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“At first,” he continues, “I assumed you’d simply made a mistake in stating your annual income target was $50,000. Look …” He turns my business plan toward me and points to where he’s crossed out the word ‘year’ and replaced it with ‘month.’ “You see? I read your plan and in my mind, I could easily visualize you earning $50,000 a month. But the rest of your budget made your true intentions clear.”
He stops speaking. For several long seconds, he and I hold eye contact. I do not fidget, but I do move. I lean forward and place my forearms on his desk. It’s a bold move, but one I feel I need to make to gain his confidence and not have this be a one-and-done meeting.
“Would you like to know what I believe your biggest barrier to success is, Ms. Beach?”
I lean forward even more, but just my neck and head, keeping my shoulders back, chest open. “I would,” I say.
He sits back in his chair, smiles as if he, and he alone, knows a big secret. “You, Virginia Beach, are afraid of success.”
Whoosh.
My jaw drops enough for even a baby detective to notice my panic. My arms jump from the desk and cross in front of my body. I hug myself, then berate myself for the tell.
I will not rock. I will not rock. I will not …
Damn it, I’m rocking. Subtle, but I feel it, and if Mr. Liu is as astute an observer as I figure he is, he can see it.
“Bingo!” His laugh is filled with so much joy. If anyone were to walk into this office to see and hear this exact moment, they’d likely assume Mr. Liu had just won a jackpot or solved the “Did Carole Baskin feed her husband to tigers?” case.
He pours water from a carafe into a glass and places it in front of me. Without words, I accept and drink.
“Here’s the offer,” he continues. “If you would like to grow your business to one that grosses, or even nets, $50K a year, let’s shake hands, and you can leave today knowing that I have full confidence you’ll get there within twenty-four months without ever having to speak to me again. But”—he levels a stare at me—“if you’re willing to do what it takes to build a million-dollar business, I would be delighted to take you under my wing and mentor you.”
I gulp more water since my mouth has gone dry in the time it’s taken him to say that last sentence. Is this a joke?
“A million dollars? A year?”
He nods. His smile is mirthful.
“To water plants?”
Mr. Liu holds up his index finger. “Ah, you see, once we address your fear of success, you’ll realize how naïve a question that is. But the short answer is no. Yes, watering plants will be at the core of your business, but it will be the ancillary products and activities that will make you a millionaire.”
I nod, even though I’m not totally sure what he means.
“You’re feeling unsettled. Off-balance. And that’s fine. I expected this. All I need to know right now is, are you willing to let go of whatever is holding you back, or are you happy playing small? There’s no wrong answer—except a lie.”
“A million dollars a year,” I repeat to make it feel more real. “Minus expenses and taxes. What kind of annual net do you think the business you’ve imagined would give me?”
He claps his hands, then gives me a double thumbs-up. “Excellent. That question tells me you’re ready. You are going to love this process. I am going to push your boundaries and buttons the way they’ve never been pushed and then … I can’t wait to share this with Mr. Power. I can see why he gave you that card. He’s brilliant. Just brilliant.” Mr. Liu nods, and all I can do is mimic.
Nod and smile. Nod and smile. Throw up later.
Ileave my first coaching meeting with Mr. Liu with a list of action items to complete before our next meeting in two weeks. The hardest is that I have to replace myself with all my existing clients since I cannot run a million-dollar business and spend thirty hours a week going from house to house for fifteen-minute watering appointments.
When I said I wasn’t willing to give up all my time with plants for the sake of becoming stupidly rich, he told me not to worry. He agreed that I will need to maintain my connection to the core of the business, but that there are more efficient ways to do so. When I said I don’t want to buy a car, assuming he meant reducing travel time between jobs, he asked me if I am willing to trust him and be open to ideas that my current way of being doesn’t allow me to imagine. I said yes …
So that’s what I’m doing in the next two weeks. Taking a business that has brought me great joy but not enough income to truly support myself, and giving it all away so I can start something that will give me everything I’ve never dreamed of.
When I push open the apartment door, Georgia screams and runs at me like a lovesick teenager who’s just scored concert tickets to Rihanna. She pulls me into a tight hug, bouncing against my frozen form.
“OK … too much coffee today …”
“You gave my name to a woman at that Power palace.”
“Oh, right. Yeah, she was—”
“She is the executive assistant to one of the brothers at the company. And …” Georgia jumps from foot to foot.
