The Most Difficult Moment of My Consultancy Career
People often assume that the most difficult part of consultancy is solving business problems.
It isn't.
Most business problems are ultimately solvable. Sales can improve, retention can increase, systems can be fixed, teams can be developed and marketing can be refined. Whilst these challenges can be frustrating, they are rarely the moments that stay with you.
The hardest moments are rarely commercial.
They are human.
Over the years I have worked with hundreds of businesses and encountered all manner of challenges. I've seen businesses thrive, businesses struggle and businesses fail. I've seen owners achieve things they never thought possible and others face some incredibly difficult circumstances.
However, there is one moment that stands out above all others.
Even now, years later, I still think about it.
I won't name the company involved, and those who know the story will understand why. The purpose of telling it isn't to point fingers or reopen old wounds. The purpose is to share a lesson that fundamentally changed the way I think about business and the people within it.
At the time, I had been working with a franchise organisation. By this point I had already stopped working with them and had moved on professionally. However, one thing I have always believed is that relationships don't end simply because a contract does.
If I have worked with somebody, helped them or built a relationship with them, I generally stay in touch. That is just who I am.
One day I received a phone call from one of the franchisees.
Their business was failing.
Despite their efforts, despite the sacrifices they had made and despite trying everything they could think of, the numbers simply weren't stacking up. The business was heading towards closure and they couldn't see a way out.
As we spoke, the conversation became increasingly concerning.
Eventually they told me that the only thing they had left was their life insurance policy. They genuinely believed that their family would be financially better off without them than with them.
Even writing those words now feels uncomfortable.
For context, their business sat next to both a canal and a major train station.
You can probably understand why alarm bells immediately started ringing in my head.
This was no longer a business conversation.
This was a person in crisis.
A husband.
A parent.
A human being who had reached the point where they could no longer see a way forward.
I immediately raised my concerns with the franchise organisation. To their credit, I was assured that the situation would be addressed and that support would be provided.
I left that conversation believing action would be taken.
A couple of weeks later my phone rang again.
It was the franchisee.
Nothing had changed.
No meaningful support had been provided. No intervention had taken place. No apparent urgency had been shown.
At that point I realised this wasn't something I could simply assume somebody else would handle.
This time I formally documented my concerns and put them directly in writing to the CEO. I wanted there to be absolutely no ambiguity about the seriousness of the situation and the potential consequences of failing to act.
That finally forced movement.
But unbelievably, that wasn't the end of the story.
A few weeks later the business closed its doors.
The franchisee had run out of options.
The club was finished.
What happened next probably shocked me more than anything that came before it.
Whilst the owner was dealing with the emotional devastation of losing their business, there seemed to be more concern from the franchisor about removing signs and protecting the brand than supporting the people involved.
Staff still needed answers.
Employees still needed guidance.
Redundancies needed explaining.
People's livelihoods were being affected.
Yet support appeared remarkably absent.
I remember sitting there thinking that regardless of what had happened commercially, these were still human beings.
These were people who had invested their lives, their money, their hopes and their energy into a business.
They deserved better.
So I arranged childcare for my children, got in the car and travelled to the club.
Not because I was being paid.
Not because it was my responsibility.
Not because there was any commercial benefit whatsoever.
I went because it felt like the right thing to do.
Together with the owner, we sat down with staff, explained the situation and talked them through the redundancy process. We answered questions, provided reassurance where we could and simply tried to be there during an incredibly difficult moment.
I often reflect on that day.
Not because of the business failure.
Businesses fail. It happens.
Not because of the commercial loss.
Money can be rebuilt.
What stays with me is how close somebody came to believing they had no other option.
That is what I remember.
For me, that experience was the moment consultancy stopped being primarily about business and became much more about people.
The experience reinforced something I had always believed but perhaps had never fully appreciated. Who you choose to work with matters. Values matter. Character matters.
Expertise is important and commercial success is important, but neither tells you very much about how somebody will behave when things become difficult. It is easy to be supportive when businesses are growing, profits are increasing and everyone is winning. The true measure of a person, a leader or an organisation is how they behave when things go wrong.
One of the reasons I am incredibly selective about the businesses and individuals I work with today is because of experiences like this. I have no interest in working with people who see business purely as a commercial transaction. Of course businesses need to be profitable and commercially successful, but that should never come at the expense of basic human decency.
What struck me most throughout the entire experience was how quickly people can become numbers. Membership numbers. Revenue numbers. Profit numbers. Franchise numbers. Yet behind every one of those figures is a person. A family. A story. A set of pressures and worries that most people never see.
The business owner at the centre of this story was not a number on a spreadsheet. They were somebody who had invested their savings, their hopes and a huge part of their life into creating something meaningful. When that dream began to fall apart, what they needed most was not another business strategy, another spreadsheet or another report. They needed support. They needed reassurance. They needed somebody willing to stand beside them and help them navigate one of the most difficult periods of their life.
That experience taught me one of the most important lessons of my career. Not everything we do should be driven by money. Not every decision should be based on commercial return. Sometimes the right thing to do is simply the right thing to do.
Looking back, it remains the most difficult moment of my consultancy career, not because it involved a failing business, but because it involved a person who genuinely believed there was no way forward. The thought that somebody could reach that point whilst feeling unsupported by the people around them is something that has stayed with me ever since.
Thankfully, that story did not end in tragedy. However, it easily could have done, and that is why I continue to tell it.
In an industry that spends so much time talking about growth, profitability and success, it is worth remembering that business is ultimately about people. The numbers matter, but the people behind the numbers matter far more.
My hope is that none of us ever become so focused on success, growth or protecting a brand that we forget our responsibility to the human beings around us. Because long after the revenue figures have been forgotten and the businesses have changed hands, what people tend to remember is how they were treated when they needed help the most.
For me, that will always be the true measure of success.
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