Soul Trader
Starting (and keeping) a small business in mid-pandemic Melbourne
Honestly, I don’t quite know how I got here. Here = a 5 year plan that came to fruition in 6 months, due to a series of unfortunate but in retrospect fortuitous events.
I was talking to my friend Caity the other day about how some people just aren’t made to be employees. You know the type I mean. The people who are like ‘no that’s bullshit’ and ‘hey what if you tried doing it this way because that would obviously be better’. These people are boat rockers and people who aren’t afraid to say fuck no. Granted, if everyone was like this everything would be absolutely fucked, and we 100% NEED the yes people and the happy to tow the line people. I’m not one of them though.
I formerly tried a yes person job on for size - with things like super and KPI’s and way too many meetings where lots got talked about but nothing got done ever. Whilst at the time I felt I’d finally achieved what I (thought I) wanted - a reasonably high paid, management role in a council leisure facility with ‘opportunities’ for progression, it didn’t take long to realise I was halfway up a ladder that definitely wasn’t worth the climb. At some point over the two years it became apparent that the constant head-butting with team members and managers was 100% a ME problem. The work environment and other team members just weren’t for me, and the issues I constantly encountered were because I literally just needed to do my own fucking thing, rather than continuously bashing my head against a brick wall of ‘that’s how we’ve always done it and don’t ask why.’ I remember having this hysterical fight with a girl in high school, where she responded to my ‘What is your actual, like, problem?’ with ‘You’re just not my kind of person.’ Massive *ouch* for 14 year old Sarah, but I actually get it now (over 20 years later).
There’s this story or analogy or whatever you want to call it about a kid whose dad gives him an old watch, and he unsuccessfully tries to sell it at a few different places, until he finds an antique dealer who recognises it’s worth. His dad then explains to him that sometimes it takes a while to find where you fit, but when you do it’s absolutely fucking worth it (I imagine the kid is like 12 or 13 which makes it potentially OK to swear). Anyway, if you buy into this whole thing, you’d believe that we all have our people and our place out there, and mine definitely wasn’t a middle management role at a leisure center with people who are hanging out for their 10 years of service annual leave.
I’m not going to go ahead and claim I’m some ballsy bitch who gave their job the middle finger and leapt straight into launching their own business though (that would be an absolute lie but when they make a movie of my life this would make for a much more impressive story line). What happened in reality was that I resigned between lockdowns in a flurry of entitled bullshit and went straight into a job where I’d be effectively doing the exact same thing, just closer to my house (obvious win). Likely I would have become just as bored and entitled within a matter of months, however the big second lockdown in Melbourne (mid 2020) made me redundant and essentially threw me into your classic sink or swim type situation, which is where the kinda cool stuff actually happened.
I lived in a tiny, one bedroom apartment at the time, and the one thing that kept me sane was throwing out my couch in favour of a weightlifting platform that took up about 30% of my unit. Between illegal 20k walks and sticking religiously to my training program, I created what I now call Better With Sarah. Five clients connected by a Facebook group and Zoom training sessions run from my tiny living room became thirty odd people training out of the garage of the new home I rented with my then partner in late 2020. I’ve heard it said that Covid was literally a make or break for a lot of couples, and it became apparent that for us it was the latter (as well as me being a potentially closeted lesbian), as I threw myself into growing my business, pushing down the feelings that the relationship wasn’t the right one for me. Upon self reflection, my absolute go-to coping mechanism is over functioning, and to actively avoid stopping and thinking about ANYTHING other than whatever mission I’ve become obsessed over. It’s great obviously, highly recommend.
Anyway.
In November 2021, fresh out of my fairly traumatic breakup and looking gaunt AF (note to everyone that commented how good I looked during that time that I was very much not OK) I opened the doors (secretly as I hadn’t quite got the permit over the line at that point) to my very own training facility. I was absolutely fucking TERRIFIED at this point, literally making everything up as I went along, and losing my mind over the most trivial of issues (fucking Xero). Despite the crippling anxiety and barely holding my shit together most days, people came and trained and loved it. The relationships I’d built over the last almost decade in the fitness industry were genuine ones, and, as I started putting my new business out there, I realised that I was actually different in a good way, and that’s really what people needed and wanted. My years of experience as a gym member as well as a trainer in countless fitness facilities had given me a really clear idea of exactly what I wanted to build - a training space without cliques, leaderboards, and collective goals; one that recognised and celebrated the individual and provided a pathway towards better physical and mental health.
It’s now September 2022, and it’s hard to believe that I’ve been HERE for almost a year. I’ve held my shit together (mostly) for ten months. I’ve overcome Xero, implemented a new booking system, and I actually have a fucking staff member. I have email templates and admin schedules and an imaginary admin assistant named Tim. Despite this, I’m still in that state of perpetual terror where I’m holding on like fuck in case everything suddenly disappears and I’m left with nothing (rational fear…or is it?). Strangely I actually sleep fine but that’s probably more the medication and comfort blanket that is a large Burmese cat named Graham. My friend Amanda suggested that I make a list of everything I’ve accomplished so far, for those crippling imposter syndrome moments that sadly are not so few and far between. I guess this is that, with a few feelings thrown in. I’ve learnt most recently that my feelings are what makes me good at this - vision without passion is unlikely to cut the mustard, and fuck knows what that actually means, but I’m going to continue to embrace being the motherfucking QUEEN of caring, and see where that takes me.
