As a teenager I learned what a dollar was worth by making pizzas and scrubbing spaghetti sauce from pitted aluminum pots at the family business. I was well aware of the fact that, unlike most of my friends at school, my dad didn’t commute to a corner office on the 29th floor somewhere Uptown but instead, every morning, he flipped on the lights at the restaurant and turned on the ovens, the stoves, and the grill. Floors were swept and mopped. Boxes of food were carted in through the back door from big white trucks while lettuce was chopped. Coffee was made.

Suffice it to say I know a lot about what it’s like to be a part of a small, independently owned—but admittedly, established—business. I have absolutely no experience starting a business. I have never been my own boss.

So what is it like to make the transition from working for someone else to working for oneself, to abandon a ladder of bosses so tall that the top is up in the clouds, entirely out of view, and strike out on your own? What’s it like to leave the comfort of that safe corporate gig with the cubicle, the id badge, and the company skybox at the Panthers game, and put it all on the line to do your own thing? Or, how does one avoid the traditional career path entirely and answer to "me and me only" from the get-go?

Banner Elk native Dave Collier can tell you. A designer in the Investor Relations Department at Wachovia for 3 years, Collier spent the majority of that time (8 months out of the year, he says) working on the company’s annual report. At times, he and his team leader worked directly with Ken Thompson on the project.

Now the 35-year-old husband and father makes a living selling skateboards and custom screen-printed t-shirt orders. As we sit and talk on an a supersized leather sofa in his 7200-square-foot, noticeably un-air conditioned warehouse space, I glance around and see screen-printing equipment, an indoor skate park, and a fridge that's apparently filled with Pabst Blue Ribbon beer. Collier wears an easy smile and projects a calmness that almost fools me into thinking that getting his business to this point must have been a walk in the park. Between sips of beer, he explains that Ink Floyd, the catchy name of his screen printing company, was initially formed to serve Saturday Skateboards, a separate business he started several years ago. “I was always a snowboarder and a skateboarder since the mid 80s,” he said, "but since there's no snow in Charlotte, the logical choice was to start a skateboard company."

He learned the (in my opinion complicated and involved) process of screen-printing from a college buddy and found some used equipment for sale up in Banner Elk. Initially the equipment was operated in a 15’ by 15 ‘ shed in a friend’s back yard, with half of it housed in the shed and the rest in a spare bedroom in the house. For over a year he worked on mostly small, 1- and 2-color print jobs late at night, after coming home from a full day at the bank.

After months of $200—$500 jobs for churches and small businesses, a big break came with an order for 1000 1-color front, 5-color back T-shirts from a locally-based Internet heavyweight. Despite underbidding on this first large order, Ink Floyd worked the overtime needed to deliver on time and to a happy client.

“That was a key turning point for us,” said Collier, “and I was able to move to a 700-square-foot space over off Camden Road and leave Wachovia. At that time I realized that I needed to bring on help in order to grow the business. It’s tough when you get to that point and have to delegate to other people, and not be in total control of something you’ve run by yourself since day one.”

Right now, with Gary out selling large orders and Mark and Elijah running the screen-printing equipment, Collier has some time to thoughtfully answer my last few questions. “To someone thinking about starting their own business, I’d say, have a good plan, and stick to it. Imagine how hard it will be and multiply that times 10. And you really have to commit 100%. You’re all in or not at all. He paused to finish the Pabst, and his eyes brightened. "It's like dropping in on that ramp back there. If you're going to do it, do it full on. Or things could get ugly.”

“I guess most of all,” he continued, “Do something you’re passionate about. You know, something you really love”

“And one more thing", he said, "don’t write off corporate America just because you wanted out. Chances are you’ve built a skill set that will in many ways help you run your own business. And more than likely—hopefully, even—you’ll be doing business with corporate clients. It’s nice to know how they work and how to communicate with them. Don’t take that for granted.”

Co-owner of brand new Nolia Restaurant Pamela Marcotte has years of experience in the restaurant business, but only a little more than a month under her belt here in Charlotte. With partners, she opened and ran 3 successful restaurants in Brooklyn, NY. They ranged from upper-tier $30-and-up entrée type places to a hipster joint called Dumont Burger (not unlike the one over at Commonwealth and Plaza). Interestingly, she says, while all three were successful and continue to operate, Dumont Burger is still the most profitable.

The 38-year-old Durham native has the kind of natural beauty that requires no makeup, and she is disarmingly frank while thoughtfully explaining her concept. She tackled my (and probably many other locals’) first question methodically, and in stride.

“What will we do to succeed in this location where several others haven’t?” she repeated. “Look, we know we have a stigma to overcome with this location. What I’ve realized about Charlotte, though, is that people are very loyal to their neighborhoods and tend to do business within them if possible. We’ve got a modern Southern menu (the braised short ribs and salmon with blood orange reduction are selling the best so far) that is perfect for both an afternoon drink on the patio in flip-flops or a special occasion. If we can reach out to the residents of Elizabeth and Plaza Midwood and deliver an experience that is both simple and unique, it’ll work. Of course we'd love to have folks from all over Charlotte," she added quickly.

Marcotte feels that going above and beyond to make the customer happy is what made her successful in New York. “Well, for example, whenever possible, we try to accommodate a special request; a customer wants a wine by the glass that we only sell by the bottle—we open the bottle up. That happy customer is worth her weight in gold.” That philosophy, she said, is part of what will make her concept at Nolia successful.

She also stresses the fact that she is not a chef/owner like many people in the business, and believes that is a good thing. Not only is she not a formally trained chef, but she doesn’t even cook at home. “It lets you see the forest through the trees a lot of times. Pride doesn’t get in the way if the menu isn’t working and needs to be modified to make the business successful.”

As far as advice to others looking to start a business? After thinking for a moment, she stated emphatically, “Life is short, so don’t be afraid to take a chance. But you’ve got to be really passionate about what you are doing to succeed in this business.”

And as she was pulled away from our conversation by more pressing matters, she shared one more quick bit of advice to would-be restaurant owners. "I’ve talked with more than a few people who dream of opening a restaurant when they retire. Bad idea, and I don’t think I need to spell this one out for you.” And with that, she was swept back into the rush of her business and as I watched her move deftly from one task to the next, I could see that she had youth on her side. Considering that 80% of restaurants will close their doors within the first 5 years, it's plain to see that that mature nest egg is probably safer left over at Fidelity, and not wagered in this most cutthroat of industries.

An hour later, when I walk into the well, um, once again also noticeably un-air conditioned workshop over at Reaching Quiet, it’s apparent that owner Eric Boyd is putting out a fire. Not literally extinguishing a fire, but obviously handling a big time problem. Being within earshot of his end of an intense phone conversation, I almost consider coming back later to ask him questions. The interior of the shop is interesting enough to distract me from Boyd’s pacing, though, and it gives me time to size up the place for a few minutes before we talk. It reminds me a little of 8th grade shop class, only this place is obviously not swept up at the end of every period, and these guys aren’t making routered tie racks and step stools. About a half dozen work stations support custom counter tops and sinks in various shapes, colors, and stages of completion.

Just when my curiosity about all this stuff really begins to crescendo, Boyd has wrapped up his conversation and we shake hands. He seems much younger than 33, and is doing an impressive job of moving past whatever it was he was just dealing with, wearing a tired but genuine smile.

“I studied architecture at UNCC,” Boyd explained, “but my business partner Mills and I are the kind of guys who work with our hands, who enjoy making things, understanding how things work.” The two earned money during school building cabinets and installing kitchens for sub-contractors. Boyd noticed time after time that the architects who were hired to design the jobs didn’t seem to care how the actual work was completed, how things were fabricated and installed, or how the finished product came to be. “They weren't interested in anything beyond the blueprint. Even though I'm a trained architect, my goal is to know every aspect of this business. Eventually we’ll be a full-service architecture firm and we’ll know every layer of our company from top to bottom—or bottom to top, I guess.” He is now in noticeably better spirits.

Today Reaching Quiet makes custom items out of concrete, including sinks, kitchen counters, desks, and even bars. They made the bar at the hip new ‘’Super Nikko” sushi restaurant on South Boulevard.
In the company’s early years, though, the two built and sold custom furniture. They sometimes designed the concepts themselves, and sometimes worked on special orders, and then fabricated out of just about anything imaginable. “That model didn’t prove to be as fruitful as we had hoped, though, and we shifted gears and began making custom items from concrete.”

In a few months Reaching Quiet will move into a larger (air conditioned?) space that will house both a design showroom and offices. They’ve already won their industry’s only national award of distinction and they build orders for the city’s premier kitchen and bath designers. Amazingly, it’s all happened without ever borrowing a dime. No SBA loans, equity lines, or help from mom and dad. “One job paid for the next." said Boyd. "Our day jobs also kept steady revenue coming in, and we were able to assemble all of our tools and equipment piece by piece.”

“What I would say to someone who wants to work for himself,” Boyd said, steadfastly and without hesitation, “is that you’ve got to believe in what you’re doing. Your clients need to see your passion for it if they’re going to be excited about—and ultimately pay money for—what you have to offer.”

At this point I feel comfortable enough to ask, tactfully, about the heated phone call I had walked in on. “We were off by exactly a foot on a counter we built for a client from NYC who has a summer home down here in the mountains.” A very rare—but very costly—mistake, he assures me. “To grow the business we’ve had to hire some new folks. There’s a learning curve, and every so often, a mistake can happen.”

“Can’t you just cut it to fit? You know, polish the end and make it work?” I suggest quickly, feeling a little like I might have saved the day. He patiently smiles and explains, “If it were a piece of stone we could re-cut it in one day. It takes two weeks to make a countertop like this, and this order will have to be entirely remade from scratch.”

Now as I sit in my very-much air-conditioned corner office (we here at Uptown jokingly call it the 'Uptown Magazine World Headquarters'), and look over my notes, I notice many similarities between the 3 markedly different businesses and people that I've just met. All 3 said words like ‘passion,’ ‘drive,’ and ‘commitment’ over and over. I was floored by the fact that 2 of them worked day jobs for over a year and came home to long nights spent on what they really wanted to be doing. I guess that kind of work ethic is what it takes to be your own boss.

You know, it's a little ironic that the night before these converations I had watched (for some strange reason) an episode of The Office. I rarely stray from my steady evening diet of the talking heads shows on MSNBC, or episodes of Family Guy.

Steve Carell drew a laugh or two, and the other nutty characters made such work seem easy and even kind of fun. Meetings and staplers, and water-cooler romances, all conducted under florescent lighting with the thermostat set, undoubtedly, at 72 degrees.

Yet, having talked to Dave Collier, Pam Marcotte, and Eric Boyd, it's clear that there are those for whom that life simply won't do. They have way too much to offer the rest of us when they can do what they love and get paid for it. The thing is, I bet a lot of us could follow our own dream of selling an idea or product or service; something you, yourself thought up and made. If you can imagine it, and want it bad enough, it can happen.

Next time you’re having a drink over at Nikko, take a close look at the bar. It didn’t come from some far away factory, or get shipped in from Japan. Nope, Eric and Mills made it in a dusty workshop over off Central Avenue right here in Charlotte.

~ Matt Kokenes