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By
Tom Hatten
dr e am on
The inspirational memoir from the founder of
Arizona’s leading fitness empire
TABLE OF CONTENTS
Prologue
Chapter 1 Just Do It
Chapter 2 Use Mistakes as Motivation
Chapter 3 Dream Big
Chapter 4 Climb Mountains
Chapter 5 Invest Sweat Equity
Chapter 6 Be Small but Stand Tall
Chapter 7 Get Ready to Pitch
Chapter 8 Plan the Next Play
Chapter 9 Get a Second Wind
Chapter 10 Make the Grade
Chapter 11 Embrace New Horizons
Chapter 12 Stay in the Game
Chapter 13 Spin the Wheel
Chapter 14 Game on!
Chapter 15 Ride the Highs and Survive the Lows
Chapter 16 Weather the Storm
Chapter 17 Endure the Bad Times
Chapter 18 Rise from the Ashes
11
13
17
25
33
39
47
55
65
75
81
89
97
105
111
119
125
135
143
– 7 –
DEDICATION
I would like to dedicate this book to my family and friends who were there to support me in the beginning and have been there along my journey. Starting with my family. My father Dave, and mother Pam, sisters Angie, and Shelly Hatten and my good friends Mike P, Mike J. Krista, and Andrea. I would have never been able to give it a shot without each of you helping in some way – for that I want to say a very big thank you!
To Dr. Christopher P. Neck whose friendship and mentorship gave me the final push I needed to seek publishing. To Carey P. for teaching me how to publicly speak and giving me the confidence to tell my story, and to Greg Boeck for helping me make sense of my scribbles. To Charlie and Lou who gave me an incredible opportunity, thank you!
Lastly, to my son Brady, the one constant throughout these years, and my biggest pride and joy. This life is yours to live: love, risk, fail, and try again. If all these words enter your mind each day you will surely find success and happiness.
Love, Dad
– 9 –
INTRODUCTION
In 1991, I had just $2,000 to my name and a dream to open a gym. Looking back, I was just a kid – a junior at Arizona State University (ASU) – with zero experience of starting a business. Little did I know what life had in store for me. I mean, who does when they are 22 years old?
But here I am 28 years later, and what has happened over the years feels like only yesterday.
I decided to share my story, not only to give some meaning to my own journey as an entrepreneur, but to show through my personal experiences that we all have the innate ability to persevere in spite of whatever life throws at us.
My hope is that this book inspires you to find strength that you never knew you had and, like me, believe in yourself and continue to “Dream On!”
– 11 –
PROLOGUE
“This can’t be real,” I thought to myself. “No one would believe this. Hell, I don’t want to believe this.”
Four more angry men joined us in the cell, yelling and cussing at the stony-faced prison guard. There were now 23 of us jammed into this tiny room with no food or water. It had only been a couple hours but it felt like days.
The day crawled on, punctuated by endless fights between inmates and guards outside our cell. I never thought I could sit for ten hours in one place without eating or going to the bathroom, but I guess left with little choice, we all adapt when we need to.
I jumped as the door crashed open. All 23 of us were ordered out into the hallway where our feet and hands were shackled. We were then loaded on to a bus where we were taken to the infamous “tent city.” Tent city was an outside jail for people who had committed minor crimes. Inmates would sleep under green cloth tents, where the inside temperature could reach 130 degrees. Given that it was June, I wasn’t looking forward to spending the next three nights sweltering under the famous Arizona punishing heat.
Even so, you could say I was lucky. This wasn’t a life sentence, and my crime was considered minor. But a DUI didn’t feel minor to me. For what felt like the millionth time, I asked myself what the hell I had been thinking getting into my car after drinking alcohol. I had never done anything so irresponsible before – I had put myself and others in danger.
Waves of grief, pain, and terrible shame washed over me. How could I have fallen so far? In a few days I would be released from jail, but the fear of what was waiting for me was almost worse. How could I face my wife when our marriage was already on the rocks? How could I reclaim my reputation as a reputable businessman after this? And worse still, how was I supposed to carry
d r e am o n
– 12 –
on with my life after witnessing one of the worst crimes the state
of Arizona had ever seen?
I was broken; my mind and determination, which had served
me so well over the past 20 years had shut down. Today was
tough and I deserved it, but what had happened in the weeks
before was far worse than this. I took a deep breath, put my
head down on the hard bunk, and took my mind back to where
it all began.
– 13 –
CHAPTER 1
JUST DO IT
In 1968, when I was six months old, my parents made the 2,000 mile trip from Minnesota to Arizona with their three children. My two older sisters, Angie and Shelly, spent the journey in the back of the rusted station wagon, while I wriggled between them in a sawn-off crib. That’s pretty much four misdemeanors and a felony nowadays, but back then it was no big deal. At the time, my parents Dave and Pam Hatten, were 25 years old and ready to start a new life. Dad had managed to get a job at a new high school opening up that fall where he was going to teach history and coach football and basketball. My mother also had taken an administration job in a public school. Within three days of arriving in Mesa, Arizona, my dad had signed his school contract, and my mom had found a house. Arizona would soon become home and the best decision my parents ever made. My parents’ determination to fulfil their goals became a Hatten trait – when we decided to do something, we did it.
My mom and dad were the biggest influence of my life, instilling all of my values early on. There has never been a harder working, more productive and intense, modest man than Dave Hatten. One of 11 children, he grew up on a farm and from an early age showed a keen talent for sports. Six feet tall, dark hair, and a thin build, he was a natural athlete through and through. He played football, baseball, and basketball in high school, before eventually settling on baseball as a minor leaguer at the age of 19. His passion for the game would never end and he loved teaching it as much as he had played it.
As for my mother, Pam Hatten, she too was no stranger to life’s challenges. She was the oldest of four kids, and unlike my dad’s family, all stood five feet tall and weighed less than 100 lbs. A polio survivor at the age of five, she had to learn to walk all
d r e am o n
– 14 –
over again. My parents were both 16 years old when my dad
moved his seat behind my mom in class – a pretty big risk for a
shy farm boy. Turned out her dark hair and fiery Irish personality
had caught my dad’s eye. They married at 22, the day after
my dad graduated college, and 55 years on, they are still going
strong.
My sisters Angie and Shelly were also pretty close, especially
as they were only 16 months apart. It seemed like they were always
together and most times I was the annoying little brother
who got in the way. They definitely inherited my dad’s love of
sports – they both really excelled in softball and volleyball – but
Angie’s first love was horse-riding. We were very fortunate
to own horses when we were growing up, but Angie’s love of
horses never left her and she now actually owns her own “mini
ranch.” Angie went on to become a 4th grade school teacher,
while Shelly was an occupational therapist for a while, before
transitioning into a career as a mortgage broker. They both are
still close to this day, each raising a boy and girl.
My parents gave all of us kids the tools and the sensibility to
make it on our own, without interference and with all the support
in the world. Through their own actions, we learned to
continually strive for more. For instance, Dad could have been
content to just be a high school history teacher. After all, it was
a perfect job for him, because he lived the history he taught
and understood the lessons of avarice that led to such crises as
the Depression. He’s not an overly political man; there’s more
of a country preacher with a dash of inspirational/motivational
speaker about him – a man who puts an emphasis on the human
spirit and the unlimited potential that lies within the individual.
But being a teacher wasn’t enough for him. He wanted to inspire
others in different ways. So, he took on more work as both
the high school basketball and football coach. That was his great
passion – coaching and motivating.
Throughout my childhood, my parents taught us to give
– 15 –
chapter 1
something your absolute best shot, because if you don’t you’ll always have regrets. Failing at something you love is better than never knowing if you could have made it. Quitting was simply not an option once you’d started something. They weren’t just talking about sports – there was always a life lesson around the corner. I’ll never forget one Saturday morning I was sitting in the kitchen, really mad at both my parents for grounding me. I was ten years old at the time. They had gotten a call from the principal of the school (Principal Kemp, who turned out to be one of my favorite adults growing up) who told them I had been sent to his office for fighting with another kid. As I pleaded my case to my mom (that the other kid started it) she sat next to me and listened, put her arm around me and said, “You know there isn’t a book out there that teaches you parenting. All your dad and I can do is the best we can and trust we get it right. But by the way you’re still grounded.” Most honest statement I ever heard! They were never afraid to hold me accountable for my actions but they were fair with it.
Looking back I was always intense, someone who was never afraid to give my opinion and maybe I made my way because of that. Sometimes it was a blessing, and sometimes a curse, depending on the teachers I had. I got in a lot of fights, and caused problems with teachers. I wasn’t an easy kid. Yes, I even snuck out of the house, ditched school. You name it, and I did it. I always thought my parents saw my sisters as angels and me, well … not so much. Not sure why I was that way but I’d like to have fun, and didn’t like authority. Nevertheless, I did well in school and averaged Bs without studying. I had good friends but I also had a mean streak in me. Not sure why, but sometimes misused authority bothered me. Bullying bothered me, people being stupid and mean bothered me. But all that faded into the background when I played my favorite sports.
– 17 –
CHAPTER 2
USE MISTAKES AS MOTIVATION
I don’t know if there was ever a Saturday that went by that I didn’t beg to go to my dad’s basketball practices. Friday nights during football season were a real event. He was the Junior varsity football coach and the offensive coordinator for the varsity. It was heaven to me, and I was always around it. I would be there when he would have the other coaches over to the house and they’d sit in the living room talking about the games and the players. I felt so privileged being in on it, even if I never opened my mouth. I remember even designing basketball plays with him on 5x7” note cards, and then, beaming with pride, watching the guys run it during the games.
My dad always made sure we were kept busy. From the time I was 12, my Saturday mornings were spoken for if basketball or baseball practice wasn’t on the docket. I had started playing baseball at the age of five, and although I also played basketball, tennis, and golf, baseball was definitely number one. Nothing I loved more than hitting a baseball or throwing a pitch and for the most part it came easy to me. In those days, we only played in the summer so it was tough waiting all year until the next season.
So on those days when I didn’t have sports practice, I’d be jostled awake at 6 a.m. to a familiar voice saying, “Get something to eat. You’re coming to work with me today.”
Dad was the classic Jack-of-all-trades. He was the last guy in the world who could sit around and do nothing. Over the summer, when school was out, he would do for three months what he did every Saturday the rest of the school year, which was to not enjoy the break. Instead, he would be out painting.
There was always a painting job waiting for me. My job was to remove the electrical plates off the walls; for that, Dad paid
d r e am o n
– 18 –
me 25¢ for each plate. You’d be surprised how many electrical
plates there are in a house. I actually made some good pocket
money doing that. Over time, I eventually graduated to a paint
brush, then roller, and eventually the “holy grail” of painting:
the spray gun. I liked the skill of painting and the sense of accomplishment
that came with completing a job. I also liked
making contacts, drumming up new business, and selling myself.
Still, as a teenager, I had no ambition to make painting a
long-term pursuit.
I also mowed lawns as long as the houses were close enough to
push my lawn mower there. Going door to door asking people
if I could mow their lawns probably gave me a taste for selling.
If the man of the house answered the door, it was more likely to
be a done deal. To his mind, he’d be helping out a neighborhood
kid, and freeing up his weekend for more family time – all at the
bargain price of $15 a lawn!
When spring arrived, there was no more painting houses or
mowing lawns on Saturdays. Baseball season was my happiest
time – the time in my life when I felt most alive. I was not great
but I felt I was good enough to play the sport in college or at
least get offers to play in college. Times were different then; you
didn’t get the exposure that ballplayers get now in high school,
but even so, I was well regarded. I played three years on the varsity
team in high school and was recruited by some Division 1
schools but I turned them all down.
That’s because, at the time, I wanted to go to one specific
school, Cal State, Fullerton. My girlfriend Amy, who was my
high school sweetheart, and herself a good athlete, wanted to go
there to study to become a dentist. I held out for a scholarship
from Cal State that never came – waited so long that the other
offers expired. The only recourse was for me to stay in Arizona
and go to a junior college. I thought I was good enough to walk
into any junior college, bide my time, then move on to a bigger
Division 1 school. That was my bold ego talking, but I was pre–
19 –
chapter 2
pared to back it up on the field. Then I made one huge mistake. The summer after I graduated from high school, I was chosen to be on a traveling all-star team made up of 25 of the best players in the state. I should have been overjoyed to be asked onto that squad, but instead I was a little peeved that they wanted me to pitch. I wanted to play third base, which was my main position, though I had also pitched in high school.
As a compromise, they said they would let me do both. I was really concerned that they’d pitch me so much that I wouldn’t get to hit as much as I wanted to. As I took stock of my talent, I just felt like my chances were better at third base. Being on this team was a big deal. I knew there’d be scouts at every game, but they wouldn’t be getting to see the best of me. So, I turned down the offer. Looking back I think about what an idiot I was to let my ego get in the way of a great opportunity. But of course, that wouldn’t be the only mistake I would make.
After that, I worked out on my own, and the next year, I walked into Phoenix Community College. The coach liked what he saw and gave me a two-month tryout, and this time I did well. I batted over .400, had some stolen bases, played a wicked third base, and never threw a single pitch.
I thought I was sure to make the team and land a scholarship, but I thought wrong. The coach finally pulled me aside one day and said, “Tom, I think you’re better than what we have, but you’re not so much better that it’s worth me giving up the scholarships that I’ve already committed.”
I was crushed, but I was still determined to play. I decided to try out for a traveling team north of San Francisco called the Green Giants. I had garnered some interest from San Francisco State, and Sonoma State, so I thought I would take a shot and try out. I drove 1,000 miles to get two at-bats, two stinking at-bats for 13 hours of driving. It took longer to fill up the car with gas then to do the tryout.
I was getting pretty frustrated by now, feeling down about
d r e am o n
– 20 –
everything, not knowing what I was going to do or where I was
going to go. My baseball dream seemed like it had ended before
it had begun and I had no one to blame but myself.
Maybe I could have practiced more, or maybe I really wasn’t
good enough but it didn’t really matter because the result was
the same: my dream wasn’t going to happen. I had failed and the
thought of being a failure was even worse than not playing any
more. It haunted me, drove me, and maybe even defined me. I
missed competing; I craved it, and I was almost lost without it.
I had just turned 20 and realized my baseball dreams were
over. Yet I was still a kid, a frustrated and angry kid who felt like
he had lost his identity. I didn’t need much help to try and self-destruct;
it seemed that stupidity was always around the corner.
I began to spin out of control for the next year or so. It didn’t
help that my high school sweetheart Amy had left me for another
guy, and it killed me that the other guy was another baseball
player. I felt she had replaced me with someone more successful,
which only magnified my sense of frustration and failure.
Much to my parents’ concern, I moved out to live with some
buddies, and things started to get a little wild. I was drinking a
lot and was probably considered something of a bar brawler; a
punk. I was angry and careless. One night, my roommates and I
had planned a party with about 40 people coming over, which I
thought would be a good distraction, but it turned out to be just
a bit more than that.
The party got going and we needed to get more beer, so a
couple of car loads of us went to the store to stock up. On the
way back, we came across a couple of car loads of guys that were
looking for trouble – they found it. Words were exchanged and
minutes later both groups pulled over to the side of the road.
Everyone got out – my buddy Craig and I got closest to the guys
and everyone was shouting at each other. At one point during
our “discussion” the biggest one of them ran away. I was puzzled
by this and kept watching him as the yelling continued. Then I
– 21 –
chapter 2
realized he wasn’t running from us, he was running towards this big tree steak in the ground.
It was like slow motion as I watched him wrench this 6’ foot tall 2” wide steak from its roots. When he finally got it out he came running back at us. Most of our group was close to the cars but Craig and I were not. It was five of them along with “steak boy” coming in our direction fast. Before I knew it he ran to the closest car and smashed the giant back windshield into a million pieces. The girls were screaming, and the rest of the guys were frozen. Then he ran at Craig and swung the stick at his head, but luckily Craig put his arm up to protect himself. I heard it as clear as anything I’ve ever heard – a loud crack. Craig didn’t scream, but he was in shock. His arm was broken literally in half. He turned and ran to the car. I hadn’t moved. I was closest to the other five guys and I was trapped. I remembered thinking that I didn’t care what happened to me. I was as low as I had ever been. The big guy came running in my direction and I told him to drop the stick and go at it man-to-man.
To this day I have no idea why he dropped his weapon, but he did. We started exchanging punches and I went down – I knew right away he had broken my nose. But it wasn’t over; I got up and went back at him. All my anger and disappointment in myself and my choices was directed at him. When the tide went against me, I started to make my way to the car. By this time I could hear more screaming and yelling, and all I could think about was getting to the car, and fast.
But as I turned away, another kid grabbed the tree steak and smashed it across my face. I managed to make it the car but just as I was getting in, he swung it one more time, bringing it crashing down over my back. All I remember after that was looking at Craig holding his arm together, and blood everywhere.
When I got back to the party, I walked in and passed out. I awoke to firemen strapping me down to a wooden plank and wheeling me into the ambulance. A friend of mine called my
d r e am o n
– 22 –
parents and told them to get over to the hospital right away. I
remember seeing my parents as they wheeled me in. I’ll never
forget their faces.
My nose was shattered, and I needed 66 stitches across my
face and forehead. My back, well it wasn’t good: broken ribs
and a severely bruised ganglia. I’d be laid up for a while. My dad
came in next to me and said, “Tom, I know you’re angry, and
can be stupid at times, but you’re not this stupid.” Then he put
his head down and walked out. My mom well, she just cried at
the thought of what could have happened; bad though it was, it
could have been a far more tragic outcome.
During that time in hospital, I thought a lot about how I had
let my parents down, but moreover, how I had let myself down.
With all that they had taught me, and with the example they
always set, I knew I had screwed up. I was angry and careless. To
be honest, I was probably lucky to have survived that weekend.
The good thing was I knew then that my days of being reckless
and lost were over. I was different I just knew it, I could feel it.
It was almost therapeutic in a way lying there in the hospital. It
marked a big turning point in my attitude. I had to get my shit
together, I had to own this, and stop feeling sorry for myself.
I like to say I failed upwards. This incident would become a
theme in my life – it would seem I always took the harder road
to the destination, but got there nonetheless. There was no doubt
that after that incident I had a better understanding of myself
and knew what wanting something truly meant. I learned effort
can’t be measured but stupidity can, as well as what is possible
when will and effort collide: will being the fluid, ever-changing
source of energy that never gives in to the demands of the day.
This horrible event in my life made me think about who I was
and the more I accepted that and pushed myself the more I’d get
out of life. So when I finally got back on my feet, I pushed myself
like I didn’t think was possible.
I enrolled into Mesa Community College and received
– 23 –
chapter 2
straight A’s. I was focused and really happy. I may have moved away from the baseball dream but not the love of competition. It was time to hurl myself into the real world.
College exposed me to all different types of interests. I found microeconomics fascinating and really enjoyed architecture, which I considered making my major. I loved the thought of designing buildings and felt I had a flair for envisioning what something should look like, as well as the nuts-and-bolts ability to go and build it. But overall, it was teaching and coaching that really captured my interest. I’d seen Dad do it my entire life and I knew I’d enjoy it. Perhaps there might be a second “Coach Hatten” in the family.
In my sophomore year at Mesa, I became an education major. I was also doing some coaching for the first time. My former high school pitching coach at Corona del Sol High School, who was now head coach at a new school, asked me to coach the freshman summer baseball team. I accepted and really enjoyed working with a great bunch of kids. It was a natural move for me as it kept me connected with the game I love.
Thankfully, my grades were good enough to be able to transfer to Arizona State for my junior year. I was still aiming toward becoming a teacher, but fate was about to intervene. Thank God for that microeconomics 101 class. The mentality of economics and business seemed to come easy to me. I liked business and although at this stage in my life hadn’t really thought about running one, I guess I had more experience than I realized from the painting business.
In addition, I was really itching to get out on my own. I had spent the previous couple of years renting with buddies and I wanted a place of my own. So, when I was 21, I put the money I had saved from painting towards a condo. It was my first adult purchase and it felt great. The condo was not very expensive, something around $22,000, which was also probably one of the reasons I qualified. It was pretty compact too: two stories, two
d r e am o n
– 24 –
bedrooms, one and a half bathrooms, and a stacked washer and
dryer. It was so small I could vacuum the upstairs and downstairs
from the same outlet! But it was mine, and I loved it. I mean
how many kids my age owned a condo? It made me feel that I
was ahead of the curve, something I would strive for my whole
life.
– 25 –
CHAPTER 3
DREAM BIG
Have you ever had one of those dreams that seems so real you’d swear that it happened? Where it wasn’t like you were watching what was going on, but rather you were in the dream? For me, that dream happened in the summer of 1990 after my first semester junior year at Arizona State University. It was so real and clear that it would define my life for the next 25 years.
I dreamt about a gym – a really small gym. Grey carpet covered the floors, and black upholstery covered the white fitness equipment. The front desk was right in the center just as you came in and a class was going on in the aerobics room on the left. The childcare room on the right was the size of a walk-in closet, and the locker rooms were in the back and just as small. Along the walls were five pieces of cardiovascular equipment. Strength and free weight equipment filled the center area. And as for me, well I was at the front desk greeting people, feeling proud that this was my place. The next morning, I woke up exhausted as if I had just worked all day, and my head hurt like I had just taken a three-hour college test. Maybe my mind was still processing the dream; I’d never had one so vivid. That night I met up with my girlfriend Andrea, who I met a few months after Amy and I broke up. When I finished telling her about the dream, I paused, sat quite still, and then said, “I think I’m supposed to start a gym.”
“Go for it!” she said, smiling.
I was 22 years old with $2,000 in the bank, my own condo, a German shepherd named Capone, and a beat-up white Toyota 4x4. What did I have to lose?
My goal seemed simple at the time: I would open a gym and make sure it stayed open for at least two years. Thanks to my microeconomics studies, I knew that most small businesses
d r e am o n
– 26 –
failed within two years, so I figured that if I could stay open two
years and a day, then I’d be on the right path to success.
The next morning I got up, ate breakfast, and went to work on
a house-painting job. But the dream wouldn’t leave my mind. It
kept barging into my thoughts as I painted, and kept on doing
so for days afterward. Of course, fitness was already a part of my
life. Not only was I a sporty kid, but I went to the gym myself.
In fact, my sister Shelly had been the first one to introduce me to
fitness when I was 16, through her part-time job teaching aerobics
at a local health club. Hearing her talk about the club had
sounded interesting to me and that’s when I started going.
I had always worked out for strength and endurance in baseball
and did the usual routines: lifting weights, running on a
treadmill, and aerobics classes. I had come to enjoy it. But of
course, I had no plans to eventually own a gym of my own back
then; that thought had never crossed my mind. Until now.
I happened to live by a gym that went by the name of Shape
Up. It was a fairly big place with racquet ball courts, swimming
pools, a running track and fitness equipment. That’s where I
would work out, and over time, got to know the owner, John,
who often tried to persuade me to work for him and become a
certified trainer. I wasn’t really interested in becoming a trainer,
but I was curious to know how the fitness business all worked.
Thanks to my conversations with John, I learned all about the
fitness club game, the steps you needed to take to open a club,
the pros and cons, and the economic realities; information that
would prove to be invaluable to me in the future.
After talking to John, I began to think fitness might be a
fun business. I just didn’t think it was a “grown-up” business,
though. It seemed short term, one that was cool, but would never
really grow substantially. I wasn’t really sure fitness would
last as an industry. Back then it really didn’t have a great reputation;
it was more about muscle building than health and fitness.
When I ran the idea past several of my friends, Krista, Mike, and
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chapter 3
Dean, they encouraged me to go for it. Krista and Andrea were my idea machines, and would be instrumental in helping me come up with a logo, which turned out to be a cactus we ended up naming “Spike.”
I began to appreciate the lifestyle and mentality surrounding fitness; if I was going to seriously consider opening my own gym, I didn’t want it to only be for “muscle heads,” like all the gyms at the time. I wanted the type of people that came to my gym to see it as a means to becoming healthier, rather than just a way to look good in the mirror.
What I leaned toward was a place that would cater to the overall mentality of health and wellness with no pressure, no preening, no back-office negotiating and no contracts! I wanted and needed the entire family to want to come. Still, it was a pipe dream, or so I thought.
Looking around, I could see that the industry wasn’t solid yet. At the time, in the late 1980s, health clubs were just starting to figure themselves out, and there was a dearth of gyms around Phoenix, Arizona or “the Valley” as the locals call it. I think there was only one national chain in town. Those facilities, however, had a lot of people going through their doors, and it was obvious there was enough demand for one more gym to share the turf.
Some clubs offered free weights, machines, and a swimming pool, which was just a little too laid back for me. That business model was more exclusive, driven mainly by higher-priced membership dues. The other option was the traditional “gym” with no pool, mostly free weights, and low membership fees with few frills, which was intimidating to anyone who wasn’t a muscle head. I wanted a real fitness center, with proven techniques and effective machines as well as free weights, an excellent aerobics program, and childcare. Most important, I wanted a staff that understood people. To my mind, I felt that the better we were at the people part of fitness the more successful we’d be.
In July 1990, although I had little idea of how it would end
d r e am o n
– 28 –
up or what would lay ahead, I officially went for it. I started by
looking for a location while at the same time researching equipment
costs and types. One day, I met with a loan officer who
showed me a list of the most unlikely businesses to be granted
loans. The top three on the list were strip clubs, liquor stores,
and health clubs; he called them “non-starters.”
So, now that getting a loan was out, I needed to find the right
property; one that was visible and would lease to a kid with no
assets. This is where my mom jumped on board and really helped
me. Some years before, she had retrained to become a seasoned
real estate agent, and she knew the lay of the land. Naturally, given
my lack of finances, it needed to be a small space. One day,
driving around the south end of Phoenix, known as Ahwatukee,
I noticed a “For Lease” sign hanging in the window of a vacant
space in a shopping center called Mountainside Plaza. There it
was, the only space left in this brand new shopping center and it
was perfect. Not too big (only 4,800 sq. ft.) but in a good location,
next to the Little Caesars Pizza, Subway, and McDonalds
drive-through.
I was fortunate to have the benefit of my mom’s expertise; she
knew the area, and knew it was growing all the time. I remembered
it quite well from my high school days – used to drive out
there to have keg parties – but now it was all shopping centers,
schools, and lots and lots of nice houses or “roof tops.” In just
a few years, Mountain Park Ranch and surrounding communities
had experienced a phenomenal population boom; from
several thousand to around 100,000. And here stood this brandnew
shopping center with just one vacant suite left.
“You don’t know me,” I told Mr. Railing, the broker for the
suite, “but I’m interested in leasing the space and putting in a
fitness center.”
Then I shared the details of my idea for my gym with him,
which took a total of five minutes because I really didn’t have
one. Yet, I must have sounded believable because he showed me
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the space anyway.
Afterwards, I called John the owner of Shape Up to ask his opinion, and he said, “Tom, if I could go back and do a small club like that, I would do it in a heartbeat.”
To my surprise, Mr. Railing did something that was really unique; he kept his mind open to leasing the space to a 22-year-old kid who had never owned a business before. During one of our calls, he asked me why I thought my gym would work. To me the answer came easily. I simply said, “I think health clubs should be different to how they are currently being run. I think caring about the people is more important than a contract. Most people can’t find the time to work out several times a week, especially when they work full-time jobs and have kids. Fitness needs to be enjoyable; it needs to be part of your life. A place for kids to have fun, and for adults to relieve the stresses of the day. It has to be a part of your lifestyle.”
After this passionate response, there was pause before Mr. Railing said, “Well, let me see what I can do.”
What he did was put me in touch with the owner of the space, Charlie Boyd, a local developer who built a couple of Safeway grocery-anchored centers as well as other shopping areas around town.
I called Charlie Boyd – I was so nervous! How was I supposed to convince him to let me put my gym in that space? I had nothing to offer, no real guarantee – just this idea and a lot of energy. We talked for a while, and he asked a lot a questions, which I tried to answer as best I could. But the final one stumped me. He asked if I had a pro forma I could send to him. I had never heard of a pro forma, but I told him I would have it to him in a week anyway. The first thing I did when we hung up was to go to the library (no internet back then), and I studied up on what a pro forma meant and how to develop one for your business. Seven days later I put it in the mail. It actually wasn’t half-bad and really helped me frame what I wanted to do. After that, Charlie and
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I really hit it off and began nut-cracking the figures and details
of opening a health club.
Things went along nice and easy between us. He even joked
around with me, saying, “Tom, if we do this deal, you’ve got to
come back to California with me and help me paint my house
there, too.”
Charlie was really low key and I don’t know how many times
he gave me great advice. He didn’t think it was a deal-breaker
that I was a kid with no real financial standing. Charlie believed
in the idea and my job was to convince him I could pull it off.
The night right before I was about to sign the lease my parents
sat me down to make sure I was truly ready for this big step. My
dad looked me in the eye and said something that I will never
forget.
“I do not know much about owning a gym, and even though
this is exciting and scary at the same time, one way or another
your mother and I will not let you fail! We believe in you and
your ability to make this work. We’ll be right here, ready to
help in any way we can to see that happen!”
I knew my parents weren’t offering me a financial safety net
because they didn’t have a lot of extra money. Instead they were
offering me their support and unlimited confidence – the best
kind of help. After hearing their words of encouragement, I
would have run through a wall or died trying to make this
work. I was ready to work like I’d never worked before, and
more importantly I was ready for the unknown.
That next day, I met with Charlie, who arrived lease in hand.
He said, “Tom I’m not sure you’re the right guy to make this
work as you are so young but promise me you’ll always give a
hundred percent effort at all times good and bad. Be honest and
true to your plan and you won’t have to worry about me if it
doesn’t work out.”
The deal was almost unbelievable. Yes, I would have to sign
a personal guarantee for the term of the lease, but if I did every–
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thing in my power to make the business work and if for some reason it didn’t work out anyway, Charlie had promised not to come after me legally for the remainder of the lease.
He needn’t have worried. At that point he could have written that lease on a napkin and it would have been stronger than any document 50 lawyers drew up. There was no way I was going to let him down, no way! We shook hands and I thanked him profusely. I couldn’t believe I had my own space. Talk about fired up – there were no words to describe how I was feeling. There was no stopping me now.
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CHAPTER 4
CLIMB MOUNTAINS
All this happened pretty fast. After all, I was back in school for the fall semester of my junior year at ASU when I signed the deal. However, I was so much more involved with opening my gym that I never could focus very well in my classes. It became apparent that I would be dropping out before long and I told my parents I had to be true to myself. I knew that would sound familiar – after all, they had taught me that lesson. To my surprise they were actually okay with it and figured something had to give to make my ambition reality. I was taking a risk and pursuing a dream much as they had done when they moved to Arizona. Now all I had to do was make that dream come true.
During the lease negotiations, I had begun looking at fitness equipment. Back then, there were probably only two or three places in the valley where you could get quality gym equipment. I remember painting a house close to one such store and going in there on my break to try to talk to the sales people with some air of maturity about renting or buying equipment. Of course I was in my paint-streaked coveralls, and probably didn’t make the best first impression. They ignored me for a bit and when I finally spoke to one of the sales guys, he just smirked and told me to come back when I had some money. They just didn’t take me seriously, and I really couldn’t blame them. I mean why waste time on a 22-year-old kid, covered in paint, with zero cash?
But then one night I walked into Tamaracks Fun & Fitness, again, wearing my paint-soaked coveralls. It had just opened up and the three guys who owned the store (whose names were Jeff, Mark, and Lee, all guys in their mid-twenties) were working there. It was ten minutes before they were closing so I didn’t think they would give me much time. I started to talk to the intellectual-looking guy, who turned out to be Jeff, and explained
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what I wanted to do. He talked me through a new line of selectorized
strength machines made by Paramount. In those days,
people just referred to strength machines as “Nautilus,” thinking
that’s what they were. Really that was just another brand
like Chevy and Ford. I went over with Jeff how much space I
was going to have and we figured out how much equipment I
could fit in there. Neither of us had noticed that the store had
closed an hour before.
One thing led to another and he said, “Look, I’ll sell you the
equipment at my cost if you can get the money. As the owners,
we’ll make no money on it, but I’m doing this because I believe
you can make a go of it, and we’ll establish a relationship. If you
do well, you’ll keep coming back here for your equipment.”
Then he paused, before delivering the final punch line, “And
that’s when we’ll really clean you out.”
I laughed and said “Deal!”
The only problem was that I needed $45,000 to buy the equipment.
I had a grand total of $2,000.
But still, I was walking on air leaving that shop. How many
people in business would do that for a 22-year-old nobody?
Sometimes I wonder how much better society would be and
how much better the American economy could become if there
were a level of trust between fledgling entrepreneurs and people
who can really help get a business off the ground. How lucky
was I, then, to have found not one but three such people, all
in the span of a few weeks? Yes, sometimes fate shines on you.
When it does, you have to jump into the pool headfirst and not
look back. I think I cannonballed!
So, I was facing my next hurdle. I may have secured a space for
the gym, but I had to raise enough money to buy the equipment.
Really that was more of a mountain than a hurdle. I couldn’t
get anybody to loan me the money I needed; hell I could barely
get anyone to listen to me! I kept pounding the pavement to the
banks and leasing companies and one door after another closed.
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I heard “No” so many times I counted them in my sleep. Every night, I replayed each “No” in an effort to figure out a way to make someone say “Yes.”
After weeks of trying, I finally had an idea. My parents had an account with Tempe Schools Credit Union for years, which happened to be one of our painting clients. I’d painted their building not long before, and so I knew Jim Simpson, the company president. In fact, I had gotten my first car loan from him. I brought my parents with me, and applied for a $15,000 line of credit.
Jim smiled, and said “Okay, but remember me if you become famous.”
I laughed and told him all I wanted for now was just to get the gym open! Then I shook his hand and ran out of there before he or my parents changed their minds. It was a step in the right direction but I still had a ways to go. Crazy to think that I was so caught up in trying to raise the money to open that I hadn’t really thought about how I’d operate once I did. But to my mind, focusing on my goal to find that remaining $30,000 was more important than anything else.
One night, not long after I had secured the loan from the credit union, I was eating dinner at my parents’ house when my mom received a call from one of her real estate clients about a home closing that was coming up. My mom sold many houses for this client, and they had gotten to be pretty close over the years. My mom told me that the client could be interested in loaning me some money. No way I thought, why would she do that? Later that week Mom pitched my gym idea to her, and to everyone’s surprise, not least my own, she agreed to loan me another $15,000 – at 15 percent interest over five years. Ouch! It was like a credit card without the card, but I didn’t care. Yes, it was expensive and I had no real idea that I’d be able to pay it back, but I couldn’t worry about that now. The simple reality was that I had a total of $32,000 and was closer than ever to my goal.
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But there was no doubt that I was still quite a way short of
cash, and what I needed still seemed out of reach, which was
damn frustrating. I thought about selling my condo but I figured
I wouldn’t make more than a few thousand when it did sell, and
there probably wasn’t enough time to even try.
A week went by and I still had no idea how I was going to raise
the cash. One night, I was at my condo hanging with Capone. I
wanted this to work so bad that I was on the point of tears. Then
the phone rang.
It was Charlie asking me how I was doing with the financing.
Trying to keep the emotion out of my voice, I told him, “I don’t
think I can get all the money I need.”
Then he asked me how close I was.
“I think $10,000 gets me there,” I said, feeling hopeless
He paused, then said something that took my breath away,
“Okay, I’ll loan you the ten grand.”
For a time I was totally and utterly speechless. Did Charlie just
say he would lend me the rest of the money? I didn’t know what
to do or say, but finally managed a quiet “Thank you!”
After I ended the call, I about hit the floor, thanking God for
my good luck in being able to pull it all together. Granted, I’d
gone into complete shock doing it; I was leveraged up to my
neck, but the math worked. So here I was, at the age of 22, unproven,
with no track record of running a health club before,
yet people believed in me enough to support my journey. When
that happens, you’re not only in it for yourself; you’re committed
to repaying the confidence those people have in you – not to
mention the money they loaned you. This was becoming bigger
than me.
Charlie had to take that $10,000 out of the shopping center’s
general fund, which put me under a lot additional pressure because
now I was playing with other future merchants’ money,
but Charlie didn’t hold it over my head.
He said, “Tom, when you’re ready to pay me back, tell me
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and we’ll figure out a payment arrangement.”
Remember, this was a man I had met probably no more than four months before, but we had come to know each other pretty well by this time, trying to find ways to make this happen. Plus, for him it was a chance to get the suite rented out to someone who really believed in making the business a success. If it all worked out then it would be a homerun for both of us. I can’t overstate the importance of having my parents cheering me on too. One of the most vital precepts in business is to draw strength from a good support system; you simply cannot do everything by yourself. You need a free-flowing stream of ideas and opinions from people who care.
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CHAPTER 5
INVEST SWEAT
EQUITY
In November 1990, I officially signed the lease. We went to work on the place and completed it in late February, 1991. It was a unique time, because during that period, all the different shops in the center were also new and there was a good deal of camaraderie between the owners. It felt like we were all on the same team. We would all be building our base together. Farmers Insurance was nearby and its agent, a guy named Al, became a friend as did his son and his family. Nearby was a Subway and a little café, and the people there would pitch in to help. The hardware store four doors down was practically my second home; that’s how much time I spent there. There was even a chiropractor who had an office next door, and he said he’d give our backs some relief when we could hardly stand up after hammering nails all day. And there was a lot to be done.
The main floor area was 3,600 sq. ft., roughly the size of a house. Another suite, measuring 1,200 sq. ft., was separated from the main floor by a block wall. This would be our aerobics room. At the rear were two locker rooms, which were about 220 sq. ft. each.
One Saturday morning, my dad, my girlfriend Andrea, and I were working on the build out. My dad was sawing some wood for the front desk with an electric saw and Andrea was helping him. I was just 30 feet away talking to some prospective members, so I could hear him sawing away behind me. At that time two prospective members called Ray and Julie came in to ask some questions. As I was talking to them I remember hoping that my dad would stop sawing for a moment so they could hear me properly! About halfway through our conversation I was relieved that the noise had stopped and I proceeded to sign up
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Ray and Julie, feeling incredibly proud that I had just secured
my very first family membership.
When Ray and Julie left, I turned around to tell Dad and Andrea
the good news, but they weren’t there. I looked around
briefly and noticed something that made me freeze – on the
ground was a trail of blood leading out the back. I opened the
back door and there they stood, my dad gushing blood from
his injured middle finger. He had damn near cut it off. Next to
him a shaken Andrea was following his orders, wielding a calking
gun and some duct tape – that’s right, duct tape. Following
his directions she had squeezed the calk into the gash across his
finger then wrapped the duct tape around it … good as new (almost).
No stitches, no rubbing alcohol, no problem – it was a
farm boy fix! I think Andrea nearly passed out. I said, “I never
heard a scream, a cuss word, or anything. Didn’t it hurt?”
Dad replied quite calmly, “I didn’t want to ruin your sale.”
That, in a nutshell, is my dad. To this day you can barely see
the scar from the cut. A surgeon couldn’t have done a better job.
There was no infection; he still has full use of the finger – no
big deal. My dad is more proud of that scar than just about any
basketball or football game he ever won.
Hell, and I had thought selling my first family membership
that day was a big deal!
In the following weeks nothing quite as dramatic as my dad
almost losing his finger took place, and we continued to sign
up new members. In those days, we didn’t have computers in
the club, so we signed members the old-fashioned way, with
membership cards and a Polaroid picture pasted inside a laminate
jacket; then we would run it through a mini laminating
machine. Two minutes later, a membership card would be produced,
literally hot off the press. Nothing like the good old days
… Thank goodness we had a lot of cards to make. Thanks to
an advertisement in Ahwatukee News, the local newspaper, and
delivering flyers door to door, people had begun to join up even
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weeks before we opened. Some of our earliest members back then are still members today. The point was, we had caught a tiger by the tail, and we were building a mountain, one member at a time.
Health clubs are interesting beasts. They’re not like clothing or grocery stores; you’re a non-retail business in a retail environment, sort of like a private golf club. Like a golf club, you’re selling memberships, and it takes time to build up a clientele. As time goes on, the number of memberships you need to thrive gets larger and larger, especially when you’re dealing with all the unexpected expenses that come with starting a new business. Still, we got off to a great start, and the 300 pre-sales memberships we had managed to sign up really helped to launch the business.
Speaking of expenses, we burned up a mountain of it buying the equipment for the club. Jeff from Fun & Fitness, another crucial part of the support network, had an ulterior motive for giving me a deal on his equipment: he wanted Mountainside Gym to serve as a kind of showroom, because that would be the first place in town that he had ever installed his best equipment.
While Jeff’s equipment looked great, we needed a lot more. I couldn’t afford anything else brand new so I ended up buying a few used, battery-operated Stairmasters, life cycles and treadmills. Let me tell you, these things weren’t just used; I think I found rubber bands and duct tape holding some parts together. My roommate Mike, who I had met through Andrea, and I built the free weight benches. I had a good construction eye, but Mike was an artist. We designed the look and he welded it all together and power-coated it white to match the Paramount equipment. We then turned our attention to the front desk, which we built from scratch including laminating the counter tops.
Everyone, friends and family, pitched in to help, including my 70-year-old grandfather, Ed Miller. Like my dad, Ed was the type of man who never sat still, and had the energy of someone
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at least 20 years younger. Ed was a glazier back in Minnesota,
and he came all the way to Arizona with my uncle to hang mirrors
throughout the club. It was like a business version of Flip
this House, Hatten-style. Last but not least, Dad and I built the
“steps” for the group fitness classes at the wood shop at McClintock
High School and painted them the color teal. Thankfully,
there were no major injuries to report on that project!
Growing up, my dad always wanted me to learn as much as I
could about everything. Whether it was how to mow the lawn,
use a saw or hammer, wire electrical outlets, fix plumbing,
sprinkler systems, and, yes, paint houses. I’m so grateful to have
all these skills as well as family members who could help me out
when I needed them – I would never have been able to afford to
pay someone to do it for me. Besides, to me, doing stuff myself
gave me as much sense of pride as starting the business itself.
One afternoon, Charlie and I were walking through the space
and discussing how we would tackle some of the unfinished
areas. Charlie suggested that we install some glass doors in the
opening between the main workout area and the group fitness
room. I wasn’t sure – glass doors sounded expensive. Charlie’s
response was, “I know but it will look better and keep the sound
out of the main workout floor.”
I knew he had a good point, so I agreed to go ahead with his
idea – felt pretty enthusiastic about it, actually. Turned out
Charlie was right: the final result looked awesome – $12,000
worth of awesome. The total cost Charlie spent to build out the
club came to $70,000 for the 4,800-sq. ft. space. This was their
huge investment for their new tenant – a kid and his gym.
Charlie even paid for the neon sign over the front door, which
read, simply: “Gym Aerobics.” Not very exciting, I know, but
it said what needed to be said.
The night before the gym opening, Charlie repeated what
he’d asked of me those few months back: “Tom, I want you to
give me one hundred percent effort. Lay it all on the line. Go for
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it. Don’t hold a thing back, because I think the idea is a good one for the shopping center. Just give me everything you got.”
Charlie’s statement coupled with the support from my dad made me feel like I would do anything to ensure that their faith and trust in me paid off.
In fact, at that point I didn’t even feel like a business owner. I felt like I was playing baseball again – with my dad as the coach, Charlie the team owner. I had the ball in my hands ready to pitch, just getting called up from the minors to the pros. It seemed that success would be a function of my mentality, my effort, rather than how much money or experience I had. All-star baseball catcher, Yogi Berra once said that 90 percent of baseball was mental, and the rest physical, and I could really relate to that. To succeed, my head needed to be in the game. For me, opening my own business was a sort of make-good, reparation for the bad decision I’d made by not playing on that all-star team and the mistakes I’d made in the past. Now, it was time to just go out there and play, quit worrying about everything else that could happen, and concentrate on what I could make happen.
Maybe it was mass naivety, ignoring the possible pitfalls, but it was fun. It was in the midst of these good vibes and my hopeful – maybe cock-eyed – optimism that we opened Mountainside Gym and Aerobics on Saturday, March 12th, 1991. I remember that opening day like it was yesterday. We were so busy, we could hardly breathe. I had gone to bed at 2 a.m. the night before and was back at the gym by 6 a.m. to get ready, running on fumes and adrenaline. We were signing up members all day long. I was still training the staff, even teaching people how to work the register as members were signing up. It was a little crazy but I loved every second of it!
Jeff, Mark, and Lee from Fun & Fitness, the equipment supplier, came down. They’d been so helpful to us when I needed equipment and ended up being more like big brothers than business associates. It was the perfect example of what happens
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when people put their trust in you by giving you a break at the
start. Our first investment with them – $15,000 – would end up
growing to probably well over a million dollars in business for
them over the years. Our partnership lasted until they sold Fun
& Fitness about ten years later.
After opening day, I managed to maintain a pretty calm
state of mind. I told myself not to worry about things that we
couldn’t control. I only needed to worry about how much we
could bring to the members every day.
And we brought it. I worked harder and longer and faster and
smarter than I ever thought I could. For me, sleep was going to
be something that got in the way of work. Energy and effort led
to survival.
I had gone into my enterprise with an enormous amount of
excitement, and money had had almost nothing to do with it.
As much as I thought I’d like to have been in a teaching role,
owning my own business, even though I knew it would be hard
work, was far more gratifying to me. After the difficult period
I had gone through, basically making dumb decisions one after
another, and being a naïve kid with no responsibility, I simply
wanted to grow up. But I had no idea I would grow up so fast!
I was under no illusion that I was going to personally become
the Fitness King of Arizona. All I wanted was to prove to myself,
I could take on this challenge and last longer than most new
businesses. After all, you can only dream big if you start small.
To me, success is always incremental. It’s measured not in big
dollar signs, but in minutes that turn into hours, and eventually
into days and months, which turn into years. Success becomes a
by-product of that. Longevity is built by focusing on today and
how we can improve. It’s a case of: “Fix the house first; worry
about the neighborhood after.”
Despite my determination to make my gym a success, I
couldn’t help worrying about the competition. There was an
increasing market for health clubs, and the competition was cut–
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throat. Indeed, in my experience, when one gym really makes it big, another one will often open just across the street. This is something you used to see in the fast-food world: a block would have very few stores, then a McDonald’s would open, and a month later there would be a Burger King and a Wendy’s on that block, too. It’s in-your-face capitalism. It’s not a game for courtly people. Once someone makes a mark, the competitors will launch a challenge. The competition I was facing were all national chains – real David vs. Goliath stuff.
The gyms in Arizona started practicing guerilla warfare beginning in the 1990s. Guess which gym was the guinea pig, the one that would prove how viable the health club business was in central Arizona? The one that was the most expendable, the one with no track record, the one that no one would care about if it went out of business – the one with a college dropout running the show …
But I reasoned that I had the mentality to square off against the competition. After all, I was always short growing up, and the ones I tangled with were usually bigger so maybe this was nothing new. I had nothing to lose but my own energy and we all know it’s not the size of the dog that makes the fight but rather the size of the fight in the dog! Maybe this was all naïve confidence or pure optimism, but either way, it was just who I was.
All I knew was what I wanted to do – provide a comfortable environment that did a little more than our competitors did – ourselves. Although most health club equipment is created equal, service is not. We could control that and I knew that was going to give us our edge.
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CHAPTER 6
BE SMALL BUT
STAND TALL
Times were different when I opened Mountainside back in 1991.Looking back, it seemed like a whole different world, particularly economically. In fact, one reason why I didn’t feel a crushing amount of pressure as a new business owner was that the investment didn’t seem overly steep, even taking into account all the loans. Though I wasn’t rich by any means, I had a home of my own, a truck and a dog – it all seemed like a very comfortable, very stress-free existence, especially for a 23-year-old.
At the club, we didn’t have any money to spend on expensive advertising. Most of our marketing was dependent on word-of-mouth. When people would come in to be shown around, they seemed to be drawn to the atmosphere and the friendliness of the employees. We wanted them to know that we cared about them as people, and most of all we wanted them to show up. To me it was simple: if they liked coming they’d stay, and if they liked the people working there, loyalty would follow. If both of those things happened, growth wouldn’t be far behind.
That was really how we grew, one rep and one dollar at a time. I started off with eight staff and hired a company called Fitness First to provide me with qualified aerobics instructors. I would see the money from the 300 memberships we had sold prior to opening for about ten minutes before sinking it right back into the club.
We had a nice flow going, and it was all pretty low-key. I was still painting houses Friday and Saturday afternoons, and some Sundays, so that I could round up more money for the ongoing construction. I was living in a great swirl of activity, and I didn’t ever want to stop the merry-go-round. As I like to say, sleep only gets in the way of getting something done. It still does. To
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me there’s nothing more important you can give to a growing
business than your time.
Of course, I was still trying to figure it all out. I was a novice
in business, only getting by on instinct – no Google in those days
to help. My level of excitement was a good indicator, though,
that “something” you feel in your gut. If it feels right, it is right,
and that only builds on itself. Business never ends; to me it just
evolves.
I had to spend a lot of time thinking, projecting best- and
worst-case scenarios. Even when I was painting, I would be planning
for what I would do the next time I’d walk into the gym. It
was very much like the way a baseball player has to think, either
while at-bat, on the bases, or in the field. I used to do that all
the time. If I was on first and the ball’s hit to right field, I asked
myself, am I going to be able to take the extra base or is the right
fielder’s arm too strong? If I was playing third base and the batter
smacked one into the gap, where would I go? Hold at third
or move across the diamond to be the cut-off man on a throw
from the outfield? Baseball had been a perpetual chess game in
my head, even to the point of asking: Am I ready for this pitch?
Will it be a fastball or a change-up? It was think, think, think.
That was a natural part of my mentality, in part because of
my childhood, sitting around with my dad and other coaches,
playing sports as much as I did. I think I always saw the association
between planning and success. If Dad said he was going to
do something he did it. I didn’t understand any other way (still
don’t). A lot of people might have a different stimulus, such
as growing up poor and taking that hatred of being poor into
a business obsession. Perhaps their motivation came from the
feeling of missing out. That wasn’t my motivation; not at all.
For me, business was just a different sport, with a different feel
to it, but using the same instincts. I guess some of the disappointments
that I had in my sports career, those feelings of frustration
that I had left a lot on the table, contributed to an obsession of
– 49 –
chapter 6
my own – a certainty that I wasn’t going to let that happen in my business. I wasn’t going to leave a damn thing on the table, especially effort.
Whenever I thought of an idea, I would play it out in my mind, create scenarios in which that idea would work or would fail. I would “see” it in my head; it would be real.
It’s probably fair to say that we could hardly be called a sophisticated operation. Most of the staff were kids and, of course, I was, too. Thus, things didn’t always run smoothly. Some of the members got a bit frustrated if they couldn’t get on the equipment or if there was no one free to show them how to use it. I remember this one couple, who just walked out. When I saw them in the parking lot, I ran out and asked them what the problem was. They said they didn’t have anybody to show them the equipment. I s
Пролог
Глава 1 Просто сделай это
Глава 2 Воспринимай ошибки как мотивацию
Глава 3 Мечтай по-крупному
Глава 4 Покоряй горы
Глава 5 Инвестируй свой личный трудовой вклад
Глава 6 Будь маленьким, но стой с гордо поднятой головой
Глава 7 Будь готов подавать
Глава 8 Планируй следующий ход
Глава 9 Обрети второе дыхание
Глава 10 Будь на должной высоте
Глава 11 Обними новые горизонты
Глава 12 Оставайся в игре
Глава 13 Вращай колесо
Глава 14 Вперед!
Глава 15 Будь на высоте и удерживайся на плаву
Глава 16 Справляйся с трудностями
Глава 17 Выдержи тяжелые времена
Глава 18 Восстань из пепла
ПОСВЯЩЕНИЕ
Я бы хотел посвятить эту книгу моей семье и друзьям, которые поддерживали меня в начале пути и оставались со мной на протяжении всего моего путешествия. Начну со своей семьи. Мои родители Дэйв и Пэм, сестры Энджи и Шелли Хаттен и мои настоящие друзья Майк П., Майк Дж. Криста и Андреа. Я бы никогда не рискнул, если бы каждый из вас не помог мне в какой-то мере – за это я хочу сказать огромное спасибо!
Доктору Кристоферу П. Нэку, чьи дружба и наставничество дали мне финальный толчок, в котором я нуждался, чтобы опубликовать книгу. Кэри П. за то, что научила меня выступать публично и вселила в меня уверенность, что стоит рассказать свою историю, и Грегу Беку за то, что помог разобраться в моих каракулях. Чарли и Лу, которые дали мне невероятную возможность, спасибо вам!
И, наконец, моему сыну Брэди, единственному, кто всегда был со мной на протяжении этих лет, и моей самой большой гордости и радости. Эта жизнь принадлежит тебе: люби, рискуй, проигрывай и пытайся снова. Если ты будешь каждый день вспоминать эти слова, ты, несомненно, добьешься успеха и обретешь счастье.
С любовью, твой папа
ВВЕДЕНИЕ
В 1991 году у меня было лишь две тысячи долларов и мечта открыть фитнес-клуб. Оглядываясь назад, я понимаю, что был еще совсем ребенком – студентом младшего курса Аризонского университета, не имевшим никакого опыта запуска своего бизнеса. В тот момент я еще даже не знал, что мне сулит жизнь. Да и кто может знать в двадцать два года?
Но вот прошло двадцать восемь лет, а кажется, что все случившееся за эти годы было вчера.
Я решил поделиться своей историей, не только чтобы осмыслить собственный путь в качестве предпринимателя, но чтобы показать на личном примере, что у всех нас есть врожденная способность добиваться своего вопреки любым жизненным обстоятельствам.
Надеюсь, эта книга вдохновит вас на то, чтобы найти в себе силу, о которой вы даже не подозревали, и, как и я, поверить в себя и продолжать мечтать!
ПРОЛОГ
«Этого не может быть, – подумал я. – Никто в это не поверит. Я не хочу в это верить, черт возьми».
Еще четверо злых мужчин присоединились к нам в тюремной камере, бранясь и выкрикивая отборные ругательства тюремному надзирателю, сохранявшему каменное выражение лица. Теперь нас было двадцать три заключенных в крошечной комнатке без еды и воды. Прошло всего пару часов, но казалось, будто не одни сутки.
День полз, периодически прерываясь на бесконечную борьбу между сокамерниками и надзирателями, находившимися за пределами нашей камеры. Я никогда не думал, что смогу сидеть на протяжении десяти часов на одном месте без еды и душа, но, видимо, если нет выбора, мы все приспосабливаемся при необходимости.
Я подпрыгнул, когда дверь с грохотом открылась. Всем двадцати трем из нас было приказано выйти в коридор, где нам на руки надели наручники, а на ноги – цепи. Затем нас загрузили в автобус и привезли в печально известный «Тент-Сити». «Тент-Сити» – это тюрьма на открытом воздухе для людей, совершивших незначительные преступления. Сокамерникам здесь приходится спать в палатках из зеленого сукна, внутри которых температура могла достигать ста тридцати градусов по Фаренгейту. Учитывая, что на дворе июнь, у меня не было никакого желания провести следующие три ночи, изнывая от знаменитой изнурительной жары Аризоны. И все же меня можно было считать счастливчиком. Этот приговор не был пожизненным, и мое преступление считалось незначительным. Но управление транспортным средством в состоянии алкогольного опьянения не казалось мне незначительным. Наверно, уже в миллионный раз я спрашивал себя, о чем я, черт возьми, думал, когда садился в автомобиль после того, как выпил. Никогда раньше я не совершал ничего настолько безответственного – я подверг опасности себя и других.
Волны сожаления, боли и ужасного стыда накатывали на меня. Как мог я пасть так низко? Через несколько дней меня выпустят на свободу, но страх того, что меня ждет, был еще хуже. Как я смогу посмотреть в глаза своей жене, когда наш брак уже и так почти разваливался? Как смогу очистить свою репутацию добросовестного предпринимателя после этого? Что еще хуже: как мне дальше продолжать жить после того, как я стал свидетелем одного из тяжелейших преступлений в штате Аризона?
Я был сломлен; мои разум и решительность, служившие мне так верно последние двадцать лет, были парализованы. Этот день был нелегким, и я этого заслуживал, но то, что произошло в течение нескольких недель, предшествовавших этому, было намного хуже. Я сделал глубокий вдох, положил голову на жесткую койку и вернулся мыслями туда, где все это начиналось.
ГЛАВА 1
ПРОСТО СДЕЛАЙ ЭТО
В 1968 году, когда мне было шесть месяцев, мои родители совершили путешествие длиной в две тысячи миль из Миннесоты в Аризону с тремя детьми. Две мои старшие сестры Энджи и Шелли провели путешествие на заднем сидении ржавого легкового универсала, а я извивался между ними в детской кроватке. По нынешним меркам здесь фактически четыре правонарушения и одно тяжкое преступление, но в те далекие времена в этом не было ничего страшного. На тот период моим родителям Дэйву и Пэм Хаттен было по двадцать пять лет, и они были готовы начать новую жизнь. Папе удалось получить работу в новой школе, открывающейся той осенью, где он собирался преподавать историю и быть тренером по футболу и баскетболу. Мама тоже устроилась на административную работу в среднюю школу. За три дня с момента прибытия в Месу, штат Аризона, папа подписал контракт со школой, а мама нашла дом. Аризона вскоре станет нашим домом и лучшим решением, когда-либо принятым моими родителями. Решительность моих родителей в достижении своих целей стала характерной чертой семьи Хаттен – когда мы принимали решение что-либо сделать, мы делали это.
Мама с папой оказали наибольшее влияние на мою жизнь, привив мне все мои ценности еще в раннем возрасте. В мире не было более трудолюбивого, способного, напористого и сдержанного мужчины, чем Дэйв Хаттен. Один из одиннадцати детей, он вырос на ферме и с раннего детства проявлял большой талант к спорту. Ростом шесть футов, темноволосый, худощавого телосложения, он был прирожденным спортсменом до мозга костей. Он играл в футбол, бейсбол и баскетбол в старших классах школы, прежде чем в конечном счете сделал выбор в пользу бейсбола в качестве игрока низшей лиги в возрасте девятнадцати лет. Его страсть к игре была бесконечной, и тренировать он любил не меньше, чем играть.
Что касается моей мамы, Пэм Хаттен, ей тоже не были в новинку жизненные трудности. Она была старшим ребенком из четырех и, в отличие от семьи моего отца, все они были по пять футов ростом и весили меньше ста фунтов. После того как она переболела полиомиелитом в возрасте пяти лет, ей пришлось заново учиться ходить. Моим родителям было всего шестнадцать, когда папа решил пересесть за моей мамой в классе – довольно рискованный шаг для застенчивого мальчика-фермера. Оказалось, ее темные волосы и пылкий ирландский темперамент привлекли внимание моего отца. Они поженились, когда им было по двадцать два года, на следующий день после того, как папа окончил колледж, и спустя пятьдесят пять лет они все еще вместе.
Мои сестры Энджи и Шелли тоже были довольно близки, тем более что разница между ними составляла лишь шестнадцать месяцев. Казалось, они всегда были вместе, а я чаще всего был назойливым младшим братом, постоянно путавшимся под ногами. Они явно унаследовали от отца любовь к спорту – обе достигли вершин в софтболе и волейболе, но первой любовью Энджи стала верховая езда. Нам невероятно повезло владеть лошадьми, когда мы росли, но любовь Энджи к лошадям никогда не покидала ее, и сейчас у нее даже есть собственное «мини-ранчо». Энджи в итоге стала школьным учителем, а Шелли в течение некоторого времени была профпатологом, прежде чем сменила род деятельности и стала ипотечным брокером. Они и сейчас очень близки, и каждая воспитывает сына и дочь.
Мои родители воспитали в своих детях определенные навыки и склонность к самостоятельности, ни во что не вмешиваясь и всячески поддерживая нас. Их пример снова и снова учил нас бороться за большее. Например, папа мог бы довольствоваться работой простого учителя истории в старших классах. К тому же эта работа идеально подходила ему, потому что он жил историей, которую преподавал, и понимал уроки алчности, которые приводили к таким кризисам, как Великая депрессия. Его нельзя назвать человеком, чересчур увлекающимся политикой; в нем больше черт проповедника, вдохновляющего оратора – человека, который обращается к человеческой душе и бесконечным возможностям, заложенным в каждом из нас. Но ему недостаточно было преподавать. Ему хотелось вдохновлять других разными способами. Поэтому он взвалил на себя еще и работу в качестве тренера по баскетболу и футболу в старших классах средней школы. Это было его величайшей страстью – тренировать и мотивировать.
На всем протяжении моего детства мои родители учили нас пытаться делать все наилучшим образом, потому что если этого не сделаешь, то всегда будешь сожалеть. Потерпеть поражение в чем-то, что ты по-настоящему любишь, лучше, чем никогда не узнать, мог бы ты это сделать или нет. Бросать что-то – не лучший выход, если уже взялся. Они говорили не только о спорте – ему всегда сопутствовали уроки жизни. Никогда не забуду одно субботнее утро, когда я сидел в кухне, по-настоящему злой на родителей за то, что они меня наказали. Мне тогда было десять лет. Им позвонил директор школы (мистер Кэмп, который оказался одним из моих любимых взрослых в детстве) и рассказал, что меня отправили в его кабинет из-за драки с другим ребенком. Я пытался оправдать себя перед мамой (говоря, что другой ребенок сам начал), а она села рядом и слушала, потом обняла меня и сказала: «Знаешь, не существует книги, которая учит, как воспитывать детей. Все, что твой отец и я можем сделать, – это постараться сделать все, от нас зависящее, и я искренне считаю, что мы делаем это правильно. Но все равно ты будешь наказан». Самое честное, что я когда-либо слышал. Они никогда не боялись возлагать на меня ответственность за мои поступки, но в этом они были справедливы.
Вспоминаю, что я всегда был напористым, я был человеком, который никогда не боялся высказывать свое мнение, и, может быть, именно поэтому пробил себе дорогу. Иногда это было моим благословением, а иногда проклятием, в зависимости от учителей. Я часто вступал в драки и создавал учителям проблемы. Я был сложным ребенком. Да, я даже сбегал без разрешения родителей из дома, прогуливал школу. Я перепробовал абсолютно все. Мне всегда казалось, что родители видели моих сестер ангелами, а меня, ну... не совсем. Затрудняюсь объяснить, почему я был таким, но мне нравилось весело проводить время, и я не любил власть. Тем не менее, я неплохо учился и получал хорошие отметки, не занимаясь. У меня были хорошие друзья, но сам я обладал тяжелым характером. Не знаю, почему, но иногда власть, использовавшаяся не по назначению, меня раздражала. Меня раздражало агрессивное поведение, глупые и посредственные люди. Но все это отступало на задний план, когда я занимался любимым спортом.
ГЛАВА 2
ВОСПРИНИМАЙ ОШИБКИ КАК МОТИВАЦИЮ
Не знаю, была ли хоть одна суббота, когда я не просил отпустить меня на папины баскетбольные тренировки. Пятничные ночи во время футбольного сезона становились настоящим событием. Он был тренером по футболу школьной спортивной команды и напористым организатором. Для меня это был рай, и я всегда был рядом. Я всегда был рядом, когда к нам домой приходили другие тренеры, и они сидели в гостиной, обсуждая игры и игроков. Для меня было большой честью быть частью этого, даже если я никогда не открывал рот. Я даже помню, как моделировал баскетбольные игры с отцом на листочках 5x7 дюймов, а потом сиял от гордости, наблюдая, как ребята осуществляли эти модели во время игр.
Папа всегда заботился о том, чтобы мы были чем-то заняты. С того времени, как мне исполнилось двенадцать, каждое субботнее утро у меня было занято, если в расписании не значилась тренировка по баскетболу или бейсболу. Я начал играть в бейсбол в возрасте пяти лет, и, хотя я также играл в баскетбол, теннис и гольф, бейсбол был определенно номер один. Ничто я не любил так, как бить по бейсбольному мячу или совершать бросок, и в большинстве случаев это легко мне удавалось. В те дни мы играли только летом, поэтому трудно было ждать весь год до следующего сезона.
Когда у меня не было тренировки, меня будили в шесть утра, и знакомый голос говорил: «Поешь что-нибудь. Ты будешь работать со мной сегодня».
Папа был классическим мастером на все руки. Он был последним человеком в мире, который будет просто сидеть сложа руки и ничего не делать. Летом, когда школа не работала, в течение трех месяцев он занимался тем же, чем занимался каждую субботу учебного года, и это было не наслаждение отдыхом. Он красил стены.
Меня всегда ждала работа по покраске. Она состояла в снятии розеток и выключателей со стен; папа платил мне двадцать пять центов за каждую. Вы будете удивлены, как много в доме розеток и выключателей. Я даже зарабатывал на этом неплохие карманные деньги. Со временем я перешел к малярной кисти, затем к валику и, наконец, к святая святых малярного дела: краскораспылителю. Мне нравился малярный навык и чувство сделанного дела, которое приходило после завершения работы. Еще мне нравилось устанавливать новые контакты, создавать бизнес и продавать себя. И все же подростком я не планировал серьезно заниматься малярным ремеслом.
Еще я стриг газоны в домах, располагавшихся достаточно близко, чтобы дотолкать туда газонокосилку. Я ходил от двери к двери, спрашивая людей, не нужно ли им подстричь газон, и, возможно, именно это и привило мне охоту продавать. Если дверь открывал хозяин дома, сделку с большой долей вероятности можно было считать заключенной. Ему казалось, что он одновременно выручает соседского ребенка и освобождает выходные для того, чтобы больше времени посвятить семье, – все по выгодной цене пятнадцать долларов за газон.
Когда наступала весна, больше не нужно было заниматься малярными делами и стричь газоны по субботам. Бейсбольный сезон был самым счастливым для меня временем – временем, когда я жил по-настоящему. Я не был блестящим игроком, но чувствовал, что достаточно способен, чтобы играть в колледже или, по крайней мере, получать предложения играть в колледже. Тогда времена были другие; у меня не было такой же игровой практики, которую сейчас получают бейсболисты в старших классах школы, но, несмотря на это, я хорошо себя зарекомендовал. Я играл три года в школьной команде и получил приглашение от нескольких университетов Дивизиона I, но я отказал им всем.
Дело в том, что тогда я хотел поступить в конкретный университет, Калифорнийский государственный университет в Фуллертоне. Моя подруга Эми, в которую я был влюблен в школьные годы и которая тоже была хорошей спортсменкой, хотела учиться там на стоматолога. Я ждал стипендии от Калифорнийского государственного университета, но так и не дождался – ждал так долго, что другие предложения были просрочены. Единственным выходом было остаться в Аризоне и поступить в двухгодичный колледж. Я считал, что слишком хорош для учебы в двухгодичных колледжах, подождал благоприятного момента и затем перевелся в университет Дивизиона I. Во мне говорило мое дерзкое эго, но я был готов подкрепить свои слова делом на поле. Потом я совершил огромную ошибку. Летом после окончания школы меня взяли в выездную команду сильнейших, которая состояла из двадцати пяти лучших игроков штата. Я должен был быть вне себя от радости, когда меня пригласили в эту команду, но вместо этого я несколько обиделся: они хотели, чтобы я совершал броски. Я же хотел быть игроком третьей базы, так как это была моя основная позиция, хотя броски я также совершал в школе.
В качестве компромисса мне сказали, что позволят делать и то, и другое. Я очень переживал, что они заставят меня сделать так много бросков, что я не смогу бить столько, сколько мне хотелось. Я критически оценил свой талант, и мне показалось, что у меня больше шансов на третьей базе. Быть частью этой команды было серьезным делом. Я знал, что на каждой игре будут агенты, но им не удастся увидеть лучшего меня. Поэтому я отклонил предложение. Оглядываясь назад, я думаю, каким же идиотом был, позволив своему эго встать на пути больших возможностей. Но, естественно, это было не единственной моей ошибкой.
После этого я тренировался самостоятельно, а на следующий год я забрел в колледж «Феникс». Тренеру понравилось то, что он увидел, он дал мне два месяца испытательного срока, и в этот раз я проявил себя хорошо. Я ударил по мячу более четырехсот раз, на моем счету было несколько краж базы, я играл на коварной третьей базе и не сделал ни одного броска.
Мне казалось, что я точно стану частью команды и получу стипендию, но я ошибался. В один прекрасный день тренер отвел меня в сторону и сказал: «Том, я думаю, что ты лучше остальных игроков, но не настолько лучше, чтобы отменять стипендии, которые я уже назначил».
Я был раздавлен, но все еще решительно был настроен играть. Я решил попробовать себя в выездной команде к северу от Сан-Франциско под названием «Зеленые великаны». Мною заинтересовались университеты Сан-Франциско и Сономы, поэтому я решил попытаться. Я проехал тысячу миль, чтобы два раза выйти на биту, два паршивых выхода к бите за тринадцать часов в дороге. Я дольше заправлял машину, чем играл.
К тому времени я чувствовал себя злым и подавленным, не зная, что дальше делать и куда идти. Оказалось, моя бейсбольная мечта завершилась, едва успев начаться, и было некого винить, кроме самого себя.
Возможно, мне стоило больше тренироваться, а может, я не был по-настоящему хорошим игроком, но это уже не имело никакого значения, потому что результат от этого не менялся: моя мечта не осуществится. Я потерпел неудачу, и мысль, что я потерпел фиаско, была даже хуже, чем прекратить играть. Она преследовала меня, управляла мной и, может быть, даже внешне сказывалась на мне. Мне не хватало духа соревнований, которого я жаждал и без которого ощущал себя почти потерянным.
Мне только-только исполнилось двадцать, когда я осознал, что мои бейсбольные мечты окончены. При этом я все еще был ребенком, разочарованным и рассерженным ребенком, которому казалось, что он потерял лицо. Безо всякой посторонней помощи я начал стремиться к саморазрушению; глупость, по-видимому, всегда была наготове. В течение следующего года или около того я начал терять над собой контроль. Мне не помогло даже то, что моя школьная возлюбленная Эми ушла к другому парню, и меня убивало, что он тоже был бейсбольным игроком. У меня было чувство, будто она заменила меня кем-то более успешным, что только усиливало ощущение безысходности и неудачи.
Моих родителей больше всего тревожило, что я съехал из дома, чтобы жить со своими приятелями, и тут я начал вытворять дикие вещи. Я часто пил, и меня, возможно, считали кем-то вроде пьяного дебошира, панка. Я был злым и беспечным. Однажды ночью мои соседи по комнате и я запланировали вечеринку, на которую позвали человек сорок, и я думал, что это поможет мне отвлечься, но вышло не совсем так.
Вечеринка была в самом разгаре, и нужно было достать еще пива, поэтому мы поехали в супермаркет на двух машинах, чтобы закупиться. На обратном пути мы наткнулись на ребят на двух машинах, парни напрашивались на неприятности – они их нашли. Обе группы обменялись репликами и через несколько минут съехали на обочину. Все вышли из машин – мой приятель Крэйг и я подошли ближе всех к тем ребятам, все орали друг на друга. В какой-то момент нашей «дискуссии» самый крупный из них куда-то побежал. Меня это привело в замешательство, и я продолжал следить за ним, а вопли все не прекращались. Затем я осознал, что он не убегал от нас, он бежал к огромному обломку дерева, лежащему на земле.
Это было как на замедленной съемке: я смотрел, как он отрывает этот кусок длиной шесть футов и шириной два дюйма от корней. Наконец вытащив его, он побежал обратно к нам. Большая часть нашей группы находилась рядом с машинами, кроме Крэйга и меня. Их было пять человек, не считая «парня с дубиной», стремительно приближавшегося к нам. Прежде чем я понял это, он подбежал к ближайшей машине и разбил заднее стекло на миллионы осколков. Девушки визжали, а остальные ребята замерли. Затем он побежал навстречу Крэйгу и замахнулся этим бруском над его головой, но, к счастью, Крэйг подставил руку, чтобы защитить себя. С совершенной отчетливостью, как у любого другого звука, я услышал громкий треск. Крэйг не кричал, он пребывал в состоянии шока. Его рука была буквально сломана пополам. Он повернулся и побежал к машине. Я не двигался. Я был ближе всех к остальным пяти парням и оказался в ловушке. Помню, мне было все равно, что со мной случится. Я был опустошен, как никогда раньше. Крупный парень побежал в мою сторону, и я сказал ему бросить палку и решить вопрос как мужчина с мужчиной.
До сих пор понятия не имею, почему он бросил свое оружие, но он это сделал. Мы обменялись несколькими ударами, и я упал – я сразу понял, что он сломал мне нос. Но это был еще не конец; я поднялся и снова бросился на него. Вся моя злость и разочарование в себе и сделанном мной выборе обрушились на него. Когда усталость одолела меня, я направился к машине. К этому времени вопли и крики еще усилились, и единственное, чего мне хотелось – это сесть в машину, и чем быстрее, тем лучше.
Но когда я отвернулся, другой парень схватил кусок дерева и ударил меня им по лицу. Мне удалось добежать до машины, но, когда я садился, он замахнулся еще раз, обрушив его на мою спину. Последним, что я еще успел запомнить, был Крэйг, державшийся за свою руку, и кровь повсюду.
Когда я вернулся на вечеринку, я потерял сознание, как только вошел. Я очнулся от того, что пожарные привязывали меня к деревянной планке и вкатывали в машину скорой помощи. Один из моих друзей позвонил моим родителям и попросил их немедленно ехать в больницу. Я помню, как увидел родителей, когда меня привезли. Я никогда не забуду их лиц.
У меня был разбит нос, и мне понадобилось шестьдесят шесть швов на лице и лбу. Моя спина, скажем так, была не в очень хорошем состоянии: сломанные ребра и серьезно поврежденный ганглий. В течение какого-то времени мне предстояло лежать. Папа подошел ко мне и сказал: «Том, я знаю, что ты раздосадован и можешь иногда совершать глупые поступки, но ты не настолько глуп». Потом он опустил голову и вышел. Ну, а мама просто плакала при мысли, что могло случиться; мое состояние было критичным, но исход мог бы быть еще более плачевным.
Пока я лежал в больнице, я часто думал о том, как подвел своих родителей, но больше о том, как подвел сам себя. Я знал, что поставил крест на том, чему они меня учили, на примере, который они всегда показывали. Я был зол и беспечен. Честно говоря, мне, возможно, повезло выжить в те выходные. Положительный момент состоял в том, что я знал: дни, когда я был легкомысленным и потерянным, подошли к концу. Я изменился, я просто знал это, я чувствовал это. Это в некотором роде имело целебные свойства – лежать в больнице. Это ознаменовало главный переломный момент в моем мироощущении. Я должен был навести порядок в своей голове, я должен был справиться с этим и прекратить жалеть себя.
Мне нравится говорить, что я упал вверх. Это происшествие станет одним из мотивов моей жизни – будет казаться, что я всегда выбирал более сложный путь к цели, но добивался ее, несмотря ни на что. Нет сомнений, что после того случая я стал лучше понимать себя и знал, что значит на самом деле хотеть чего-либо. Я понял, что усилия невозможно измерить, а глупость можно, и на что человек способен, когда стремления и усилия сталкиваются друг с другом: стремление становится флюидом, непрерывно меняющимся источником энергии, которая никогда не сдается перед ежедневными посягательствами. Это ужасное событие в моей жизни заставило меня задуматься, кто я есть, и чем больше я принимал это и толкал себя, тем больше я брал от жизни. Поэтому, когда я наконец снова встал на ноги, я перегружал себя так, что раньше это показалось бы мне невозможным.
Я поступил в колледж города Меса и получал сплошь отличные отметки. Я был собран и по-настоящему счастлив. Да, возможно, я отдалился от бейсбольной мечты, но не от любви к соревнованиям. Пришло время окунуться в реальный мир.
В колледже у меня появилось множество разных интересов. Микроэкономика казалась мне увлекательной, и я по-настоящему наслаждался архитектурой, в которой, как я считал, я достиг наибольших высот. Мне нравилась мысль о создании архитектурных проектов, и я чувствовал, что у меня есть способности к моделированию и умение уловить суть, нужное, чтобы это построить. Но, в общем-то, именно преподавание и тренерство меня по-настоящему увлекли. Всю свою жизнь я видел, как этим занимается отец, и знал, что буду получать от этого удовольствие. Кто знает, может быть, в семье может появиться второй «тренер Хаттен».
На втором курсе я впервые стал немного работать тренером. Мой бывший тренер в школе «Корона дель Сол», который тогда был главным тренером в новой школе, попросил меня потренировать летнюю бейсбольную команду новичков. Я согласился и получал настоящее удовольствие от работы с большим количеством детей. Этот шаг был естественным для меня, поскольку связывал меня с игрой, которую я любил.
К счастью, мои оценки были достаточно хорошими, чтобы дать мне возможность перевестись в Государственный университет штата Аризона на третий курс. Я все еще стремился стать учителем, но судьба вмешалась. Слава Богу, что нас учили основам экономики. Теории экономики и бизнеса, казалось, не представляли для меня трудностей. Мне нравился бизнес, и, хотя в этот период моей жизни у меня не возникало мыслей о ведении бизнеса, думаю, малярное дело дало мне больше опыта, чем я полагал.
Вместе с тем, у меня возникало непреодолимое желание справляться со всем самостоятельно. Я провел предыдущие два года, снимая жилье с приятелями, а сейчас я хотел что-то свое. Поэтому, когда мне был двадцать один год, я отложил деньги, накопленные благодаря малярному ремеслу, на квартиру. Квартира стала моей первой взрослой покупкой, и это было здорово. Она стоила не очень дорого, что-то около двадцати двух тысяч долларов. Кроме того, это было довольно компактное помещение: два уровня, две спальни, два санузла, стиральная и сушильная машины. Квартира была такой маленькой, что я мог пропылесосить верхний и нижний этажи от одной розетки! Но она была моей, и я любил ее. Нет, ну в самом деле, сколько детей в моем возрасте становятся обладателями квартиры? Это заставляло меня чувствовать, что я был впереди планеты всей, и именно этого я добивался всю свою жизнь.
ГЛАВА 3
МЕЧТАЙ ПО-КРУПНОМУ
У вас когда-нибудь была мечта, которая кажется настолько реальной, что вы готовы поклясться, что она осуществится? Когда вы не то чтобы наблюдали за происходящим, а скорее жили в мечте? У меня такая мечта появилась летом 1990 года после первого семестра третьего курса в Аризонском университете. Она оказалась настолько реальной и ясной, что определила мою жизнь в последующие двадцать пять лет.
Я мечтал о спортивном зале – очень маленьком спортивном зале. Серый ковролин на полу, черная обивка на белом спортивном оборудовании. В центре, сразу после входной двери – стойка администратора, в зале для аэробики слева идет тренировка. Детская комната справа размером с гардеробную, а за ней такие же маленькие раздевалки. Вдоль стен – пять кардиотренажеров. Силовое оборудование и свободные веса заполняли центральную зону. А сам я – я был за стойкой администратора, приветствовал входящих и испытывал гордость, что это место было моим. На следующее утро я проснулся измученным, будто весь день работал, а голова болела так, словно я только что сдавал трехчасовой тест в колледже. Возможно, мой ум все еще переваривал мечту; ни одна моя прежняя фантазия не выглядела такой живой. Тем вечером я встретился со своей девушкой Андреа, которую встретил через несколько месяцев после разрыва с Эми. Когда я рассказал ей о своей мечте, я сделал паузу, сидел какое-то время тихо, а потом сказал: «Думаю, мне стоит открыть спортивный зал».
«Действуй!» – улыбнулась она.
Мне было двадцать два года, у меня было две тысячи долларов в банке, собственная квартира, немецкая овчарка по имени Капоне и разбитая белая Тойота 4x4. Что мне было терять?
Моя цель на тот момент казалась мне простой: я открою спортивный зал и приложу все усилия, чтобы он не закрывался в течение как минимум двух лет. Из уроков микроэкономики я знал, что малый бизнес закрывается в течение первых двух лет, поэтому я прикинул, что, если смогу продержаться два года и один день, я буду на верном пути к успеху.
На следующее утро я проснулся, позавтракал и отправился на работу красить дом. Но мечта не покидала мое сознание. Она продолжала пронизывать мои мысли, пока я красил, и оставалась со мной в последующие дни. Разумеется, фитнес уже был частью моей жизни. Не только потому, что я рос спортивным ребенком, но и потому, что сам ходил в спортивный зал. Фактически моя сестра Шелли стала первой, кто познакомил меня с фитнесом, когда мне было шестнадцать: она работала по совместительству, преподавая аэробику в местном спортивно-оздоровительном клубе. Ее рассказы об этом клубе показались мне интересными, и именно тогда я начал заниматься.
Я всегда тренировал силу и выносливость в бейсболе и делал привычную гимнастику: поднятие весов, беговая дорожка, аэробика. И действительно получал от этого удовольствие. Но, конечно, у меня тогда не было планов впоследствии открыть собственный зал тогда; эта мысль никогда не приходила мне в голову. До недавних пор.
Так получилось, что я жил рядом со спортивным залом, который назывался «Шейп ап». Он был довольно большим, с кортами для ракетбола, плавательными бассейнами, дорожкой для бега и фитнес-оборудованием. Там я и тренировался, а спустя некоторое время мне довелось познакомиться с его владельцем Джоном, который часто пытался убедить меня работать на него и стать дипломированным тренером. Меня не особенно привлекала мысль о том, чтобы становиться тренером, но мне было любопытно, как вообще работал фитнес-бизнес. Из разговоров с Джоном я узнал все об устройстве фитнес-клуба, о шагах, которые нужно предпринять для его открытия, обо всех «за» и «против», о финансовой стороне – сведения, которые в будущем окажутся для меня бесценными.
После разговоров с Джоном я начал думать, что фитнес можно назвать веселым бизнесом. Я просто не считал этот бизнес «взрослым». Он казался мне кратковременным, классным, но таким, из которого никогда не вырастет ничего по-настоящему значительного. Я даже не был уверен, что фитнес долго продержится как индустрия. В те времена у него и в самом деле не было хорошей репутации; речь шла скорее о наборе мышечной массы, нежели о здоровье и поддержании формы. Когда я поделился своей идеей с несколькими своими друзьями: Кристой, Майком и Дином, – они вдохновили меня приступить к делу. Криста и Андреа были генераторами идей и сыграли важную роль, придумав логотип, который оказался кактусом и который мы в итоге назвали «Спайк» («Колючка»).
Я начал оценивать стиль жизни и мышление, сопутствовавшие фитнесу; раз уж я всерьез задумался об открытии собственного спортзала, я не хотел, чтобы он предназначался исключительно для тех, у кого только мышцы в голове, как все спортзалы того времени. Я хотел привлечь такой тип людей, которые приходили бы в мой спортивный зал, рассматривая его как средство, которое поможет им стать здоровее, а не просто как способ хорошо выглядеть в зеркале.
Я стремился создать место, которое бы удовлетворяло всеобщую потребность в здоровье и хорошем самочувствии без давления, без прихорашивания, без переговоров в офисных отделах и без контрактов! Я хотел, чтобы туда можно было прийти всей семьей. В любом случае это была неосуществимая мечта, по крайней мере, мне так казалось.
Осмотревшись, я увидел, что индустрия еще не упрочила свои позиции. Тогда, в конце 1980-х, спортивно-оздоровительные клубы только-только начинали осознавать свое место, и ощущалась нехватка спортивных залов вблизи Финикса, штат Аризона, или «Долины», как его называли местные. Мне кажется, во всем городе была лишь одна национальная сеть. Однако имеющиеся клубы посещало немало людей, и было очевидно, что есть спрос на еще один спортивный зал, чтобы делить сферу влияния.
Некоторые клубы предлагали свободные веса, тренажеры и плавательный бассейн, что мне представлялось скорее чем-то далеким. Такая бизнес-модель была более эксклюзивной и функционировала в основном за счет больших членских взносов. Другой опцией был традиционный «спортивный зал» без бассейна, для которого, как правило, характерно было наличие свободных весов и низкие членские взносы с небольшим количеством изысков, – все это отпугивало любого, у кого в голове не были только мышцы. Я же хотел настоящий фитнес-центр, с проверенными методами и эффективными тренажерами, а еще – со свободными весами, безукоризненной программой аэробики и детской комнатой. А главное, я хотел сотрудников, которые бы понимали людей. Я был убежден, что, чем лучше бы будем в человеческом плане, тем больше вероятность успеха.
В июле 1990 года, хотя я слабо представлял, чем все закончится и что мне предстоит, я официально принялся за дело. Я начал с поиска места, параллельно изучая цены и типы оборудования. Однажды я встретился со специалистом по кредитованию, который показал мне список самых неблагоприятных бизнесов для выдачи ссуды. Первые три места в этом списке занимали стриптиз-клубы, ликеро-водочные магазины и спортивно-оздоровительные клубы; он назвал их «невезучими».
Поэтому теперь, когда перспектива получить ссуду отпала, нужно было найти подходящее заведение, такое, которое было бы заметным и которое могли бы сдать в аренду юнцу без денежных средств. Именно тут подключилась мама, которая по-настоящему помогла мне. Несколько лет назад она переквалифицировалась, чтобы стать профессиональным агентом по операциям с недвижимостью, и теперь знала обстановку. Понятное дело, что из-за нехватки средств это пространство должно было быть небольшим. Однажды, катаясь в южной части Финикса, известной как Ауотоки, я заметил вывеску «Сдается», висевшую на окне незанятого помещения в торговом центре под названием «Маунтейсайд Плаза». Вот оно, единственное оставшееся место в этом совершенно новом торговом центре, и оно идеально подойдет. Не слишком большое (всего 4800 квадратных футов), но удачно расположено, рядом с «Литтл Сизес Пицца», «Сабвей» и «МакАвто».
Мне повезло иметь при себе такого эксперта, как мама; она знала эту местность и помнила, как она постепенно расширялась. Я сам довольно хорошо помнил ее еще со старших классов – часто выезжал туда на вечеринки со спиртным, – но сейчас она была заполонена торговыми центрами, школами и многочисленными уютными домиками. Всего за несколько лет Маунтейн Парк Ранч и близлежащие районы пережили феноменальный демографический бум: население выросло с нескольких тысяч до примерно ста тысяч человек. И именно здесь находился этот совершенно новый торговый центр со всего одним оставшимся вакантным помещением.
«Вы не знаете меня, – сказал я мистеру Рэйлингу, брокеру, занимавшемуся этим помещением, – но я заинтересован в аренде пространства и открытии здесь фитнес-центра».
Затем я поделился с ним деталями своей идеи спортзала, что заняло всего пять минут, потому что у меня её попросту не было. И все же, наверное, я был достаточно убедителен, потому что он все-таки показал мне помещение.
Позже я позвонил Джону, владельцу «Шейп ап», чтобы узнать его мнение, и он
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Translation education
Graduate diploma - Moscow State Linguistic University
Experience
Years of experience: 18. Registered at ProZ.com: Dec 2018.
My name is Valentina. I graduated from Moscow State Linguistic University in 2011 and have actually started my "translation career" there while helping my Culture Studies lecturer to translate some articles about multiculturalism from English to Russian.
Then I started my career with Moscow Domodedovo Airport... but not as a translator / interpreter... just as a sales manager. Still I was doing some translations like IATA Agreements, business negotiations, etc.
Next step was MFitness. It's one of the biggest suppliers of professional fitness equipment for the health clubs and different sporting venues. I had worked there as a sales manager as well until I was asked to translate the IHRSA Global Fitness Report followed by a book (the inspirational memoir from the founder of Arizona's leading fitness empire).
Currently I work as a freelance translator / interpreter and continue to cooperate with MFitness insofar as it refers to translations.
Looking forward to our mutually beneficial coopertation,