By September, I was knee-deep in the reality of turning an empty unit into a training centre. That meant sleepless nights on several fronts — finance, workload, and, once again, those cursed emails.
I thought I'd been smart by sending the estate agent a detailed outline of what I planned to do with the unit before signing the lease. A classroom here, a workshop there, and all the bits needed to make it compliant and fit for purpose. With that box ticked, I pressed ahead, confident everyone was on the same page.
Except they weren't.
When the landlord eventually saw my plans — via email, not face to face — his reply made my stomach drop: “I wish you'd mentioned all this before signing the lease.”
That was the moment I discovered the email had never actually been sent. Another casualty of the Gmail vs Outlook war that had already caused me grief. My heart absolutely sank. I'd already committed, and now it felt like I'd started off on the wrong foot.
And then there was the finance. I'd applied for a business loan with HSBC, having been crystal clear from the start that my accountant had advised me not to take on anything that required a personal guarantee. The process was lengthy — I had to pull together forecasts, plans, and more paperwork than I'd care to admit. Still, I convinced myself it was worthwhile. The bank said the loan was progressing, and crucially, that no personal guarantee would be needed.
That was enough for me to start planning how I'd use the money — fit-out works, equipment, marketing. I let myself breathe a little.
Then the paperwork landed. And there it was in black and white: I would need to give a personal guarantee after all. My heart sank for the second time that month. Back to square one.
Add to that the financial pressure of funding the fit-out myself, and my days quickly stretched into nights. I kept “office hours” for consultancy work, then spent weekends and evenings grafting in the unit. It was exhausting. I'd chosen this path, but it didn't make the pressure any easier to carry.
As if the finance stress wasn't enough, the fit-out brought its own headaches. Materials were more expensive than I'd remembered, and just as we'd got the studwork in for the training room, I spotted not one but two roof leaks, dripping right over the spot where the suspended ceiling is supposed to go. A delay to getting the work finished, eating into my short rent-free period, and yet another source of stress.
September was a month defined by sleepless nights — the kind where you lie awake doing mental spreadsheets at 2 a.m. and wondering if you've bitten off more than you can chew.
But it wasn't all bad news in September. I hosted my very first meeting at the new centre with a supportive contact, and that conversation could open the door to some exciting partnership work in the future. Just as importantly, family and friends have stepped up in a big way, giving their time, energy, and hard graft to help with the physical work. From shifting materials to picking up tools, their support has been invaluable, and when this business is a success, they'll know they were a big part of making it happen.