The Sunday Mail
WHEN I was about nine years old, my father, who had been working for a lumber company, was out of work for a little more than two years.
Hunt for Greatness
Milton Kamwendo
My eldest sister was at Mzilikazi High School in Bulawayo and had to move to stay with an uncle at the nearby Ross Police Camp. My mother was a faithful homemaker.
We somehow had to live.
Out of inspiration or desperation, my father hatched a plan for survival — selling oranges and eggs.
Being a proud man, he despised selling and could not bring himself to do so.
He would go out early in the morning and buy a few pockets of oranges and some eggs. After school, it was our responsibility, as children, to sell the stuff.
This was my first taste of business and I fell in love with it.
The biggest challenge, however, was that we always ran out of capital to restock the business. I remember seeing some people visit our little high-density home, checking the beds we had and then choosing one of them.
Then, in the following few days, I saw my parents counting the money and the people collected the bed.
Keeping an extra bed when you have no capital to inject into the home business was unthinkable.
Thus, early on, I knew the value of delayed gratification.
One had to sacrifice a measure of personal comfort in order to succeed.
With this new injection of capital, and some revived confidence and momentum, my father bought 10 pockets of oranges and an equal number of egg crates.
We were ready to roll.
On my part, I would carry some oranges in a pocket around the various streets in my neighbourhood.
When this was finished, I would dart home to replenish my stocks.
We were in business and needed to keep this momentum going.
In time, I learnt which spots I could position myself, instead of aimlessly wandering around the township.
One spot that was profitable at the weekends was near the entrance of Mondela Beer Garden on Rangemore Road.
Boiled eggs were especially a hit.
I would boil about a dozen eggs at a time, then prepare “twists” of salt to give to my customers for seasoning.
At that early age, I knew that I had to greet my customers and present my goods the best way I knew how. Cleanliness was important. My merchandise also had to look clean, even though I was bare-footed.
I could not afford to think and act like a victim. Confidence was handy.
Decades have since passed. My father and mother are now late, and I graduated from being a street vendor.
However, the lessons I learnt back then have been etched in my mind.
Death by work
Looking back, it would sound like child abuse that I had to contribute to the family income through trading at such a tender age. Yes, I had to stand in places I would, today, consider dangerous and unfit for children.
However, we thought little about it.
While some people could have felt pity for me, I never felt I was a victim.
Selling was fun and it gave me an adrenalin rush.
I still feel this pulsating feeling whenever I am in a retail store.
Work is only drudgery when you have not connected with your passion and you do not see meaning in your job.
I knew that after school, I would remove my uniform and get on with business.
I never thought I was being forced or abused. Work does not kill but laziness does. Work is not abuse but development, regardless of income.
Work is fun and anyone who has not discovered the thrill in his work is a glorified slave, and is not likely to make success of his or her career.
Work is pure love in action.
To take my work away from me would be killing me.
Core business
The essence of business is the same, regardless of the size of business one is running.
The key words for any business are: Cash, Gross and Net Margin, Velocity, Customer and Growth.
It is amazing how, at times, we get so wrapped up in the details of the business and the depth of our learning that we forget the fundamentals.
To drown in the sea of learning and detail, and forget the fundamentals of a business, leaves the enterprise vulnerable to attack. Every business must generate cash or else it is dead.
Whatever goods produced or services offered, they must be sold and the cash received. When more cash is going out than coming in, trouble is imminent.
The essence of business is managing cash flows, watching the money and growing it.
At that early age, I knew I could not sell my oranges or eggs at the same price at which my dad purchased them.
Our first task was always to count the number of oranges in the pocket before pricing them.
Selling at a loss is not good business.
Selling at too high a price would mean taking too long to sell the oranges and at the risk of them going bad.
We needed to ensure the stock we had moved fast enough.
Selling without a margin does not make business sense.
Customers are important as they are the only source of value for a business.
A business without customers is a nightmare. There was no way the customers could know that we were selling oranges and eggs; we had to go out to where they were. We had to attractively display our merchandise.
Everyone in an organisation must think customers and marketing.
Ours was a business born out of the quest for survival.
Regrettably, after about 18 months, my father found a new job and lost the zeal for oranges and eggs.
The vending business was closed and, instead of developing as an entrepreneur, I could now play as much as I wanted after school.
During weekends, we could roam the township streets aimlessly. Desperation or inspiration powers focused action.
Without a goal in sight, there was no more urge to sell anything.
What are your goals and how desperately do you want them?
Milton Kamwendo is a leading international transformational and motivational speaker, author and a virtual, hybrid and in-person workshop facilitator. He is a cutting-edge strategy, team-building and organisation development facilitator and consultant. He can be reached at: [email protected] and his website is: www.miltonkamwendo.com
