Everything I Know About Being an Entrepreneur I Learned From My Dad: A Father's Day Tribute

He didn't have an MBA. In fact, my dad had to quit high school in the 11^th grade to take a job to help support his brothers and sisters.

He worked at the Grays Harbor Chair Factory in Aberdeen, Washington, a small, blue-collar lumber town in the Pacific Northwest.

Then he got as job as a cement truck driver at Graystone of Grays Harbor. He later moved up to "batchman" and then foreman of the plant.

Most nights, he would shuffle in through the kitchen door, big black lunch pail in hand. All I would see were his bright blue eyes peering out through a light gray coating of cement dust.

Looking back, I suppose all he wanted to do was take off his caked, high-top work boots and settle into the olive green recliner with his Daily World.

But right away I would start pestering him with my "12 Degrees of Why" questions. Patient he was, and tolerant of curious 7-year-olds. 

Tell me. What does your father do?

Once I read a comment on a blog. The business owner said that when he interviews someone for a job in his company, he always asks, "What did your father do?" Said it was a good indicator of how "entrepreneurial" the candidate was.

Aside from that being a sexist question (what if your mom had been the CEO of Xerox or PepsiCo, both run by women, by the way), we all have certain traits that help us run our businesses, but not all of us come from the same mold.

Just because my dad drove a cement truck, doesn't mean I didn't learn valuable lessons from him.

A few of of my dad's lessons in entrepreneurship

Find a way around obstacles by thinking in different ways.

When the muddy banks of the Wishkah River flooded the road, he invented what his fellow workers fondly labeled the "Spaur Board."

It was a long piece of plywood fashioned over the car's front fender to create a makeshift bulldozer. He was a little late to work that day, but he made it. No one else did.

See the humor in everyday mishaps.

When my mom bought a new gadget, say, a can opener, and it didn't work as advertised, my dad would grumble, "I bet that was invented by some guy's brother-in-law. 

His explanation was that some man was pressured to give his wife's sorry, clueless brother a job. The guy had no skills, but, hey, he was the boss's wife's brother, so he was hired.

So he comes into the board room one day with a goofy idea for a can opener. But everyone is afraid to shoot his idea down because he's the boss's brother-in-law. The "some guy's brother-in-law" story was pulled out whenever something we bought didn't work right.

When times are tough, call on your team to roll up their sleeves and get to work.

Added expenses for new school clothes or a broken hot water heater? Find more income streams.

Like bark peeling. My sisters and I, under the watchful eye of our parents, would go beyond the back yard to the old growth forest where the cascara trees grew. At the age of 5, I learned to shimmy up the tree.

Perched on a strong branch, I would slit the bark straight down in a vertical line with my handmade knife. The hard part was pushing the fingers around the tree, underneath the slick, inside edges of the smooth gray bark, past the sharp notches that stung my hand.

If I did it right, I could pull the bark away in one long piece, kind of like those people who can take the skin from an apple in one long peel.

I would stuff the pungent bark into my scratchy gunny sack and sell it later at Mr. Reid's store: 5 cents a pound for wet bark, ten for dry. Mr. Reid sold the dried bark to Eli Lily Company because its main ingredient, cascara sagrada, was used to make Fletcher's Castori and other retchingly bitter-tasting laxatives.

I learned that there was always a way to make a few bucks if I needed it. My dad taught me that.

Thanks, dad

You taught me way, way more than that. Lessons that I use every day of my life as I juggle the challenges of running my own business.

How to be inventive with limited resources. How to practice patience. How to understand other points of view. How not to take myself too seriously.

I can't thank you enough for those lessons.

And just the other day, when I gave up on my leaky fountain pen, I looked at my ink-stained hands and back at the pen, then said said out loud, "I bet some guy's brother-in-law made this."

Comments

[Tshombe]

The most amazing Dad Tribute I've read in a long, long time.

Sounds like your dad was amazing, too.

And, why should I wonder? You're a chip off the old block.

Thank you for the blessing of this story today, Judy.

[Judy Dunn]

Thanks, Tshombe. Here's to amazing dads everywhere!

[Rene' Fabre]

Your Dad sounds like a hoot!... and a great guy. Thanks for sharing a little of his story.

Rene'

[Judy Dunn]

Thanks for reading and commenting, René. Hope your Father's Day was special!