What’s your best time?

Thanks to MyCarBudget, last week’s discipline debate got me thinking about a kindred topic:

When do you do your best work?

Night Owl

Winston Churchill was notorious for grinding his staff to a paste.

They rocked up for work at the usual time.

He started late, napped in the arvo and went most of the night.

If you weren’t there for dictation at 3 am, sparks flew.

He won the war, but his health and relationships suffered.

Morning Person

I love mornings; the earlier the better.

My mind is clear as dew and I revel in pre-peak-hour calm.

Once I’m in The Zone, I can work 6 am to noon without drawing breath.

If a phone call shatters my reverie, however, it can take 15 minutes to regain concentration. (No wonder I prefer email!)

After lunch, I’m good for another hour or two.

But then I fall in a heap.

On some days, 2.30 pm sees me almost brain dead; I literally can’t string a sentence.

Coffee, water, bananas and diet cola make little difference.

I’m fine after a break. But when I had a full-time office job, this wasn’t possible.

Filled with a phalanx of inflexible deadlines, afternoons were agony.

Out of Time

I’ve read that we mess with our body clocks and bio rhythms at our peril.

I’m lucky I don’t have to travel through time zones for work.

Some of the jet-lag zombies I see at the airport are enough to put you off your Frappuccino.

If you’re one of these poor undead, how do you cope?

I’ve also been interested in seasonal affective disorder. Cracking the SADs is definitely no laughing matter.

Time Signal

I’d love to know whether you’re a morning, afternoon or night person.

Have you always been this way?

Is it your nature or your choice?

Running a business can make extraordinary demands on our time.

What happens when you have to work at the wrong time of the day, week, month or year?

Have you any tips for us fellow time travellers?

Consider this your wake-up call!

Paul Hassing, Founder & Senior Writer, The Feisty Empire

                                           How do you curb your desires?

My tiler returned for an encore performance last week.

In chatting, he asked how I discipline myself to work from home.

My answer came easily enough, but it got me thinking more deeply:

Do we business owners approach self discipline in different ways?

TV Dinner

I don’t really like television, apart from docos and the odd movie. These usually run at night, when the day’s work is done.

I’ve heard, however, that the pull of Oprah (and even more hideous daytime offerings) is irresistible for many.

How about you?

Working Wife

Fonnie works 50 hours a week.

We have common goals, so it’d be pretty bloody ordinary if I lay on our couch eating chocolates all day while she busts a gut.

Debt Bidden

I’m so keen to kill our mortgage that I’m driven to rise as soon as I wake – even if it’s 4 am.

I get a kick out of nailing jobs and a bigger kick when the money finally rolls in.

Faffing round the house just isn’t as satisfying.

Safety Valve

Occasionally I feel unable to create.

At these times I default to less demanding admin tasks until the clouds part.

(If deadlines don’t permit this, I’m in hell.)

If my admin is done, I walk the dogs or take photos.

Gradually, the benefits of these activities override the worry and guilt of being away from my desk.

When I return, I’m in much better shape to pick up where I left off.

Freedom of Choice

Ironically, the liberty to do anything I want governs what I actually do.

I imagine it’s like having a balcony or swimming pool: you may never use it, but you know you can.

So, rather than blow six months’ time and revenue on a radio-controlled B-29, I’m content to snap my environs for half an hour every now and then.

Secret Life of You

How do you avoid the temptations of working from home?

Does your discipline derive from:

• Fear.
• Love.
• Habit.
• Need.
• Pride.
• Willpower.
• Something else.

Or are you a secret couch-hogging, choccy-scoffing, telly-watching sham?

If the latter, I don’t expect you to confess.

But it would be rather fun.

Mush!

Paul Hassing, Founder & Senior Writer, The Feisty Empire

Today we welcome Judy Oldmeadow to Small Business Owner. Like many small business owners, Judy’s experienced the underbelly of self-employment: back-breaking hours, loneliness and isolation. She’s come out the other side as an inspiring example of persistence; today she shares her very poignant journey with us.   

Dark days

Last day of school holidays. It’s nearly dark as I push a heavy barrow round the horse yards. Forcing my overworked 53-year-old body to pick up the last of the manure.

Vaguely, I wonder if I could analyse people by their shit, as I can horses.

Calico dumped her piles by the gate as she looked for someone to take her back to her paddock.

Holly, the fiery Arab, spread hers fast and loose along the fence as she impatiently paced, neighing for attention.

Banjo, the slow-thinking beginner’s horse, deposited his huge pile under the tree where he patiently waited for something to happen.

Barrow empty at last. A final check for brushes and tack in their correct places.

I limp inside. Happy I’m alone at last, but sad I’ve only enough energy to shower and collapse into bed without eating.

For ten years I’ve been running children’s riding camps on my 22 acre property.

I know I can’t sustain this life of one camp after another, with ten kids in my one bathroom, no partner and only a teenage assistant and daily cook to help me.

At the end of each camp, no matter how tired I am, I always give each parent an encouraging report on their child’s particular skills.

Today I advised a mother to tell her nagging, blaming, attention-seeking daughter to forget horses and take up acting.

Time to stop.

A place in the sun

I lie under a walnut tree on a stunning 240 acre property, surrounded by contented Morgan mares and their foals while my imported stallion stands watch.

I smile as I watch lead mare Tanjil and her filly Yve. Tanjil’s mothering skills never cease to amaze me. Within three hours of Eve’s birth, Tanjil pushed her over to my LandCruiser to let her investigate it. Next, she nudged Yve to me and kept her there with her body, letting me touch her all over.

For three weeks Tanjil did this with all new human visitors, occasionally pushing Yve away if a person wasn’t to her liking. Now Yve is allowed to make her own choices.  She’s curious, confident, friendly and respectful. Horses could teach people a lot about parenting.

I hear my husband Miles slashing the paddock ready for the fire season. I allow myself a moment of pride for our achievements.

Our Morgan herd comprises a stallion, five purebred mares, two partbred mares and three other breed mares in foal. This year we have five foals at foot, seven yearlings and one two-year-old running in the hill paddock with the nanna mares. All but one sold.

We provide agistment for the horses we breed until they’re two. This gives them the best environment for sound hoof and bone growth in a herd that develops confident personalities. We’re succeeding beyond all expectations.

Our cottage lets owners get to know their new horse in a safe environment. This month, our first two-year-olds have gone to new homes in three states – well mannered, confident, barefoot and sound.

I work with my horses to teach communication, assertiveness and self awareness while having fun.

I’m living my dream.

How did I do it?

All my life I’ve not made changes until things got bad enough. I saw myself as tough –  nothing could make me cry.

Then my closest friend fought a long, heartbreaking struggle with cancer. One of her coping mechanisms was to plan her own funeral.

She designed an amazing mural for her coffin, chose the music and asked mourners to walk to the cemetery. She asked me to ride beside the hearse leading her mare Tinto – saddled, with her boots backwards in the stirrups, military style.

I agreed, thinking it’d be a lovely way to say the inevitable goodbye. At the cemetery I tied my horse to a tree and led Tinto to the grave. In the silence after the service, Tinto called and my horse answered.

A huge wail rose in me. I cried for weeks. In the supermarket. At the doctor. With visitors. Alone. Years of suppressed tears.

Worried for my sanity, a friend suggested internet dating. I didn’t even own a PC! She set me up on a hand-me-down.

After three months, I was over my depression and happy to live alone. Then I got an email from Miles Oldmeadow. My deceased friend had worked with his mum and we’d met several times.

We had much in common and many mutual friends. Two years later we married. I sold my farm and began building my new teaching facility at Samaria.

I was used to aching knees; they’d both been dislocated and lacked medial cartilage. But in our second year of marriage, my pain was everywhere. I tried to work through it, but sometimes I spent days in bed – exhausted by an hour’s work.

After a merry-go-round of tests, specialists and medication, a rheumatologist finally diagnosed fibromyalgia.

My research into managing this condition included meditation and reading about post traumatic stress. I noticed I was almost pain free when relating to horses.

Early one morning, with pain preventing sleep, I decided I’d breed safe, friendly, comfortable-to ride Morgan horses for families.

I was thrilled when Miles embraced my idea. In November 2006 we began our journey by purchasing two purebred mares.

I no longer have fibromyalgia symptoms. My depression has lifted and I’m breeding sensational horses while coaching animals and humans into harmonious relationships.

Life got bad enough. I did something about it.

Judy Oldmeadow        , Owner, Samaria Creek Morgan Farm

Today we welcome guest blogger Kate Bezar to Small Business Owner. Kate is the founder, publisher, editor and dreamer of Dumbo feather, a self-described ‘mook’. What’s that, you ask? You’ll  have to read Kate’s profile to find out…

I was once asked in an interview what the best and worst things about being a small business owner were. Interestingly enough, my answer was the same for both questions; “Being my own boss.” 

While it’s wonderful to be the master of your own destiny, captain of your own frigate, answerable to no middle-aged-Ricky-Gervais-in-a-double-breasted-suit and of course, able to leave work at 9:01am if one so desires, for me, it also brings with it a whole heap of angst.

I think most people have a number of voices in their head that they have to manage; parents, children, partners, George (or is he just my special friend?). You know, those voices that tell you that you should be doing something a different way, or not doing something at all. But when you’re your own boss, there’s another voice to add to the cacophony.

The conversation in my head generally goes something like this; “Right Kate, we really need to get this done by 5pm today”, “Ah, but Kate, we both know that it really doesn’t have to be done until Monday 9am.”

This is inevitably followed by, “I can’t believe you missed the 5pm deadline! … You’re hopeless … You’re fired!”

Let’s face it, setting yourself false deadlines is just never going to work, I mean, who are you trying to fool? 

Sometimes I dearly miss having someone, other than myself, to tell me something’s not quite up to scratch or that the deadline really is 5pm today.

Likewise, wouldn’t it be lovely to have someone else to pat you on the back and congratulate you on a job well done or shout you a drink at 5pm when you’ve made that deadline. It’s just not quite the same when you do it to yourself and it’s pretty tricky to get your arm all the way back there. 

Anyway, it’s Tuesday 9:01am, I’ve just finished writing this, so I think I might head off and meet a friend for coffee … I know … I’m lucky, my boss really is pretty cool! 

Kate Bezar, Founder, Dumbo feather