From Prison to Peace: What It Feels Like When a Business Finally Turns the Corner
From Prison to Peace: What It Feels Like When a Business Finally Turns the Corner
I used to dread walking through the doors of the business I built. Now, I get to write bonus checks with pride—and sleep at night. Here’s how we turned a barely-surviving mess into something solid, sustainable, and worth showing up for.
From Prison to Peace: What It Feels Like When a Business Finally Turns the Corner
I once had to break up a fistfight between a manager and an employee, shove the guy out the door, change the locks, and call the cops—during lunch rush.
Another time, I discovered the quiet, polite kid I’d hired had been shooting heroin in the men’s bathroom.
And I once lent $2,000 to an employee in a tight spot, thinking it was the kind thing to do. He quit the next week, never paid a dime back.
That’s when I learned: being the boss isn’t just about being nice.
Equipment failures. Staff drama. Late orders. Cancellations.
And all of it—every mess, every decision, every expense—came to me.
Half the time, I didn’t even know what the right call was.
I just knew if I got it wrong, someone might quit, a customer might leave, or we might not make payroll.
We had a young son at home.
I used to have a steady paycheck, healthcare, and a 401(k).
Now I was hand-delivering breakfast at 4:30 a.m. and wondering if I could afford napkins.
I asked myself more than once:
Why did I leave a high-paying job for this?
There were times I dumped in personal money just to make payroll.
Not to grow.
Not to reinvest.
Just to make sure my employees got paid on Friday.
And it wasn’t a one-time thing.
For the first few years, it was regular—like feeding a monster that never stopped eating.
I wasn’t refining systems or building strategy.
I was just trying to survive the week.
I felt like I was failing my family.
I felt like a fraud.
I had no time to “work on the business.”
All my time was spent trying not to drown in it.
Then Something Shifted
It wasn’t a single moment.
No big break.
No secret formula.
It was slow.
Quiet.
Almost invisible.
But it was real.
It started with a few key decisions:
Searching for customers who needed box lunches regularly, the ones with real volume, not just one-offs.
Tracking gross profit percentage and employee hours like it was gospel.
Creating a separate sales tax account so the money was always there when it came due.
Raising prices after years of fear.
Hiring people I could trust, and actually letting them lead.
Listening when my team gave me honest feedback. Acting on it.
Eventually, the chaos calmed.
We built up a savings account.
Paid off the credit cards.
Got debt under control—$4,000/month auto-deducted, no drama.
I even started blocking time to think. To plan. To breathe.
And slowly… we built momentum.
What felt like overnight, but really took four years, I began to feel something I hadn’t in a long time:
Pride.
We Weren’t Just Surviving Anymore
We were building a flywheel, and every quarter it got stronger.
We put a bonus system in place for our top people, tied to gross profit percentage and monthly revenue. It includes quarterly goals so one soft month doesn’t tank the whole plan. The targets are clear. The rewards are real.
And when we hit them?
It feels great to write those checks.
I tell my team it's my favorite moment.
Because I know we can afford them.
And I know they were well earned.
What Success Feels Like Now
It’s not flashy.
But it’s solid.
The business runs clean.
It supports my life instead of draining it.
It feels sustainable.
And after years of feeling trapped, that quiet stability feels like wealth.
Frank Losi was loud, opinionated, and larger than life—and he believed in me before I knew how to believe in myself. This is a tribute to the man who helped me make the leap from employee to business owner, and what it means when someone sees your potential before you can.
The Mets are searching for answers, but Tyrone Taylor already is one. This is a defense of “glue guys”, quiet contributors, and why enough is more than enough when October baseball is the goal.
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