It was something we’d discussed a few times at a former employer, often when the corporate grind was getting to one or both of us. But we never went through with it. The money was decent when you work for asset managers. Family responsibilities. Mortgages. The risk always seemed too great.
Then, exactly a year ago today, the conversation started like this.
James: “Hey mate – just to let you know I resigned last week. No real plan but hoping the universe will sort things out.”
Rob: “It will. You are brilliant at this, remember that. Time to give XXXXXX a run for their money?”
James: “F#ck. We could try.”
Rob: “I’m in. With your brains and my looks…”
Everything snowballed from there. Countless phone calls, face-to-face meetings, conversations with former colleagues. Risks to consider. Propositions to sense check. After two weeks of near-constant dialogue, we gave ourselves a weekend to either talk ourselves – or our partners – out of it. Go. No go.
We arrived at the same conclusion: the risk of not doing it was far bigger than the risk of doing it. A chance to build something ourselves. To work together again. To ditch the corporate nonsense – the politics, the poisonous individuals, the performance reviews. A chance to find some real fulfilment at work, rather than having a cloud hanging over us and those nearest and dearest to us.
I resigned. Weight lifted. We planned. Started having conversations with people in our network we trusted. Debated what to call ourselves (I was never going to let us be called Armadillo Communications – smooth on the outside, crunchy in the middle). Built a pitch deck. Built a website. Started thinking about how to market ourselves.
A year on, this is what we’ve learned.
Get your pitch right. Former glories count for little. You can’t wing it. It’s very different being a senior in-house person waltzing into an agency meeting to being a co-founder on a call with a new prospect without having prepared your messages and anticipated the questions they could ask you. I did this on the very first call we had. A hard, important lesson. Never repeated.
Conversations with clients are never about you. Listen carefully. But if your judgement tells you to speak up and respectfully challenge their perspective, do it. It’s one of the reasons you’re on their books.
Take every opportunity to meet new people – you never know where it might lead. A night out at an ex-colleague’s birthday drinks ended with me singing ‘Save a Prayer’ at the top of my voice, badly, and meeting someone who’d worked at a mutual ex-employer and was now in a senior role at a new firm. “We might have something. Reach out to me tomorrow.” I did. That connection became a client.
Don’t limit yourself, but don’t take on work you know you’ll hate. Content is a broad church. Just because you haven’t covered something before doesn’t mean you can’t. Be willing to learn, to try things. At the same time, focus on where you can really add something and do that to the best of your ability.
Don’t sell yourself short. Every job has a price. There is a premium on quality. If they don’t want to pay what you think the work is worth, walk away.
Stay on top of what’s going on in the world and your industry. If you want to be seen as a credible agency partner, you need to be a step ahead of the competition. Read. Read. Read.
Be honest with your partner. You’re in it together. Give instant feedback. Split responsibilities according to your strengths. The work evens itself out.
Admin is the absolute pits, especially for two slightly chaotic brains. Chasing invoices. Getting accounts in order. Contacting insurers. But it has to be done.
Enjoy it. Take the downtime when you can. Watch a few frames of snooker. Walk the dog. Whatever works.
We started this because we wanted to give it a crack. Because we’re not suited to corporate life. Because we’re good at it. Because we are much stronger as a duo than we are as individuals. And because the risk of looking back in five to ten years having not taken the leap would have been a huge regret.
We have no regrets.
