A couple of years ago, a good friend of mine told me about his wife's cupcake venture. She was frustrated with her day job and wanted to start a side hustle. She also knew that she wanted to bake. So she decided to start a home baking business - cupcakes. Maybe the occasional cake.
And he was supportive. He helped out with ingredients. He helped drop off deliveries. He even pitched in on the baking when required. I have a vivid memory of him telling me that after one big order how they worked late into the night and the whole order just kind of took over their kitchen and house.
But unfortunately, it took them both a bit longer to realize that it wasn't worth it. That the business model didn't make sense and the inputs (money, time, labour) outweighed the outputs (profit, joy, fulfillment).
And after hearing this story, I asked my wife to stop me if I ever came forth trying to make any of my “cupcake” ideas work. I wanted her to tell me when trying a new business or creative venture was stupid. To ask me the annoying questions that would force me to reconsider if it was worth it. If it made sense. If it would work. To be the reality check of my energy and optimism.
I love the idea of entrepreneurship. I love the thought of finding a needs, solving a problem, building a brand, creating a customer base and more. But I have never taken productive steps to get there. I enjoy the occasional creative side project, but as far as creating a business that physically exists in the world? Nope. Not there yet.
And I was trying to figure out what's holding me back. And it dawned on me - it was a cupcake problem. I had built mental barriers to entry. And I had created a system for it - asking my wife to stop me before I went too far with a “cupcake” idea. And it wasn’t until recently that I realized that the fear of my “cupcake” ideas was actually holding me back. I wasn’t executing on things because I was afraid that they wouldn’t work. I didn’t want to fail, so I didn’t want to try.
So around two years ago, I decided to adjust my framing.
The shift in thinking? Pursue the cupcake idea. With $150. Seriously. Now, if I have a hair-brain idea that may or may not be a good idea, I'll invest $150 to try it out. I'll pay to put something out in the world to see if it sticks. To see if I enjoy doing it. To test if people even want to do it. Sometimes it works. Sometimes it doesn't.
I mean, that's how I started my podcast. It was an experiment. $40 microphone. $20 editing software. And I think it was another $15 a month for internet hosting for the podcast. I know ... I originally had plans to pay for expensive virtual recording software, hire a remote editor, ship gifts to potential podcast guests and more. But for $75 I was able to knock out my first two episodes over a weekend. And now I'm 9 episodes in. Pretty cool.
The world definitely does not need another t-shirt brand with random slogans on them that make me laugh.
And that's also how I did NOT start a clothing line solely based on things that I liked to say in Franglais (that sweet sweet Québécois vibe of blending French and English to say whatever you want.) I got some shirts/hoodies designs. As I dug into it and it was just not there for me. I realized that the cost of design, production, shipping was too much of a pain in the ass for me to enjoy. And despite the low cost of production, the cost of paid advertising simply didn't leave a comfortable profit margin. Plus, there’s enough shitty/stupid t-shirt printing “brands” on Shopify. I didn’t need to pour effort into another one.
So that’s the new rule. No idea is too stupid to invest $150 in. It’s like angel investing in myself. If nothing else, it’s the price of a knowing what doesn’t work.
- Christian