Whew. 2008 is over. I don't know if that is a good thing or a bad thing. But with it comes year-end reviews of all sorts, and the one that spurred this post was a report from the bookkeeper. (Well, that plus the imminent birthdays of two charming small people.)
Bookkeeper report: Redhead managed to increase our profitability last year by a noteworthy percentage. This news left Amy and I looking at each other blankly, and somewhat confused. What the…? Because an objective review of the circumstances would leave anyone betting that Redhead would have had a good chance to simply crumble in 2008. I know, sounds dire. But let me explain.
The Problem
In mid-June of 2007, Amy and I had a lunch that went something like this:
"Hey, I'm pregnant."
"Me, too."
"Due in January."
"Me, too."
"Oh. Shit."
Oy. Turned out we were both expecting babies, and we were due within 10 days of each other. Now, to many folks, this was "cute." I mean, really. Two Redheads. Business partners. We think alike; we look enough alike that we've occasionally been mistaken for sisters. (Although we think that's a stretch.) So, as the months progressed, and we both got round, began to waddle, and prep for mommyhood, we could hear the chuckles. "Oh how sweet. They can grow up together. How fun that you get to do this at the same time."
Yeah, sure. Let me tell you what we were really thinking: this was the single most disastrous production schedule in the history of creative businesses. At that point we were a tiny firm, two super creative redheads and a brilliant but distractible web guy. There was no way that we, a business that lives by the billable hour, could survive dueling maternity leaves. We are not the kind of business that can stock up on profit. We can't have a sale in December to clear out extra inventory in preparation for a lean January—we sell hours and we sell good ideas. There are only so many of each to sell in a day. We can't hire temps and expect them to perform to our level of creativity and give our clients the service and consulting they deserve.
And we certainly can't ask our clients to put projects on hold while we are off in maternal bliss. In short, we were in a pickle.
(quick note, this is the point at which the story could swerve to the left and discuss the state of family leave in America, and the giant challenges faced by small businesses and women business owners. But this isn't the forum for that. If you're interested in information on those topics, check here.)
Ok, where was I? Oh, yes, here's the thing, there are a lot of really, really talented creatives in Greater Lansing, so for us to utter, even once, the sentence, "We need to adjust the schedule on your project for my maternity leave" felt downright suicidal. Because at any time any client could look anywhere else.
So, what could we do? Yes, we could bank dollars to get us through a few weeks of low billing. But considering the "standard" maternity leave is 12 weeks, we were talking about the potential of an entire fiscal quarter with both partners out of the office—and this is assuming easy pregnancies and healthy outcomes. Which meant low billing, utter void of new business development, and lackluster client retention efforts.
Not. Fun.
I'll bet I know what all of the K-12 teachers of the world think when someone says "wow, it must be so great, you work short days and get summers off." It's got to be somewhat equivalent to what I think when someone utters, "oh, being self-employed must be so great. You get to be your own boss and you have so much flexibility."
Sure. Sure we do.
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