My office, unfortunately for this time of year, is in Santa Monica. As in walking distance from the beach. So unless I am meeting someone or picking-up mail, I am rarely found at my office come Memorial Day until after Labor Day. Parking, as you can imagine, is a mess, and driving less than five miles turns into an hour-long ordeal.
I am too old to deal with this crap.
Traffic aside, driving to the office and stopping by to grab a cup of coffee tends to be therapeutic. But being that in the summer I don't do it as often, I changed my routine a bit.
I walk Maya a bit later in the morning and stop by my local Starbucks. The time it takes to do this is the same as my commute, but a lot more relaxing.
Most of the time I sit by myself and write down notes of what my day will look like. Sometimes, if no one is around me, I will make a few calls, but most of the time I walk with a friend.
My friend has extensive business experience and is someone that I trust whole-heartedly. She is also someone that I can confide in: From my nightmare projects, to dealing with horrid clients (don't we all?), to the dream projects that I am working on, she has always provided comforting words or sage advice on how to best deal with each situation.
Today in particular I was venting about late payments, non payments, and all the financial hell that goes along with being an entrepreneur.
I mentioned to my friend, who is a far more successful in her business than I am, that many times I did favors - non paid, of course - to prove my loyalty to my clients.
I mistakingly thought that my client loyalty would eventually be rewarded.
It wasn't.
I told her that I felt like a hypocrite telling my entrepreneurial friends to collect payments up-front and to follow-through on their contracts, when I haven't done it myself. I told her how I pressed my colleagues to "be brave" and value their skills, while I have been scared to call on late payments or call-out injustices.
She listened, didn't judge, and gave me the advice, rather, the inspiration I needed to hear:
"You don't need to do favors for your clients. You need to perform and do good work. That's it."
It then hit me: I had created all this extra work and mistakingly over-delivered, when all I had to do was to simply deliver what I was committed to.
"I" had overworked myself - not my clients.
Thanks, although received, weren't enough. I came clean: I needed, I wanted, and I deserved financial compensation for my work and exceeding results. Period.
Coming to terms with that realization felt like the weight of the world had been lifted off my shoulders:
"Do good work." No more, and no less.