As his footsteps padded down the linoleum-tiled hall and secretaries outside the office door tittered with new-gossip delight, the dozing young editor realized it was time to get out.
Two years before, his employer had given him a good job, decent salary, responsibility, and even a window overlooking Manhattan’s 6th Avenue and 43rd Street, six stories below. But the
young editor had no passion for the work and never quite enough income to keep from worrying about money. He felt like a furnace with only its pilot light on trying to heat an entire
house. At lunchtime, he wondered how many in the vast Midtown crowds below his window felt the same. If his informal poll of friends and associates were any indication, the answer
was: most. Everyone, it seemed, wanted challenge, fulfillment, an ability to control their own career destiny, and immunity to layoffs. Few knew how to go about it then, and fewer
still do now. Maybe that’s why more than 50 million Americans a year purchase inspirational or self-help books about business.
I was the dozing associate editor, and I didn’t know how to go about a startup either. But that, and the foolish na簿vet矇 of lingering youth, didn’t keep me from quitting my job and
going out on my own, hoping to start, build, and sell an enterprise in 10 years. Once I set out, everything changed. I became filled with passion, purpose and empowerment, as if a
champion’s blood had been diverted into my veins, inspiring me with uncharacteristic vigor. The sky seemed no limit. Soon, however, I started running out of cash reserves.
Despite my newfound energy, MBA coursework, and subsequent reading and studying, I realized I was a clueless greenhorn who had ridden himself into the unforgiving frontier of
entrepreneurship. I was stuck on a forbidding economic desert with no saddle, a dying horse, little remaining food or water, and hostile forces closing in. The only option was to
use my wits and try to fight my way out. Ten years later, persistence and hard work provided unimaginable fruit.
