We all know the kid who terrorises their parents around the house.
The child can’t help it — it’s just in their nature. And the parents still love their kid unconditionally, even as they tear their hair out over the chaos.
That’s Vinyl Deli.
It takes so much of my resource: time, money, energy.
It keeps me up at night. It drives me mad. And I still love it unconditionally.
It’s the kid I always hoped would turn out to be the perfect star child, but instead, it terrorises me constantly.
“Make you want to kick a fat kid at Kmart.”
The whole business model is extremely unique, and honestly, I created a rod for my own back when designing the services we offer.
If I could go back and change it, would I?
Hell no.
I like challenges. I started Vinyl Deli because I felt unchallenged at work. I was tired of seeing problems everywhere and hearing, “But it’s not your job to fix it!”
Vinyl Deli was built for me — something that constantly makes me question processes, spot problems, fix things (and often question life itself).
How many problems can there be?
Trust me. Many. I’m always finding new ones and fixing them before they become bigger.
That’s the fun of it.
This post feels like a follow-up to the one where I asked if I’d ever quit Vinyl Deli. I guess I should have explained it like this:
Vinyl Deli is the problematic child. It doesn’t mean I want to put it up for adoption.
In fact, I like my problematic children. If my child were perfect, maybe I’d be tempted to put it up for adoption instead — what’s left to fix in perfection?
Vinyl Deli will never be perfect. Nothing ever is. And that’s exactly why I love it.
That’s why I love business.
The things that test us the most are usually the things that change us the most.
Vinyl Deli is testing me. That’s how I know it’s working.
Speak soon,
Jordan