Right out of college I moved to Guatemala to work for a social enterprise. We worked mostly with women within a consignment model. We'd loan a woman a supply of reading glasses to sell, and once she sold them, she'd pay us back what the glasses cost. Since she didn't need capital up front, she could start a business and provide a service her town didn't have, without needing money she didn't have.
The way we sold them was through what we called a vision campaign. We'd visit a town a week ahead of time, sit down with the mayor, get permission to use a central building, spend a few dollars on radio announcements, hang some flyers, and come back the following week ready to sell. This was almost twenty years ago, and reading glasses weren't something you could buy in a small town. If your close-up vision was going, fixing it meant knowing a solution existed, then taking a day off work and a bus to a bigger town to buy glasses. Plenty of people never made that trip, either because they didn't know this product existed or couldn't spare the time and money, and so they lost the ability to weave, read, and do the detailed work their livelihood depended on.
One Saturday morning I went out to a campaign with three women, and it was a smashing success. We arrived and the line was already wrapped around the community building. The women performed basic vision exams and sold glasses all day without stopping. By the time we packed up, each woman had made over a hundred dollars, a significant amount of money for a day's work.
I said goodbye and told them to call me the next week so we could start planning the campaigns for neighboring towns.
I didn't hear from them for a month, maybe longer.
I couldn’t believe it. They had found a way to make really good money providing a service their community needed, and they had no urgency to do it again.
When we finally connected, I asked why they hadn't wanted to plan their next campaign on the heels of success. They told me they'd made a lot of money, and that had bought them time with their families. They'd call me when they were ready to work again.
I sat with that for a long time. Twenty years, it turns out. I have a three-year-old now, and I understand it completely.
I think about that now because I've made a version of the same trade. I just closed a consulting business that was still successful, because I want even more time with my son, and because I want to spend my days helping other people build businesses that give them the same freedom.
Those years of consulting are what make this possible. They're my version of that Saturday in Guatemala: I earned enough to buy myself the time to build something new. This new business hasn't quite caught up to what consulting paid me yet, but we’ve planned for the gap.
I'd rather have the time with my son now than leave him a bigger stack of money later. The women knew exactly what their money was for. It took me twenty years and a three-year-old, but now I do too.
If you’re working to build a business that supports the life you want to live, I’d love to hear about it. Hit reply and it will land in my personal inbox.
Not subscribed yet? You can change that.
