Thousands of people benefited from something I created, which addicted me to the process.
I made a difference!
I started to compile testimonials from clients.
“ Because of you, my business grew ten fold.”
“ Your Web site led me to my biggest corporate client.”
“ Your company has been instrumental in growing my business.”
This feedback was wealth currency. I wasn't awash in riches quite yet, but I felt rich.
My “Faked” Shortcut to Wealth
In 2000, my telephone rang with a different type of inquiry. Technology startups called; they wanted to know if I would sell my business. In that year, the dot-com frenzy was in full force. Not a day went by without a tall tale about some dot-com millionaire who struck it rich by selling a tech property. Remember the fameless millionaires? This subset of the rich grew at a staggering rate, and the wave swelled my way.
So, did I want to sell my company? Hell yes! I had three offers to sell.
Offer 1: $250,000.
Offer 2: $550,000.
Offer 3: $1,200,000.
I accepted offer three and became a millionaire … instantly … well, almost.
It didn't last.
At the time, I thought $1.2 million dollars was a lot of money. It wasn't.
Taxes. Worthless stock options. I made mistakes and invested poorly. I bought a Corvette, hoping it would make me look rich. I thought I was rich, but I really wasn't. By the time it was over, I had less than $300,000 left.
The tech bubble arrived with unforgiving consequences, at least for buyers of my company. Against my recommendations, they made poor decisions, decisions that were good for short term revenue but horrific for long-term growth. They flushed money down the toilet as if there were an endless supply. Do we really need custom-branded water bottles? And logo T-shirts? Are these revenue generating actions?
Decisions were made slowly and by committee. Customers were ignored. Incredulously, most of the company's executive management had Harvard MBAs, proof that the business logic doesn't come with expensive initials after your name. Despite having $12 million in venture capital to buoy the storm, my Web site slowly started to die.
A few months later, near the cliff of bankruptcy, it was voted that my Web site would be dissolved, even though it was still profitable. Tech buyers dried up and stocks were in the tank. Everyone was on life support, including them.
Unwilling to watch my creation fade into oblivion, I offered to repurchase my Web site at a fire sale price-a mere $250,000, financed by its own profit. The offer was accepted and I regained control of the same company I had just sold a year earlier. Essentially, I'd operate the business, take the profit and pay down the carry-back loan. What was left over I reinvested into the business. With my company back in my control, a new motivation surfaced-to not only survive the dot-com crash, but to thrive.
The Birth of the Money Tree
The next 18 months I was revitalized to take my service to the next level. In hindsight, I wanted to prove to myself that I wasn't just some lucky chap who got caught up in the dot-com boom. I continued to improve my Web site. I integrated new technologies and listened to customers. My new passion was automation and process.
As I streamlined my processes and systems, a slow and steady transformation took place. I worked less and less. Suddenly, I worked an hour a day instead of ten. Yet, the money rolled in. I'd go to Vegas on a gambling spree; the money rolled in. I'd be sick for four days; the money rolled in. I'd day trade for a month; the money rolled in. I'd take a month off; the money rolled in.
Then I realized what I achieved. This was the Fastlane. I built myself a real, living, fruit-bearing money tree. It was a flourishing money tree that made money 24 hours a day, 7 days a week, and it didn't require my life for the trade. It required a few hours a month of water and sunshine, which I happily provided. Outside of routine attention, this money