The Entrepreneur’s Wife


As the old saying goes, “Behind every successful man is a strong, wise and hardworking woman.”

But that’s the whole point. It’s an old saying – dating back to the days when the man went out to work and the woman stayed at home. Now the chances are that both partners are working full time – and the entrepreneur is just as likely to be the woman.

So how important is an entrepreneur’s partner? Does the success or failure of your business depend not on your brilliant idea, your stellar crowdfunding or your strict control of the KPIs – but on the person you come home to at night?

It’s a subject I need to tackle – however great the personal risk! And bear with me: I’m not being sexist, but I don’t want to disrupt the flow of the post by constantly writing he/she or him/her. So I’m writing this one from my own standpoint and the pronouns are used accordingly.

First things first: being married to an entrepreneur is difficult. There are long hours, holidays that are interrupted by vital phone conversations and – as I wrote in the last post of 2014 – plenty of nights when you’re ‘there but not there’: when your body is watching Silent Witness and your mind is back at the office worrying about the cash flow.

Your wife can be bemoaning the problems one of your children is having at school, the fact that the kitchen wall is about to fall down, or the problems and frustrations of her career – when you suddenly jolt back to reality and say, “I’m sorry. What was that again?”

The bad news is, it may not improve.

Being married to an entrepreneur can put different strains on a relationship no matter how long the business has been established – and no matter how successful it may be. Different stages bring different pressures.

One day the husband comes home. “I can’t take any more,” he says. “I was determined to be at the Nativity Play this year. The boss says I have to be in Frankfurt. No more. I’ve resigned. I’m starting on my own in the New Year.”

Sadly, that may not be what the wife hears… “The dependable amount of money that goes into our account every month is going to stop. I’m going to be working a lot of late nights and we’re not going to have a holiday for three years. And there’s no guarantee it’ll be a success.”

You might not like what she’s thinking either. Oh £$%&. I was going to work part time. Spend more time with the children. Well that’s gone. Or… £$%&. That means I’m going to have to take that promotion. Longer hours, more driving, more stress, less time with the kids. But we need the money. Thanks, pal.

The decision to leave the security of a job and start your own business isn’t just about you: it affects two lives. You’re certainly changing your own career path – but you might just be changing your wife’s as well.

Three years on there’ll be another tipping point. The business has survived so far. The cash flow has evened itself out. There are even a couple of employees on the payroll. But now there’s a problem. A major customer has gone into liquidation; the business is under real pressure. Oh well, the wife thinks, if the worst comes to the worst he can always go back to Giant Corporate plc.

Across the lounge her husband is also deep in thought – and he’s worrying about two things. First of all his customer. But secondly, himself. Because he knows he can’t go back to Giant Corporate. He knows that the last three years of running his own business have changed him. In effect, he’s become unemployable. And it’s not something he shares with his wife: no wonder there’s a certain tension between them…

Ten years later it’s all very different. The business is a success. Money isn’t a problem any more. Everything in the garden is rosy. Except success can undermine a relationship every bit as much as failure. I was talking to a partner in one of our bigger firms of accountants about this. “I can’t count the number of marriages I’ve seen ended by success,” he said. “Suddenly the girl he married when he was 23…” He didn’t need to finish the sentence.

Being an entrepreneur is tough – but being married to an entrepreneur can be even tougher. Your wife needs to understand that being an entrepreneur is part of you – every bit as much as being right handed or having brown eyes is part of you. She needs to understand risk – and she needs to be able to live with it. Hopefully TAB plays its part in minimising that risk, but running your own business will always bring risk – especially if the bank are eagerly clutching the deeds to your house.

And that’s why your work/life balance is so important. As I wrote a couple of weeks ago, when you’re planning your diary for this year, get the really important dates in first – the dates when you’re with the people you love. The entrepreneur’s wife pays a high price: make sure you repay her in full.

The Time to Take a Risk


There he is – at the high stakes poker table. The four, six and eight of hearts are face up on the baize. He’s all in. Surely he can’t have the five and seven? Can he? You’ll have to pay to find out…

There he is again. York races. The horses flash past the post. Was that the slightest of smiles? That’s between him and his bookmaker…

Seven o’clock the next morning. As always, the first one into the office. A bank of computer screens. Stock market prices, foreign currency exchange – and the production figures from his factories; the sales figures from his shops. He finishes his black coffee, takes his tablets and settles into another high-risk, high-pressure day. Another typical day for an entrepreneur…

That’s the popular perception of the entrepreneur – someone who loves risk, who needs the adrenalin rush from risk, who even goes out of his way to create risk where none exists.

That’s the popular perception – and in my experience it couldn’t be more wrong.

How can I possibly say that? After all, I run my own business. Most people reading this blog run their own business – or at least have a significant portion of their future prosperity tied up in the success of the business they’re managing.

We’ve all taken risks. We’ve given up the security of the corporate world for the doubtful joy of working until ten o’clock at night and wondering why the person you thought you’d developed a relationship with hasn’t paid his invoice. Maybe some of us have had to tell our families that Christmas won’t be quite so spectacular this year – and spend January explaining to the building society that they’ll need to be patient…

There’s nothing more stressful than running your own business. You put your wealth, your health and your psychological well-being at risk.

But that doesn’t mean that entrepreneurs enjoy risk – and it certainly doesn’t mean that they go out of their way to create risk.

In my experience, the vast majority of entrepreneurs I work with would class themselves as being ‘risk averse.’ And as I wrote last week, that’s one of the key strengths of The Alternative Board – the collective wisdom round a Board table goes a long way to reducing risk, to making sure that you’re aware of all the possible downsides before you press ‘go.’

But there’s something else I notice as the discussion on risk goes round the table. Entrepreneurs define risk differently to other people. The entrepreneurs I work with see a different type of risk. Let me explain by taking you back to Newport Pagnell service station…

I’d finished another identikit motorway breakfast in another identikit service station – and I’d decided to leave the security of the corporate world and start my own business. Doing what? I didn’t know at that time. But come hell or high water, I was going to be my own boss. That meant saying goodbye to security, to my company pension, company car and all the other trappings of being a few rungs up the executive ladder.

And conventional wisdom dictates that I was taking a huge risk in giving all that up.

But if I didn’t start my own business there were far greater risks. Risks I simply couldn’t accept any longer.

The risk that I’d never know if I could have succeeded on my own.

The risk that I’d never really fulfil my potential.

And above all, the risk that someone else could dictate my schedule – and that I might miss seeing my boys grow up.

Almost everyone reading this blog will be able to identify with that. It isn’t conventional risk that the entrepreneur fears. ‘No money? Fine. I had no money when I started. I’ll start again.’ It’s the risk that can’t be quantified. It’s the risk of not fulfilling your potential, the risk of missing your children growing up and, above all, the risk of never knowing if you could have done it or not…