Napoleon Complex?

A few of my friends from way back then managed to turn their craftsman skills into small businesses. Small businesses are defined by having less than 500 employees. The guys I know have less than 20 each. Micro-business would the phrase here.

A couple of them have wanted to Conquer the World as well. I guess images of being Bill Gates or the CEO of Exxon danced in their heads as they expanded bit by bit. Any road block was met with determined will, guts and grit. In some instances, I had to give them credit for getting as far as they did. I wouldn't call them “rich” but managing a million $ enterprise ain't chicken feed either.

God knows I didn't do the same. My idea of getting to Easy Street would involve using your head only and not your hands, unless that was to click a mouse and make money that way. Efficiency! That plus my abhorrence to handing every minute of every day to a task like that. I like my down time. The two I know live their jobs 24/7.

If you ever been through Seekonk/Rehoboth you've seen those mini-mansions or full blown ones that pepper the wooded landscape there. One of my friends jumped the gun, fully believing in his success one day, and built an ostentatious mini-mansion to show off. Everything was great until the housing collapse happened and then suddenly no one wanted his services anymore. Whoops! He had to scramble then to keep the business going and make the note on his castle. He did manage to survive but his brash ego was knocked down a few pegs. Today he's happy enough to keep the books in the black and Empire building can wait.

The other one has yet to have life chew him up yet so he's brave as hell still. He's managed to win a legal battle over adopting an unused factory block and hoping to turn it into a plumbing empire on the level of Gem plumbing based out of Providence. He'll get to wear a larger Crown if he succeeds.

So, like anywhere else, I hear the latest gossip small businessmen like to engage in, the relative success or failure of their competitors and friends.

In order to knock down entire buildings to construct a new one, the City Council gave him 5 months to accomplish that and to come up with workable blueprints for the next building.

The gossiper tells me:

“They're fucking with him! Five months as we're heading into winter? How much can you get done if there's a foot of snow everywhere? How well can they work in a nasty cold snap that lasts a week and half? And what if the ground is frozen to four feet down? Trenchers are great but you also have to send guys into the hole with jack hammers too, the machine ain't that all powerful! Not only that, he has to pull permits left and right and those guys down at City Hall are notorious for blowing you off if they don't like you!”

I ask what if he can't do it in the five months allotted?

“I don't know. I get the feeling they're setting him up for failure by having to re-start the entire legal process all over again if he can't make it. He made some enemies down at City Hall during the legal fight and they haven't forgotten. Or...he'll have to reapply for the variance for another five months and that's an added cost to everything.”

So, being nosey as shit, I have to ask how much money is being bandied about on this new venture.

“He's floating a loan for $600,000 and plowed an additional $400,000 of his own into it. He's up to his neck now... and if this doesn't work...” he says trailing off with that knowing look on his face.

I make the comment that this seems way too much to deal with. You have to rebuild a site that's rotting , fight the government the whole way and then you have to get the business up and going. Where's the pay off?

“He wants to be King. And money, weather, enemies in the business world and government, ain't going to stop him.” I'm told.

King making is great for a younger man. However, this guy is no longer a young man. We're all at or nearing 50 and most of us are just as happy to collect a check and sit a lot of the time. If I were into empire building I'd make damn sure the variables were all lined up and tied off, then or now. But I was never into being Emperor. Being Emperor is a hell of a lot of work and there's always maintenance that never, ever stops. It's a precarious position.

You and I have known jar-headed type guys who just have to be Top Dog all the time. Ok, great, if that's what floats your boat. But I've always noticed those laurels dry up in time. It never lasts. And, as you become older, it gets harder and harder to win and maintain that. I've seen these guys forever repeat their competition again and again and sometimes they win, other times they lose. But, the final prize has always evaporated in time. I sit and think, “What good is that if you can't keep that prize? The effort becomes pointless.”

There was a great scene in George C Scott's “Patton” where he speaks of victory.

“For over a thousand years, Roman conquerors returning from the wars enjoyed the honor of a triumph — a tumultuous parade. In the procession came trumpeters and musicians and strange animals from the conquered territories, together with carts laden with treasure and captured armaments. The conqueror rode in a triumphal chariot, the dazed prisoners walking in chains before him. Sometimes his children, robed in white, stood with him in the chariot, or rode the trace horses.

And...a slave stood behind the conqueror, holding a Golden crown, and whispering in his ear a warning:

'All glory is fleeting.'”

 

 

This guy had it all then lost it all. Today, he's a pile of dried bones.