“Okay, I have a great product that I spent a lot of time and energy developing, and I can produce a million of them, but in the end, so what? Who cares? What am I actually doing? What’s the point of all this? Where’s this going? What kind of an impact does this have? Who am I actually helping besides myself? There’s a colorful bird on my packaging, but what the fuck does it represent?”
These aren’t really the sorts of questions you ask yourself when you’re just trying to survive. And for over two years, that’s all I was doing. Broke and desperate I moved into a storage room with a pizza cutter and a rolling pin. Two and a half years later, when I got accepted into Whole Foods, I lifted my head up for the first time and looked around.
On one hand I was proud of what I created, but on the other hand, I was also forced to be completely honest with myself.
“Is the world really in dire need of another piece of food, packaged up in a foil wrapper? If I take this offer and put my head down for another five years, where will I be then? Who will I become? Should I just keep my mouth shut, be grateful and accept the small role I’ve created for myself in the marketplace?”
“Or can I do better than that? If I force myself to dig deeper, can I find a more meaningful contribution to make in this crazy world? Can I take what I’ve already created and try to evolve that into becoming a component of a larger, more interesting company and mission?”
It wasn’t really much of a choice and I knew the questions I was asking myself were more rhetorical than anything. The spirit of entrepreneurship isn’t about playing it safe and settling for whatever you can get. It’s about creating a vision and then working your ass off until you transform that vision into a reality. Or die trying.
What’s your vision?