to issues of social class and I saw that not everybody got access to the same resources and opportunities that I had received. I got high distinctions in the Cinema Studies course without a lot of effort, mainly because I was learning about something I loved. This was another early lesson: if I wanted to succeed at something, I had to have a passion for it.
Give the gift of time
Time is one of the most valuable currencies we can offer those we love. I get this from Dad. He would come and meet me for lunch at The Agora pub on campus every week. He was incredibly busy with his work but he always made time to be with me. I have never forgotten that and it's why we are still so close today.
CHAPTER 2VILLAGE LIFE
I've always loved the movies. My dream job (after failing to secure a job at McDonald's) was to work in a video store and maybe one day produce and direct movies, like Quentin Tarantino. My dad's family had a history with Village cinemas so when I finished school and was looking for a job, he lined up an interview with John Anderson, the CEO of Village Roadshow. The interview with John went well until at the end when he asked, ‘What cinema would you like to start at?’
I said, ‘Forest Hill.’
He said, ‘That's a Hoyts.’
My first lesson learnt. Do your research.
In 1994, I started as an Entertainment Service Provider (or ESP) at Village Doncaster. As cutesy as it seems, the acronym had resonance. It totally represented what we were trained to do, which was to predict what the customer wanted before they even knew themselves — to think ahead and be of service so that we could deliver on the extraordinary, rather than just do what everyone else was doing.
I did a bit of everything. I was the guy who sold the ice creams at the candy bar, tore the tickets at the door, and swept the popcorn off the floor. I was the guy who stood at the back of the cinema watching the first five minutes of the film to make sure that the sound was up, the lights went down, and the film was in focus. I counted the money at the end of the night, locked up and set the alarm. I was that guy.
One of my early jobs was to compare our ticket prices with those of other local cinemas to ensure we were competitive. (This was pre-internet so it did take some sleuthing.) I did my research and noticed that the cinemas at Forest Hill (the Hoyts one) had increased their prices by 50 cents. This was news! This had to be reported! I rang my boss, John Iozzi, the National Operations Manager, and dutifully delivered the intel. Well, you'd think I'd discovered the cure for cancer. He told me in earnest tones how important that piece of information was, how it would ensure we remained competitive and how it would be acted upon immediately for the betterment of the wider organisation. I left work that night walking on air. I felt like I had been useful, that my actions mattered and that I had made a difference. This was one of my first lessons in business. Give praise.
The power of praise
Praise is an immensely motivating force. It's so easy to forget about the good things people do, and yet a little compliment, a thank you, or a moment of gratitude play a huge role in helping people feel valued. Even those who look super chilled and are highly accomplished need recognition. We're all hardwired to respond to praise.
Diversity rules
In 1995, I was promoted to the role of Candy Bar Supervisor and then Shift Manager. It was a more complex role but I loved the challenge of leading people and helping them find the right job for their personality. In 1996, the cinema industry underwent a major revolution when single-venue theatres became enormous multi-cinema complexes, or multiplexes. Village was at the forefront of this disruption and was instrumental in ushering in a raft of innovations. I was transferred to the Jam Factory, a newly built luxurious multiplex in South Yarra, a trendy suburb 6 kilometres south of Melbourne, and was stoked to be taking on a leadership role at this exciting time.
At the time, the Jam Factory had an unusual hiring policy in that they would only employ people with a creative arts background. If you were an actor, writer, dancer or director, you could get a job. As such, I was the first employee at the Jam Factory to have any cinema credentials, so it was quite a challenge to train up a team of people who had zero experience in cinema management. This worked in my favour because I was the only one who really planned on making the cinema their career. I wanted to run the movies. They wanted to be in the movies. This in turn made it easy for me to stand out and be noticed as most of the team were just marking time until they got their big break.
The Jam Factory opened my eyes to what diversity really meant. These actors and performers were more uninhibited, progressive, and curious than other people I mixed with, and while it was a little confronting at the start, I soon came to appreciate their flamboyant and expressive personalities, and quickly learned the values of acceptance, open-mindedness, and tolerance.
These creative souls were challenging to manage in some ways as they weren't motivated by the traditional methods that others responded to. More money, more shifts or management progression didn't inspire them to work harder, care more or do a better job. I had to find new and innovative ways to inspire them, and took great pleasure in trying to find the lever that would motivate each person, and then look for ways to use that lever. I worked hard to understand their unique personalities and the forces that drove them. I realised it had to be positive, rather than negative, reinforcement, so I rewarded those who did great work with a range of incentives: more flexible shifts, easier shifts that wouldn't tax them after a big show the night before, free movies, access to exclusive previews, or roles that were more amenable to their personality.
My apprenticeship
My job at the Jam Factory job was only part-time, but it was a deep-dive apprenticeship into how to run what would become a billion-dollar business, and I was so excited to have a front row seat. I worked with some great leaders during this time and learned a lot about how to manage such a complex and diverse array of personalities. Janine Allis, the founder of Boost Juice, was the General Manager of Knox Cinema at the time, and would become a leader from whom I'd gain a great deal of inspiration. With the right experiences, I knew I could replicate her success. Jacqui Perks was a Location Manager at the tender age of 20, and she inspired me to aim high too. Diane Moret was another exceptional leader. She was 45, a ‘mother hen’ to everyone, and an inspiring presence who empowered everyone to give their best. If you asked questions, showed initiative and owned your responsibilities, she'd give you the freedom to do your job as you saw fit. She gave swift, accurate and timely feedback on a regular basis so you always knew where you stood. She believed that if you got to the end of the year and you received feedback that was a surprise to you, then your leader had failed you.
