one helluva week

Strictly by the numbers:
0 — number of times I raised my voice in anger
0 — amount of money I paid myself this week
1 — person fired
2 — safety stand-downs
410 — feet of 12” pipe I laid and buried
850 — dollars wasted on the wrong color paint
3,200 — miles driven in 8 days
45,000 — dollars paid out to others this week

This is the first time I’ve been able to sit down and write all week.

It feels good to finally be at my computer, writing, notebook open, new pen in hand.

I found a gently used Montblanc 149 fountain pen on Thursday, I’ve wanted for years. I have been writing with fountain pens for over 15 years, it felt like the right time to buy it since I am having to write the “how to” manual for my guys.

2025 has been one hell of a milestone year for my companies.

All that growth? It’s showing the cracks.

It’s exposing the places where I’ve been sloppy or too loose.

I’ve built businesses before.

I have developed training programs, written SOPs, earned ISO 9001 certifications.

I have learned from the greatest teachers, now it’s my turn to give back.

I know the process.
I know the structure.
I know what success looks like.

When I started our companies in 2017, I brought that same rigor.

But it was too much too early.

I was imagining ERP systems, and whether to use LIFO or FIFO, all that energy spent building, and we weren’t even making money yet.

I had to unlearn some things.

I had to adapt, to loosen the grip just to survive.

But this year?

The sabbatical is over.

The old me,  the one who knows process, discipline, and structure,  has to come back.

I will not be in slacks and button down shirts, but I will have my fountain pens.

This week taught me a hard but simple lesson:

I can’t hold people accountable for things they were never properly trained to do.
I can’t expect men to follow rules they’ve never been shown.
I can’t get to the next level until I have covered the basics.

Below a certain revenue level, the process feels like a burden.
But once you pass that threshold, it’s the very thing that keeps everything from collapsing.

It’s the price you must pay to continue playing.

Over dinner this week, my business partner looked at me, smiled, and said:
“You already know how to do all of this. You’ve got this.”

I sat in my truck, looked down at my new pen and empty notebook, it felt fitting for where I am right now.

Time to start again.
Time to rebuild, this time with discipline, structure, and grit.

Positive message:
Here’s the truth,  growth isn’t glamorous.

It’s uncomfortable.

It exposes you.

But grit is what bridges the gap between chaos and control.

Start where you are, with what you have, and keep going.

Blank pages don’t stay blank for long.