Founder's Fatigue

The quiet struggle we all experience along the journey

It starts with an idea. A dream of sorts. If successful, admirers call it that moment of genius! Intoxicating as starting a business is, the daily grind of long days, sleepless nights, negative bank balances and missed life moments quickly add up. Many fold under the pressures. Others limp along, muscling through hard days, lean years and occasional traumas. Even the most successful, celebrated by their fans, quietly suffer the compounding fatigue of a founder’s lonely journey. I hear it in so many of the founders I speak with. I was no exception.

Long before we opened the doors to the first Tender Greens in Culver City we felt it. 2 years had gone by as we struggled through the investment phase, to raise enough capital to get started. Me and Matt remained at Shutters and Casa respectively as the executive chefs while we worked towards our dream of Tender Greens. David had moved on to the Peninsula Hotel as a waiter, a position several levels below his previous paygrade as Director of Food & Beverage. We were all feeling it. Questions swirling in our monkey minds. Will this ever happen? Should we pull the plug?

Getting over the first hump

I met David one afternoon at a depressingly dingy bar in Santa Monica to address our concerns. We needed about $100k more to confidently sign a lease and quit our jobs to focus on Tender Greens. He was resistant to asking his father-in-law. Fearing an already unusual relationship could become more complicated with an investment. Matt and I were tapped. I had exhausted my network and my optimism for the future was drifting. After a cold beer and the belief we were too close to quit, we agreed that I could lead the conversation to buffer the family friction. By the end of the week, having come so close to pulling the plug, David’s family had come through, our final check was deposited in the bank and we collectively gave our notices. All attention was on the future of Tender Greens!

A little bit of validation and lessons on self care

We opened on June 12th 2006 in Culver City, CA to lines down the block! The numbers never stopped. Our dream of building a brand manifested in volumes. For a time the sixteen hour days and seven day weeks were fueled by passion and purpose. But slowly, quietly the emotion of resentment, burnout and crankiness emerged. Chronically busy, tired, understaffed we began to resent the dream we were now living. This was our first experience with founder’s fatigue. From the outside we were killing it. Admires showering us with fanfare. Family glowing with pride. Investors holding court as they shared the early days of pop-up dinners. We held our emotions tightly to ourselves. Until three months after opening the doors, we decided to close for Labor Day to give everyone a day off. I remember lying on the beach outside my apartment in Santa Monica. The afternoon sun regenerating my every cell. In and out of sleep that day I longed for a more sustained balance. David and Matt were feeling the same. We decided to use Mondays as forced recovery and closed one day a week for the remainder of the year.

We learned to take care of ourselves so we could take care of the business. Time off was the first step. My next run in with founder’s fatigue came in year two. The business was growing. And so was my debt. The start-up salary we gave ourselves was inadequate. So much went into growing the business that we failed to grow our income. I can remember the flood of anxiety as I approached the Wells Fargo ATM on Washington Boulevard in Culver City.  I would slip my bank card into the slot, stomach tightening with anticipation of bad news. The balance showing how close to the edge I was. Funds unavailable! $35 overdraft fee compounded by maxed out credit card balances. Chest tight, short breath and mind racing in search of contingency. What would I do? The morning marine layer heavy on my misery. No time to worry though, I had to get ready for lunch service. Walking back into the restaurant the team bombards me with questions. Catering preorders almost mocking me in comparison. How can we be so busy and so desperately broke? This relationship with public success and personal financial worry served as an unkind companion for too many years. To this day I can not put my card into an ATM machine without a twist of anxiety.

Don’t go at it alone.

I never could have survived the journey without the support and friendship of my two founding partners and the team of trusted chefs. We got our asses kicked so many times. Beaten down by so many things. The battle of business is won with a community of committed friends looking after each other. That was the magic of Tender Greens. The magic that carried us through all to hard times.

The journey towards creating something special is long and challenging. Best shared with friends and a few people who have been there and back. I am a contextual learner. Learning by experience. I hope to help guide the next class of entrepreneurs through the wilderness of business with deep empathy for how they feel. We all hear about the good stuff, the success. But the real learning happens in those darkest moments when we find the strength, courage and camaraderie to muscle through the darkness.