Head in the game

To my left the landscape is dull, grey and flat, whizzing by at 250 kilometres an hour. Endless fields of barren winter crops, hibernating for the new season ready to produce food for millions of people across Europe.  It’s not unique, nor particularly interesting, it’s pleasantly bleak and I could be anywhere in the world, even New Zealand – if it weren’t for the train (and a fast one at that).  A farmer rides a bright red tractor across muddy plowed fields, a lone figure cutting through a vast backdrop.

To my right, a couple holding hands, on their way back to the United Kingdom, likely returning from a brief sojourn sans children to the continent.  With their fresh injection of Parisian culture, they’re discussing post-Brexit London and what it might mean for them. They’re nervous that this is the beginning of a new era.  It is.

Then there is me.  Wrapped up snug in cashmere, socks pulled up, scarf wrapped tightly around my neck, doing a poor job of defending my body from creeping ills.  I’m circling the drain of being sick, and the varied concoctions purchased to stifle the slide from cold to proper flu are spread across the seat next to me. Expensive and probably useless, they’ll be unlikely to achieve anything more than what living a few days without wine and cheese might also accomplish.  Paris has a wicked way of enticing you to devour everything in your path. 

As I sit in the middle of these two slices of life, I contemplate what lies upon my horizon, getting my head into the game. I am readying myself for another “sprint” block of business development and capital raising for my scale-up software company, Powered by Flossie. Six weeks in market with no return trip to New Zealand. This will be my 10th sprint in 18 months. 

It’s a hard slog; head down and focus required to get optimal results from the investment of my time and cost of being in London.  With the exception of a couple of weekends to Paris to check in on the 17-year-old (studying abroad), I’ll be wearing my shoes out pounding the London pavements and hearing ‘no’ a lot.  The toughest challenge for a founder is not product market fit, development, hiring, or culture – but finding others who believe in your vision and have the means to back you.  

Being a female founder, my chances of success aren’t high.  Less than 3% of investment made into start-ups goes to female-led teams.  Add the hair and beauty industry aspect and that number falls to less than 0.01%.  I’m exaggerating, of course it’s even less than that. And what a damn shame that is, given how much is spent repeatedly in this category and how fast trends can build billion-dollar businesses in a matter of years, not decades (hello Glossier, Kylie Jenner).  But it is what it is, and those stats are of no use to me, I’m foolish enough to believe I can beat the odds. I’ve come this far; I’m not stopping now.  Sure, I’m tired of raising money, but it’s part of the job and when I meet people who ‘get’ what we’re doing and can see the potential – well, it’s pretty awesome.  As I explained to my 13-year-old, there is no better feeling in the world than being proud of yourself for something you’ve worked hard to achieve.  I told her that it tastes better than any chocolate bar or fizzy drink, it’s the real nectar of the gods.

My determination is a vital component of our success, without it we’d have given up a long time ago.  And in times like now, where I’ve just said goodbye - once again - to my husband, and for another long period of time, I need to dig deep and ‘hold the line’.  Remain resolute in my focus, not get distracted by things that will not serve me and my purpose.  I never really appreciated the concept of being your own worst enemy before my last year of travelling, but now I get it.  I have to have my head in the game; free my mind of worry, loneliness and fear of failure.  In place of the unnecessary, I put strategy.  I’m building a jigsaw puzzle that comes with no picture to guide me and all of the pieces look the same.  To understand how it all fits together I need my creative energy and insight intact, and what I now know is that they work best when I’m feeling really good.  Healthy, happy, centered, connected.  That must be my priority.

It’s a lot of pressure to put on yourself, and the irony is what I have to do is remove the pressure.  It doesn’t add value to the outcome, it only adds panic.  3am wake ups to worry about the state of cashflow will not help me solve a runway deficiency.  Getting up at 7am to go for a run, walk or stretch will though.  Sleep is my everything here, it will fix all ailments and ready me to be capable of bringing my best to each meeting. That’s all that is required.

Meeting by meeting I’ll build this vision into a reality and I can see it happening already.  There is immense satisfaction in seeing strategic seeds I planted years earlier starting to grow, and it comforts me that we are making progress and that “the long game” is not shorthand for never.  I’ve had to learn to slow down, to consider my steps and the implications of my actions.  Undo and unlearn years of being an all-on, all-go person who tore through life and business like a tornado.  Where it worked in one market where survival was the only option (small-country-itis as I like to refer to it), will only create carnage here in one of the largest financial markets.  Steady hands, steady view, steady approach – hold the line.

As we roll into London’s St Pancras station my head is in the game.  The skies maybe grey and it’s cold outside, but it’s of no concern to me. I’m comfortable, calm and focused. Capable. I am good at what I do; this is what I do.  I have opportunity, support, commitment, vision and proof.  Stats be damned, I will not be a mere statistic.  This is mine and I’m here to take it.

Game face.