Every good story has a beginning, and that beginning is usually preceded by an ending. And while we can’t predict what the next ending may be, we can make the journey there a fulfilling one. Former journalist Hendri Pelser has contributed to the Biznews platform on a few occasions. He’s a writer-turned-carpenter. And in the piece below, Pelser opens up the doors to his journey. He encapsulates the trials and tribulations faced, likening them to the journey of any aspiring entrepreneur. It’s a great piece of writing, and while Pelser may have left the world of journalism, he hasn’t lost the gift of the pen. Well worth the read. – Stuart Lowman
By Hendri Pelser*
This is a story about a credenza.
Well, it’s not just really about a credenza. It’s more a story about fear, happiness, opportunity, new beginnings and entrepreneurship.
And sanding. Lots of sanding. But don’t worry. I won’t tell you about all the sanding.
Going on two years ago I quit my post as a senior editor in the media industry.
The job had become untenable and my love for journalism had been consumed by the politics of the media industry.
So I walked away. With no other prospects on the horizon.
While we had some savings, we had no concrete plans. However, that was secondary, as I was a physical and emotional wreck.
At 35 I was overweight, sickly, depressed, anxious…and deeply unhappy with my professional life.
So I sequestered myself into my little workshop and started making things.
It didn’t really matter what I was making, as long as I was in the workshop from sunrise till well after sunset.
Physical labour and repetitive motion created a space for the mind to unpack during the day and a tiredness to rest at night.
It was deeply therapeutic.
The days turned into weeks and weeks into months, and eventually I half-heartedly had to start looking for a job in the industry where I had earned my stripes.
But, all I wanted to do was to make furniture. I did not know how to turn this into an income.
After three months or so, I convinced my wife to let me spend a little of what we had left on some wood.
I had come across the work of award-winning cabinetmaker Jory Brigham and an image of a credenza fuelled by his talent filled my mind. I could not rest.
At the lumberyard, it took me well over two hours to pick five measly pieces of wood. Doubt wrestled: Should I spend the money? What if I can’t sell the piece? How will I even begin to make it? I don’t really know that much about woodwork after all…Stick to what you are good at. Go get a job…
A while later a grey-haired customer struck up a conversation. We exchanged pleasantries and unexpectedly, telephone numbers. “Don’t spend your own money. Get a customer to pay for it,” he cautioned. “I don’t have any customers,” I mumbled back.
I bought the wood and started the credenza. I didn’t get very far.
The man I had met ran a high-end, bespoke furniture manufacturing business. It is called Cherryhill Woodcraft and his name is David Meyerowitz.
I went to work for David, starting out on the factory floor assisting the cabinetmakers.
The learning curve was steep.
After a while the business landed its biggest contract ever and I moved from factory floor to factory office in order to assist in the logistics, planning and management.
Here, the learning curve was even steeper as I had to learn the business of furniture making in as short a time as possible.
David however, is a patient mentor and created a space where I could make my own mistakes. Within reason, off course.
Weeks became months and all of a sudden a year-and-a-half had passed. At Cherryhill, we had made desks, huge dining room tables, fitted private libraries and offices and boardrooms, made beautiful bookshelves and private lodge furniture.
The business had seen many trials and tribulations, cash flow crunches, staff headaches. The lot.
All this time, the credenza sat unfinished in the corner of my shop. Never forgotten. Pestering.
The more I learnt about woodworking, and the business of making custom furniture, the more I realised the depth of knowledge still needed, and so, the more I avoided the credenza. Could I ever materialise the image in my mind?
No, off course not, I eventually realised.
Furniture, the making of something by hand, is a skill. A craft honed over decades, improving only through mistakes.
Building a successful business is the same – you simply need to pay those school fees.
So I decided to finish the credenza. Whatever the outcome may be.
But, it is also through this journey over the last couple of weeks that I could really test the skills I had acquired over the last two years. That I could stand back and say, while I have learned so much, I can now also quantify areas of weakness and incompetence by judging the finished product.
Is the credenza perfect? By no means, no.
Is it what I had in mind? Not a chance.
Do I like it? You betcha. For now, that is. Until, the next project.
Is this not akin to the journey of the aspiring entrepreneur? An idea, a vision, forms in the mind. There are no guidebooks or step-by-step instructions. Just a yearning and a passion.
You take the plunge and figure it out as you muddle along. After a while you look back and say gosh, look what we have achieved, look at what still needs to be done, look at all the silly mistakes made along the way.
How can I do this better tomorrow?
- Hendri Pelser is a former business journalist and editor, turned woodworker. He practises his craft as an apprentice cabinetmaker at Cherryhill Woodcraft, an exclusive bespoke furniture manufacturer. He shares some of the business’ adventures with the BizNews community. @HendriPelser is on Twitter.
