14,99 €
A 5-step blueprint for business brilliance In How to Build a Business Others Want to Buy, successful entrepreneur Kobi Simmat reveals how to build a profitable, attractive business and sell it for the payday of your dreams. As a business coach and accreditation expert, Kobi built a multi-million-dollar business around knowing exactly what sets a successful business apart from its competitors. In this book, he shares the secrets he learned on that journey. You'll discover a 5-step process that starts with an idea and ends with a respected, sustainable brand that generates enviable profits. How to Build a Business Others Want to Buy shares templates, tips, and actionable insights that show you how to create systems for success. You'll learn how to identify game-changing trends, and you'll understand the 5 Ms that make or break a business: Mindset, Momentum, Management, Marketing, and Money. * Fund and own your business, without relying on external investors * Identify the top-15 drivers and metrics that make a business valuable * Develop a scalable sales pipeline and recurring streams of revenue * Attract desirable partnerships and win multi-million-dollar contracts from government and tier-one operators * Discover best-practice tools and techniques for recruitment, coaching, and building a loyal, self-sufficient team that delivers results Ultimately, you'll learn how to build a business that will survive economic uncertainty and become a highly sought-after target -- so you can sell it for a significant profit. How to Build a Business Others Want to Buy is a must-read for small business owners and entrepreneurs who want to grow their business the right way, with a lucrative end goal in mind.
Sie lesen das E-Book in den Legimi-Apps auf:
Seitenzahl: 394
Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2023
COVER
TITLE PAGE
COPYRIGHT
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
INTRODUCTION
Who knew Australia had sheriffs?
What went wrong?
My burning mission
Is $20 million worth writing home about?
Who is this book for?
Why trust me?
How this high-school drop-out built a $20 million business
When love came calling
What do you mean, ‘we've got no clients’?
Thank you, Kevin Rudd
What even is accreditation?
PART I: MINDSET
Chapter 1: Why every 15-year-old boy needs a Karen Pini in his life
My big break
A new opportunity
The big fail
An offer too good to refuse
Chapter 2: Why most small businesses fail
Why don't technicians build big businesses?
Chapter 3: Do you get it, want it and have capacity?
The mother load
How to hire the right people
How to help your team members exploit their true potential
Chapter 4: The Book of 50 (and how it changed my life)
How did the Book of 50 get started?
Keep the bubbles straight
How to accomplish unpleasant tasks
Chapter 5: Don't wear ‘busy’ as a badge of honour
A startling betrayal
Effort vs results
Profit is the goal
Chapter 6: How to think big
Coming up with goals
Achieving your big hairy audacious goal
Chapter 7: Management by walking around (the lake)
Two walks, two sleeps: the ultimate guide to conflict resolution
PART II: MOMENTUM
Chapter 8: How to choose a business idea that will succeed
Should you follow your bliss?
Why Jim Collins is wrong
Do you want to be rich?
Would you rather have been rich (and then poor), or never been rich at all?
Sliding doors
What do you want?
How to choose a business idea
How to kick start a new side-hustle
Total cost to build a side-hustle
The results
Growth strategies for Nathan's side-hustle
Outcome of the side-hustle
The bigger picture
The secret of success
Notes
Chapter 9: Ten hot subscription side-hustle business ideas
Things to consider before you launch a subscription business
Chapter 10: The leader sets the tone
Don't bring your shit home
Don't blame others —create a solution
The power of quarterly meetings
Not getting results? It's time to focus
Chapter 11: Be stoic
Team comes first
There is no leader board of misery
Chapter 12: How to work on the business, not
in
it
The Eisenhower Matrix
The 30-minutes-a-day secret to building a big business
Move into the ‘owner’ zone
What's in my Quadrant 2 right now?
Do first things first
PART III: MANAGEMENT
Chapter 13: How to choose your first hire
Doing more of what you love and less of what you hate
Who should my second hire be?
Aim to own
Chapter 14: How to recruit a world-class team
The power of the intranet
So what is an intranet?
Building a world-class internship program
Saving thousands on recruitment fees
Chapter 15: How to sack someone (nicely)
Using the right approach
What to say when you need to sack someone
The cost of procrastination
Fair exchange
What about due process?
Chapter 16: How to manage an under-performing executive
Chapter 17: How to fire a customer or supplier (nicely)
Firing a client
Firing a supplier
When in doubt, do nothing
Chapter 18: The immature entrepreneur
The dopamine trap
Staying focused
Chapter 19: Why partnerships don't work
PART IV: MARKETING
Chapter 20: Get some skin in the game
Meet Gary Vee! Live in London!
How to be 300 years ahead of your competitors
How to 10× your goals
The day the world changed
Listen to your instinct
What happened?
How to get started with social media when you don't know what to do
Chapter 21: The little club that could
A five-star dining experience
Compare the pair
If you don't know what a five-star service looks like, just ask
Don't worry. They won't want it for free
Chapter 22: Beware of the Brown Cardigans
Chapter 23: How to sell anything to anyone
Why are people so afraid to sell?
The mistakes novices make when selling
From cold to sold
The SMASH sales process
When should you quit?
When should you bring up price?
What great salespeople do
How to deal with tyre kickers
You are not selling. You are being of service
PART V: MONEY
Chapter 24: The top 21 metrics business buyers look for
What buyers look for when they buy a business
What else a buyer looks for
The power of the dashboard: what we measure
Chapter 25: How to make (a lot) more money
What does value really mean?
Price vs value
Three profit drivers
A small price rise can make a big difference
Chapter 26: How to accurately value your business and get the highest sale price
Valuing your business
What method should you use to value your business?
Chapter 27: How to find a buyer for your business
Finding an interested buyer
Due diligence
Should you hire an advisor to help you?
Shit-test your assumptions
How to create your information memorandum
Chapter 28: Don't be a tight-arse with money
Chapter 29: Why I don't like being called an entrepreneur
What have I got against being called an entrepreneur?
What is my definition of an entrepreneur?
Chapter 30: Raising start-up capital
Sophisticated investors
Smart vs dumb money
Big Brother
Bootstrap or die
IT'S ONLY TOO LATE IF YOU DON'T START NOW
Don't let the past derail your future
Focus on education
and
implementation
Don't confuse effort with results
THE FAST-TRACK GUIDE FOR HOW TO BUILD A BUSINESS OTHERS WANT TO SELL
Timing is everything
END USER LICENSE AGREEMENT
Chapter 26
Table 26.1 industry multipliers for a range of sectors
Chapter 8
Figure 8.1 the Ansoff Growth Matrix
Chapter 12
Figure 12.1 the Eisenhower ‘Urgent/Important’ Matrix
Chapter 14
Figure 14.1 Best Practice's top ten qualities
Chapter 24
Figure 24.1 my sales funnel
Figure 24.2 Simmat and Associates' dashboard
Chapter 25
Figure 25.1 how drivers affect profit
Cover
Title Page
Copyright
Acknowledgements
Introduction
Table of Contents
Begin Reading
It's only too late if you don't start now
The fast-track guide for how to build a business others want to sell
End User License Agreement
iii
iv
vii
ix
x
xi
xii
xiii
xiv
xv
xvi
xvii
xviii
xix
xx
xxi
xxii
xxiii
1
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
46
47
48
49
50
51
52
54
55
56
57
58
59
60
61
62
63
64
65
66
67
68
69
70
71
72
73
74
75
76
77
79
81
82
83
84
85
86
87
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96
97
98
99
100
101
102
104
105
106
107
108
109
110
111
112
113
114
115
116
117
118
119
120
121
122
123
124
125
126
127
128
129
130
131
132
133
134
135
136
137
139
141
142
143
144
145
146
147
148
150
151
152
153
154
155
156
157
158
159
160
161
162
163
164
165
166
167
168
169
170
171
172
173
174
176
177
178
179
180
182
183
184
185
186
187
188
189
190
191
192
193
194
195
196
197
198
199
201
202
203
204
205
206
207
208
209
210
211
212
213
214
215
216
217
218
219
220
222
223
224
225
226
227
228
229
230
231
232
233
234
235
236
237
238
239
240
241
242
243
244
245
246
247
248
249
250
251
252
253
254
255
256
257
259
260
261
262
263
264
265
266
267
268
269
270
271
272
273
274
275
276
277
278
279
280
281
282
283
284
285
286
287
288
289
290
291
292
293
294
295
296
297
298
299
300
301
302
304
305
306
307
308
309
310
311
312
313
314
315
316
317
318
319
320
321
322
323
324
325
326
327
328
329
330
331
332
333
335
336
337
338
339
First published in 2023 by John Wiley & Sons Australia, Ltd
Level 4, 600 Bourke St, Melbourne Victoria 3000, Australia
© John Wiley & Sons Australia, Ltd 2023
The moral rights of the author have been asserted
ISBN: 978-1-394-19460-5
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 WileyFigure 14.1: Notebook image: © Ananieva Elena/Shutterstock
DisclaimerThe 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 author 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.
This book is dedicated to everyone who has helped me along my journey to this incredible milestone.
To my family, Fiona and Harli, for your love and support.
To my mum and dad, Christine and Tom, for being an inspiration and instilling in me a hard work ethic.
To Andrew Mackenzie for your guidance; to Greg Jewson for keeping me grounded; to Karen Pini for giving me a start and being my other mum; to Dan Mckinnon for showing me what five star looks like.
To Bernadette Schwerdt, who has helped me to capture, then shape, all my crazy ideas into something for you to use and refer to while you build your business.
To the amazing team at Wiley who have taken this dream and made it a reality.
And to you, for trusting me to guide you with these words on your journey to success.
I will never forget Friday, 10 March 1989. I had just got home from school and was about to go kayaking. Mum was in the kitchen cooking dinner. My brother was in the garage fixing his bike. My sister was in the lounge watching Happy Days, which was an ironic viewing choice, considering what was about to happen.
I heard footsteps crunch on our gravel driveway. It wasn't Dad. He would never be home this early. It probably wasn't a visitor either. We didn't get many of those. We lived at the bottom of a long, steep, unsealed road nestled deep inside the darkened forest of the Ku-ring-gai Chase National Park, around 30 kilometres north of Sydney. The little street we lived on was so narrow you had to do a seven-point turn just to reverse direction.
The visitors we did get were often architectural boffins from a New York design magazine or a judge from the Royal Institute of Architects having a sticky-beak at our house. Dad spent seven years designing and building it. He was one of Australia's foremost architects and specialised in creating complicated structures made from concrete, steel and glass for the rich and famous. Take a look at any of the riverfront mansions dotted along the foreshore of the Hawkesbury River—the ones with multiple levels, unusual roof lines or those perched precariously on the side of a sandstone cliff—and odds are my dad designed it.
Our riverfront home was extraordinary. It spanned 11 levels, had five bedrooms, a boatshed, a pool, a pontoon, a wharf, a turret and a flagpole. From the outside it looked like a cylinder on top of a cube, on top of an oblong. Yes, it was that kind of house and he was that kind of architect. Mum and Dad were hugely social, had a wide network of friends and loved to entertain, so we spent most weekends having BBQs on our boat, swimming in the river or swanning around the yacht club.
The crunching of footsteps on the gravel grew louder. I looked out the window and saw two men walking down our driveway. One wore a dark-brown suit the colour of soil. The other wore a crisp, white shirt and black trousers with a large gold badge pinned above his shirt pocket. Strapped around his hips was a tool bag, similar to a builder's belt. It held an array of implements including a walkie-talkie, a bundle of keys and most ominously, a gun.
There was a knock at the door. I raced out, fearful that Mum would get there first. I was only 15, but I felt responsible for her—for the whole family really (the perils of being a first-born boy). Whoever it was or whatever these people wanted, I would be the first line of defence.
Mum beat me to it. She opened the door and was greeted with the six words that would change our lives.
‘Mrs Simmat? This house is repossessed.’
The man with the shiny gold badge took out a hammer from his builder's belt, fished a nail from his top pocket, and with one heavy punch, pinned a two-page letter to our front door.
He then read out the note with android efficiency:
‘By the order of the State Bank of NSW, I hereby advise you that due to financial default on the mortgage held by said bank, I, as the sheriff of the State of NSW, instruct you to vacate this house within 72 hours.’
The man in the brown suit, the bank manager, with whom my parents had been friends, stood a few steps behind the sheriff, unsmiling. He studiously avoided my mother's glare, turned on his heel and crunched back up the driveway to the car waiting at the top of the hill.
Mum and I stared at each other. Surely this was a joke, or at worst, a case of mistaken identity. Us? Lose this house? This could not be happening. Where was Dad? At work, of course. Like many momentous events in our family life, it was my mother who was left to pick up the pieces.
But this was not a mistake. This was real. Very real.
Within 72 hours, we had packed up our entire five-bedroom house; the house my dad had built from scratch with his bare hands; that we had grown up in, loved and treasured; the house that had won prestigious architectural awards and graced a dozen magazine covers; the house that formed the foundation of my life—our lives—and connected us to this wonderful river and forest.
Three days later, we were out on the pavement in front of the house, surrounded by our suitcases, waiting for the removalist truck. Our neighbours, many of whom lived in houses designed by my dad, stood at the top of our driveway, looking down on this forlorn scene.
I will never forget the look in their eyes. Pity.
I will never forget the look in my dad's eyes. Shame.
My dear, hardworking dad. My proud, upstanding mum. Both reduced to this. And us three kids, kicking the dirt, wondering what the future held for us and what this ‘new normal’ would look like.
As a businessman, my father was a great architect. The troubles began when he partnered with a construction company. On paper it sounded great. He would design the dwellings; they would build them. But it was the 1980s, an era of excess, of Dallas and Dynasty, of dodgy deals, lax oversight and minimal regulation. Interest rates blew out from 7 per cent to 17 per cent. A business deal with a local council to redesign their entertainment complex went sour when the council reneged on the deal. An unethical bank manager decided he'd like to buy the house my dad built and wanted it at a bargain-basement price. It was a perfect storm.
In short, Dad's business went bust. The bank took our home and everything in it. We were left literally on the side of the street with nothing but our household effects and the clothes on our backs. Were it not for the generosity of our neighbours, we would have had to sleep where we were standing.
When the dust settled, we moved to a low-rent suburb on the wrong side of the tracks and took up residence in a little fibro shack. It was the kind of neighbourhood where burned-out cars took pride of place on the front lawn and broken windows never got repaired.
Dad tried to resurrect his business but the recession had hit hard so the demand for high-end architectural services evaporated. We went bankrupt—not in the legal sense but in every other way. Dad never really recovered from the humiliation of it all.
Am I scarred by what happened? Yes.
Am I bitter about what happened? Yes.
Am I motivated by what happened? You bet.
That experience broke my dad, but it emboldened me. I saw with my 15-year-old eyes what happens when powerful institutions abuse their power; when influential people with dubious morals misuse their position for their own personal gain.
That experience created a burning hunger within me that continues to burn brightly to this day. That burn was to get back what I had lost; to find a way to ensure that what happened to my dad never happened to me, or anyone else I cared about.
In that moment, standing on the side of the street, I vowed that I would:
dedicate my life to finding the secrets of business success so that I could protect myself and others from falling prey to unscrupulous operators
create an unbreakable business model that would survive a recession, a depression or any other kind of economic upheaval
educate myself on every aspect of business—finance, sales, marketing, HR, technology—so that no-one could ever pull the wool over my eyes.
I didn't know how I was going to do it, but I did know I was going to do it.
By Silicon Valley standards, my business success has been modest. I didn't build a $2 billion business, or even a $200 million business. But I did build a $20 million business in under 16 years from scratch. Sure, that's not a number that will have me ringing the opening bell on the New York Stock Exchange, but in most people's language, $20 million is a life-changing amount of money. It's certainly what could be crudely called, ‘fuck-off money’.
So why should you read this book and take my advice? Why wouldn't you listen to people who have made far more money than me? People like Elon Musk or Warren Buffet or Jeff Bezos? Well, you can, and you should, but their life stories and business journeys probably won't help you build a business that others want to buy. Why? Because they are all extraordinary people, with exceptional talents and incredible timing; they are the outliers, the one-percenters, the unicorns. They were always going to succeed no matter who or what stood in their way.
We are not all like that. I'm certainly not. I am not being falsely modest when I say that I am not extraordinary or unique in any way, and I am not especially talented. I did not have exquisite timing, or intelligence, or a piece of must-have software. I didn't have money, contacts or a first-class education. I wasn't passionate about a particular topic or have a spectacular business idea. I didn't have a burning desire to change the world.
I just wanted to make as much money as I could so that I could get back what I had lost. And I did that. I built a business that became the country's leading accreditation, recruitment and business coaching consultancy. In 2022, after just 16 years in business I had a valuation of $20 million and was getting offers from buyers every few months. That business is now sold and I am now on track to build a $100 million global business-coaching empire.
Along the way, I discovered some insights that I wish I had known when I started out. If I knew then what I know now, I would have got to where I am going in half the time and with half the effort. I'd like to share those insights with you so that you don't have to make the same mistakes I made and you can protect yourself from making bad decisions that could cost you your livelihood.
It's amazing how many business owners start a business without any concern for how they're going to end the business. I understand this completely. I was that person. I was the uber-technician; the ‘expert’. I did everything wrong. I didn't delegate. I had no systems. I didn't track anything. I hired the wrong people, spent time on the wrong activities and was overly reactive to things that didn't matter.
I wrote this book for my 29-year-old self; the person I was when I started out and knew nothing about anything. I wrote it for those who want to do things the right way, the first time; for those who want to start with the end in mind. Read this book and discover the secrets of how to:
build a business others want to buy
create recurring streams of subscription-based revenue
identify the top 15 drivers that make a business valuable
know exactly what metrics buyers really look for when buying a business
develop a repeatable, scalable sales pipeline that operates without your involvement
win multimillion-dollar contracts from government and Tier 1 operators
own 100 per cent of your business and fund it without external investors or partners
spot the trends for what the ‘next big thing' will be
build a loyal team that works with minimal supervision yet delivers exponential results
develop a world-class internship program that eliminates the need to hire expensive recruiters
increase your social media following to attract lucrative partnerships and collaborations
use best practice tools and techniques to hire and fire staff, coach underperforming executives and motivate your team
sell anything to anyone at any time, ethically and elegantly.
Whether you're starting out or have been in business for decades, this book outlines the principles, policies, procedures, structures, systems, templates and checklists that will empower you to build a business others want to buy.
People say money can't buy happiness. That's bullshit. That's what people who don't have money say to feel better about not having money. Being poor is not fun. I've been there, done that and didn't like it. Money does not buy total happiness but it sure goes a long way to buying things that prevent sadness.
As I write this book, I am sitting here in my home in Narrabeen Beach, high up on the cliff, overlooking the ocean. My son is swimming in the pool, my wife is doing yoga on the deck and my dog is on my lap. I have a LandCruiser, five boats, a jet ski and a surf ski. I kayak every day, I rarely wear a suit, or shoes, and I do what I want, when I want. I recently won ‘volunteer of the year’ for my son's sailing school. I mentor practically anyone who asks me to do so, and spend most weekends with friends and family on my boat or at the yacht club. I have clawed back the life and lifestyle that was taken from me as a 15 year old and I am happy and content.
I don't say this to boast, or to big note. I say it because I've taken what was a very traumatic, life-changing event—watching my father lose everything he worked for—and used that horrendous experience to recreate my life.
I tell this story because I want to demonstrate that anything is possible.
I tell it because I want you to know that if you want to design a life, and enjoy it and not just endure it, then I have the formulas and the templates to help you re-invent, reinvigorate and reimagine what your life and business can be.
I have done it, and you can do it too. Just follow the recipe.
I was not a gifted scholar. In fact, I failed high school. I even struggled to get into TAFE, and that's saying something. After I left school, I completed a hospitality course, became a chef, laboured on building sites and then eventually clawed my way into a science degree, which turned out to be as useful as the ‘g’ in lasagne.
My career really began when I was 25 and landed my first job at Hornsby Council. Yes, it was as boring as it sounds, but it was life changing—not because it helped me figure out what I wanted to do with my life, but because it helped me figure out what I didn't want to do.
It taught me that I didn't want to work in a job where my wages and opportunity were capped; where I had to wear a suit every day; where I had no control over my time; where I had to ask permission to get time off to attend weddings, funerals and dental appointments. I knew I had to start my own business, but I had no idea what I should sell. I wasn't overly passionate about any topic, cause or sector.
As part of my council work, I'd done some auditing and assessment work and it was pretty easy, so when the opportunity came to do some auditing after hours and make some extra money, I grabbed it with both hands.
After four years of working for the council and doing random audit assessments after hours, I could see where the industry was headed. I knew the government was going to make accreditation an ongoing requirement for most industries, so in 2004, at the ripe old age of 29, I resigned from the council, struck out on my own as an accreditation specialist and launched Simmat and Associates.
It was a fancy name for what was effectively me and my dog in a one-bedroom apartment. But thanks to the inefficiencies of the Brown Cardigan men (more on them later) who weren't that keen on working very hard or creating any innovation, I was able to implement some new ideas that my clients appreciated and became successful pretty quickly. My core products were accreditation, audits, procedure manuals and systems for small- to medium-sized businesses and the occasional big corporate.
Within 10 years my business had grown to 14 people and turned over $2 million. It was modest growth but I had modest goals. We worked out of a three-bedroom weatherboard cottage in Frenchs Forest, 20 kilometres north of Sydney. It wasn't a fancy workspace. We had desks everywhere: in the kitchen, in the bedroom, in the hallway. It was, in every sense of the term, a cottage business.
The business would have probably bumbled along and delivered me an ordinary income and average lifestyle had it not been for three significant turning points.
The first involved my girlfriend, Fiona. We had been dating for 10 years. I was desperately keen to marry her but she was content to let the relationship take its course. We had a mortgage together, so we were committed, but marriage eluded us. It came to a head in early 2008 when she resigned from her job as executive assistant to the CEO at Blackmores. She said, ‘I'm heading to South America for three months. You can come if you want. If not, I'm going anyway.’ I was desperate to join her, but I had this cumbersome business to manage and the thought of running it while hiking through the Amazon jungle seemed impossible. I'd been told by a few trusted sources that the internet reception in South America was patchy at best. How could I run the business remotely if I couldn't even send an email?
Fiona was all packed and ready to go. She lovingly taunted me with her plans. ‘In February, I'll go to Mardi Gras in Rio. In April, I'll head down to the Amazon, and in May I'll do Lake Titicaca.’ Meanwhile I was knee deep in audits and procedures and racking my brain to see how I could create a system that would let me travel with her, while keeping tabs on the team back home.
I went with her to the travel agency and sat beside her as the agent took her through the itinerary. I should have felt happy for her but I felt sick. I was missing out on the trip of a lifetime, and potentially losing the love of my life.
As the dot matrix printer whirred in the background, Fiona said, ‘Last chance. In or out?’ I looked at her and realised that there was more to life than business, and that if I couldn't find a way to make this work then the business wasn't worth having. I said, ‘I'm in! Let's do it!’ Her eyes lit up. She hugged me, and said, ‘About time!’
With the tickets booked, I now had to find a way to manage the business from the wilds of South America. I bought a hard-cover notebook and made a list of everything that needed to be done while I was gone. That list grew and grew and eventually became what's now known as The Book of 50, simply because it was a book that had 50 ‘to do’ items in it.
I said to the team, ‘I'll be gone for 12 weeks. While I'm gone, if you complete all of your prescribed tasks, and you have time on your hands, go to The Book of 50, pick a task and complete it. If you finish that, pick another one and do that. I don't want anyone twiddling their thumbs while I'm gone.’
When we arrived in South America, I discovered I could get better internet in Machu Picchu than I could in Mosman. I learned two important lessons that day: those ‘trusted experts’ who said I would never get internet coverage in South America were wrong, and in future I would challenge—or, as I call it, shit-test—all advice and assumptions.
This enabled me to call in once a week to check in on the team, provide some coaching and mentoring to those who needed it and then continue with my trek. The team functioned well, the work got done and everyone appeared happy. I was quietly pleased with the system I had put in place.
Fiona and I had a brilliant holiday. The ultimate was when she (finally) agreed to marry me on a moonlit night at the base of the Machu Picchu ruins. The trip was working out so much better than expected. After 12 weeks of extraordinary adventures, we returned home.
On my first day back in the office, I walked in and saw half the team in the tea room chatting, and the other half playing hallway cricket. From the scores on the whiteboard, it appeared they'd been having a multi-day tournament.
‘Hey guys,’ I said, ‘Why aren't you working? Surely there's stuff to do in the Book of 50?’
They said, ‘Yeah, but we did it all.’
‘But what about the new clients coming through the pipeline. Surely that work needs to be completed?’
‘There aren't any new clients coming through the pipeline,’ they said.
‘What do you mean there's no new clients?’
‘You didn't put it in the Book of 50.’
‘What? You mean I forgot to delegate sales?’
‘Yep,’ they said, making themselves a cup of tea and flicking through a magazine.
What a rookie error! I had been so focused on getting the current crop of client work done that I didn't think to set up a lead generation system that would bring in the next wave of clients. It seems ridiculous now to think that I would overlook such a critical function, but I did. Like I said, I'm not extraordinarily talented or special in any way! I failed to adhere to the most basic rules of business:
Keep the business coming in.
Fill the pipeline.
Be the rainmaker.
There was other trouble brewing. I checked the bank balance and was completely shocked to discover that while there was enough money to cover payroll for the next month, there was next to nothing left after that. I was suffering on two fronts now. No sales and no cash flow.
This was the second turning point for me. I decided then and there that I would never take other people's word for how things were going, and I would never overlook anything, even something as basic as filling the sales pipeline. From that moment on, I made it my mission to create a bullet-proof lead generation system that would deliver a repeatable, scalable source of qualified leads. I would also build a dashboard containing 21 metrics that would enable me and any of my staff to see in an instant where we stood. With one click, we could track sales, leads, proposals sent, cash in, cash out, email open rates, click throughs, blog engagement, see who was hitting their KPIs, who wasn't, why not and what was needed to help them do so.
The third turning point for the business was the global financial crisis (GFC) of 2008. It was a disaster for many, but a godsend for us. In addition to giving everyone $1000 to spend on a big-screen television, Kevin Rudd, the prime minister at the time, launched the Nation Building Economic Stimulus Plan, which funnelled billions of dollars into the building industry. This money was used to construct school halls, install pink batts, dig new roads and more. It had the desired effect. The building industry roared back to life. But there was a catch: to tender for any of these contracts, the supplier needed to be accredited. And guess who had the keys to the accreditation kingdom? We did.
We were perfectly positioned to take advantage of the upswell in demand. For a start, we had no work, so we had the capacity to take on new clients. Second, we had a well-trained team, a great track record and solid credentials to win the work. And third, the building companies were in such a hurry to get their accreditation paperwork sorted out, they accepted whatever price tag we put on the work.
We became the ‘go-to’ accreditation agency for any company who wanted to tender for government or Tier 1 work. We were swamped and our business grew like crazy.
For those unfamiliar with the world of international standards (and that would be most of us), there is a global governing body called the ISO (International Organisation for Standardisation). (You won't be the first to note that the ISO acronym is out of whack. In Greek, ISO means equal.) It is an independent body of expert assessors from a range of industries and they represent almost every sector and industry.
These assessors have universally agreed that if a company wants to own the mantle of being the ‘best’ at something, and be trusted to deliver the best service, safety, security or standard, then they need to pass a series of tests. Once passed, that company receives ‘certification’, which rubber stamps them to tender for multimillion- and multibillion-dollar contracts from governments and blue-chip corporates. From food safety, to occupational health, to cyber safety, to quality assurance, to customer service, if a company wants to tender for a contract, they need to attain accreditation in that sector to demonstrate they have met a certain standard.
As a trusted accreditation specialist, I had a seat at the table of Australia's most successful companies where their top executives shared with me in detail not only the secrets of their success, but more importantly, the secrets of their failures. It's well known that any system is only as strong as its single point of failure: that unique part of a business practice, supply chain or industrial system that, if it fails, stops the entire system from working.
I discovered very quickly that if you can work out how a company fails, you can work out how they will succeed. For a man eager to build a bullet-proof business model that could survive any economic headwinds, this education and experience was gold.
My team and I became so good at identifying what best practice looked like, in 2009 we rebranded Simmat and Associates to become Best Practice.biz to reflect our unique knowledge and expertise in enabling businesses to tender for these massive contracts.
How did we know what best practice was? We synthesised the thousands of manuals, procedures, handbooks, guidebooks, templates, scripts, policies, systems and structures from the hundreds of companies we worked with, and turned that knowledge into a five-step process that anyone could use to create best practice in their industry.
The formula we created forms the foundation of this book. In your hands, you hold the keys for how you can create ‘best practice’ in your industry and build a profitable business that will withstand the harsh glare of the steeliest corporate raider, institutional investor or mergers and acquisitions lawyer.
If you're ready to stand on the shoulders of those who have gone before you so that you can see into the distance and build a business others want to buy, let me be your guide. I've been there, done that and have the scars to prove it.
If I did it, anyone can.
If you want to be successful, you need to know what success means to you. My advice? Start with the end in mind. For example, do you want to buy a fancy boat, live in a waterfront mansion and fly first class for the rest of your life? If so, you'll need to build a business possibly worth millions. You'll need to dedicate a large swathe of time to making it happen and be prepared to withstand the pressure and blowback that comes with building a substantial enterprise.
Maybe you want a simpler version of success, a lifestyle that lets you do what you want, when you want, how you want. You may not get to fly first class or drink fancy champagne, but you'll have the time and space to focus on the things that matter to you. As such, you may not need to work so hard or long to achieve this.
You can have what you want. But just get clear about what you want before you begin. This decision is important as it will dictate the type of business you need to build to generate the lifestyle you desire. Think big from the get-go. For a start, it gives you something to get excited about, and if you achieve a fraction of what you set out to achieve, you'll already be ahead.
Get these early decisions right and you'll create the foundations you need to turn a small idea into a big success.
Any teenage boy who grew up in the ‘80s will remember Karen Pini. Karen was a Miss World finalist, a Playboy model, an actress and the Lotto lady on Channel Nine. She was also my neighbour (I know — some kids have all the luck). She wasn't just my neighbour, though. She was my friend and became one of the most influential figures in my life.
Karen ran the Cottage Point Kiosk, a general store for the local community living in and around the Ku-ring-gai Chase National Park, 30 kilometres north of Sydney. The kiosk overlooked the Hawkesbury River and was the fulcrum around which the local boating community congregated. You could say the kiosk was a ‘mixed business’. It was a convenience store, a coffee shop and a wharf; it offered boat hire, boat repairs, boat cleaning and much more. During the day it was a one-stop shop for sailors and their crews, and at night it came alive with music, food and lots of partying.
When I was 15, just prior to Dad losing the house, Karen offered me a part-time job helping out behind the counter and serving customers. It was a good arrangement for both of us. The kiosk was located just up the street from where I lived, so I could walk to work after school each day and Karen could call on me at short notice if she needed help.
The job suited me on a range of levels. Mum was busy looking after my younger brother and sister. Dad was always working, his business was faltering and money was tight. To make matters worse, Mum was drinking a fair bit (‘I'm an alcoholic because your dad's a workaholic!’, she'd say). So, all in all, the atmosphere at home was pretty tense.
School was not going so well either. I was floundering and couldn't do a thing right. The kids hated me, and I hated them. The teachers at school thought I was a smart arse. They resented me for questioning anything and could see that I was more mature than the other kids, and unwilling to tolerate their inane utterings and idiotic policies.
It didn't help that my grades were poor too, which gave the teachers more ammunition to attack me. It wasn't that I lacked mental aptitude. I just didn't get what school was for. Why did I need to learn about the Magna Carta? Who cares about the Milford Sound? What's that got to do with life? School was a game, I didn't know the rules and I was losing big time.
Karen was at an interesting point in her life. She'd had a high-flying, high-profile career as a model and actress; she'd married a wealthy, well-known property developer and had three children with him. By any standard, you'd say it was a successful life. But as I got to know Karen, I discovered that the public image did not gel with the private reality.
The truth was her career as an actress and model was flailing and her finances were in disarray. She'd been ripped off badly by a manager and had not been paid for a large chunk of her work (including the Playboy centrefold). Her realtor husband was busy selling real estate in the city, so she was left to bring up three children and run a labour-intensive business that generated a lot of work for little return.
When Karen offered me a job, I said ‘yes’ instantly. It was a good fit for her and it was a great fit for me. I worked after school and on weekends and loved every second of it. It was fun, exciting and filled with interesting characters. From the kiosk window, I could see when a boat would arrive. I'd slide down the hand-rail in my board shorts and greet the guests at the wharf. I'd help them dock their boat, walk them up to the kiosk, sit them down, take their order and pour them a coffee.
While they enjoyed their meal, I'd clean their boat and stock it up with whatever they needed. When they departed, I'd give them tips on where to find the best fishing spots, the top swimming holes and the finest hiking trails. I was a veritable font of touristic knowledge!