Reflections from two years of social entrepreneurship ??

It’s GoodWork’s second birthday ??

Two years ago today, I launched an idea and a website. It took five months to raise enough funds to launch a programme, eight months to bring that programme to life, over a year to start paying myself, and fifteen months to start growing a team.

I’ve learned a lot.?

On the eve of our third, biggest programme launch yet, and in celebration of our second birthday, I thought I’d share some of my reflections from two years as a social entrepreneur. ?

Non-profit does not = lack of commercial sense.

Putting young people’s best interests first and operating a sensible commercial model do not always go hand in hand. But if we can’t pay the bills, we can't pursue our mission. It’s never easy to refuse to put candidates forward for roles when companies won’t contribute to our costs, but if we undervalue our work, we won’t be here two years from now.

Getting advice is easy. Deciding what to with it is hard.

Everyone’s got an opinion. It’s lovely that so many people care about what we do, but sometimes the volume and frequency of feedback (often unsolicited) gets on top of me. I’ve learned to have an open mind but to be selective about whose advice I always listen to, whose I’m open to and whose I let wash over me. When in doubt, I go with my instincts. They’ve got me this far.

You can only go on so many leadership courses.

You need to spend time actually leading to achieve…anything. You also need money in the bank and the more time you spend on leadership programmes, the less you’re spending on the bottom line. It’s often said that underrepresented entrepreneurs (such as: women, disabled people and people of colour) are over-mentored and underfunded. It is absolutely true.

There is an alchemy to corporate partnerships (that I’ve yet to master).

It’s hard to land partners without track record, but you can’t build track record without partners. Securing strong, financially viable partnerships takes time and is endlessly frustrating. If, like me, you’re not a natural salesperson (and you hate chasing people...), it’s not an easy role to have.

I’ve learned a lot about how to convey our USP, the importance of getting to the actual decision makers and when to accept that simply, it’s never going to happen. It never gets easier but you do suddenly realise that you’re playing with bigger numbers and larger partnerships. Perspective can help when progress feels slow.

Learn to say no.

I’m not too important to talk to anyone, but I am too busy to talk to everyone. The day I accepted I could no longer reply to every DM, or take every call, was game changing. On a similar vein, accepting that not every potential brand building activity is worth the time it takes to make it happen also helped me to become more strategic with where I invest my energy. People will think you're being rude when you say no. That is a them problem.

It's cliché, but the single most important thing you can do is take care of yourself.

I won’t pretend that I work a 9-5, that I’ve taken enough time off in the last couple of years, or that it isn’t necessary to put in a lot of hours to make any business successful. But I have to have boundaries. If I’m exhausted and stressed, I’m rubbish at my job and far from the best version of myself. No one wins. ?

It’s all about who you celebrate with (and who picks you up when you’re down).

I was lucky to already have amazing people in my life, and I’ve met a lot more in the last few years. Our volunteers, NEDs, our growing team, and people who just love what we do and do whatever they can to help.

I am incredibly fortunate to have so many people who cheer GoodWork on, celebrate the successes with me and (even more importantly) listen to me moan to on the bad days too. If you’re one of them, thank you.

And finally...when you lose focus, get back to the mission.

I love my job, but it's hard. A day with young people, delivering our programme, is always the tonic that makes everything worth it. Our team genuinely celebrates every bit of progress we see our young people make. We do this because we believe in them and because we care. No matter how much we grow, that will never change.