A stomach for uncertainty
That which is predictable brings a sense of comfort in tumultuous times. (Image by J Garget)
I remember the realization, years ago, that I wasn’t sure how I was going to make payroll two weeks later.
Sort of. Honestly, it’s happened so many times that it all sort of blends together now. But I do remember the feeling of the raging storm in the pit of my stomach, walking through the world with a tremendous and constant sense of distraction, unable to focus on work, my daily routine, or anything other than the fact that I was a huge failure.
I learned from the experience. I learned how to ask for help. I learned how to look at exactly what is happening in my business right now instead of letting the future be vague and hopeful. I learned how to run a leaner organization and not say yes to everyone I liked and wanted to hire.
I also learned that if my company needs cash, it doesn’t mean that the whole thing is a failure. It means I’m kind of normal. And that lesson, above all, has allowed me to deal with financial concerns rationally rather than emotionally. Instead of fretting and self-flagellating and losing sleep, I’m able to focus on problem solving. Sometimes, this includes taking steps to secure funding, which has luckily been possible. Bottom line: Somehow, I’ve always made payroll. I take it for granted at this point.
But now, even the things I thought I could count on are disappearing. Before the coronavirus pandemic, Eclectic Music’s popular summer camp was having its best year-to-date sales ever. In fact, it still is, even though our last sale was on February 29. But now, we’re not sure whether any camps are going to happen. I may have to give back all that cash — that precious, precious cash — in the form of refunds to customers (plus hundreds of dollars in fees to cover the service charges for the refunds). I’ll know for sure in less than a month.
In the meantime, some of our clients can’t pay us for the services we’re providing now, and that’s a trend that is likely to continue. And each week, thousands of dollars go out the door for payroll, providing a livelihood for some thirty people, along with thousands of dollars in operating expenses that can’t be turned off or canceled.
Seeking cash to stabilize things is proving a challenge. Whom do you ask for money in a pandemic? Everyone needs to hang onto their own. The government interventions are well-meaning but not to be relied upon at this stage.
Everything is more dire and complex, as though I’ve played my way into a much higher level of a video game. The strange thing is, I’m sleeping fine. The feeling of dread in the pit of my stomach comes and goes, but it has a lot more to do with the general state of the world than my specific situation. It’s strange that, absent a sense of personal failure, I can tolerate these cascading layers of uncertainty. I’ve worked up to them — I can see them as an interesting challenge instead of a test of my worth as a person and business owner.
I’ve gotten used to the idea of losing one or more of my businesses — I worked through that on a nine-mile walk on the morning of March 15. And here we are, a month later, and things are fine. A new definition of “fine,” but one I can bear. And whatever happens next, I can probably bear that, too.
I am a fan of a few works that cover catastrophic pandemics that destroy civilization: Station Eleven by Emily St. John Mandel, The Passage trilogy by Justin Cronin, and the granddaddy of them all, The Stand by Stephen King. (I also love Cormac McCarthy’s The Road, although in that one, it’s not a virus that causes our downfall.) Apocalyptic fiction tends to move pretty quickly through the collapse of society. Allow me a moment of gallows humor when I complain that the present situation is moving a lot slower. I thought I was going to have to scavenge for provisions in abandoned buildings and learn to use a bow and arrow; dealing with bureaucracy and yelling at a website is not the flavor of nightmare I expected (although it is a nightmare, to be clear). But if this is what it takes to survive, I guess I can handle it.
So many of us are having to accept things that would have been unacceptable at any other time in our lives. Some of us are living through circumstances that no one should ever have to experience. We are changing as a result. We’re discovering that we’re capable of more than we thought possible and have more to give than we may have known. We can find moments of joy and peace in a desperate situation. We will solve problems that seem impenetrable and uncover innovations faster than we ever could have imagined.
As we move forward, we’ll carry trauma with us, but also an increased resilience.
I don’t know what’s coming, so I don’t know how I can be ready for it. But for once, I’m not stuck mourning yesterday or feeling like I should have done things differently. I am going to do what I can today.
Special Announcement!
Today (April 16) at noon EDT, I’ll be joining Scott Perry and Seth Godin in conversation as part of Creative On Purpose’s Ruckus Maker’s Roundtable series. I hope you can be there, too!