You won’t make money.
You won’t be good enough.
Your parents won’t understand.
It’s too competitive.
You might have to get a real job.

A few years ago, we got our first national account. We thought we hit it big when we worked with Lyft. Then, we knew we hit it big when we worked with Samsung. But we didn't really hit anything. We did the projects, we got some nice checks, and we put the logos on our websites. It gave us some status and credibility, which is valuable, but not necessarily meaningful.

And then you all get back to work. And you do your best. But you know you don't work just for yourself or a paycheck. Not if you're doing it well. You do it for them too. You do it for the why you're there in the first place. Because you can leave anytime. But, you don't. You stay.

Imagine a marketing director or business owner who wants to grow their business.
They ask for an hour of my time. Because of my experience in brand development AND running a small business myself, I can give this person 100x the value as a freelancer on Fiverr. They will spend 100x the price on me because they believe they will get 100x the value. More, probably.

"Sticker status" is defined (right now, by me) as “a consumer perception of a brand’s value that is high enough to elicit the placement of a sticker on an object in the consumer’s daily life.” Many brands have achieved a modicum of sticker status, but few are recurring stars in this arena. The stickiest stalwarts I’ve seen are Apple, Yeti, Buc-ee's, Browning Buck, and Costa. It’s pretty clear that sticker status is regional, and it's pretty clear which region I live in. I assume that if I lived in Portland, there’d be a few more Patagonia and hemp-based brands on my list.

Years ago, an excellent client was frustrated with us. She told me the last few emails didn’t feel right or have the same strong branding as what she was accustomed to from 5+8. I was upset and quickly looked at what had been done. It all looked great and was as polished as ever. When I asked her what she didn’t like about the look, she said, “oh, it looks great, but the voice doesn’t have that same edge“

I got my first job at a plant nursery. I was 16. It was December. It was Christmas tree season. I was young, able, and eager to saw some trees and carry them down to people's cars. It was the perfect first gig, and I knew it would be a picturesque, Americana-memory I'd never forget.

It’s been 10 years since I quit my job and started 5+8. I didn’t want to write a self-serving script about how we’ve made it through so many struggles and look at us now—even though that’s true and you’re more than welcome to look at us now. I’d prefer to write about simplifying the concept of starting a business and tell some truths that I feel are less often shared. I believe these truths are concealed because they may demystify the Awesomeness of the Entrepreneur. And, though I'd love for you to be mystified by my awesomeness, you shouldn't be. Please enjoy my observations on one way to start a business.

I coach my 8-year-old daughter’s softball team. I love it. Like any parent or coach, I am always straddling the line between pushing her to do her best while still ensuring that she's having fun. After all, she’s 8.