A complicated and serious thing

I moved to France in 1988. I was still in college. I had already comfortably launched and closed two small and profitable little companies on Nantucket Island, Massachusetts. I had created them to help pay tuition and the costs of going to university. They were summer companies, the kind in the United States that you start up just to make a little money to pay off day-to-day debts so that you could start September classes with a healthy set of credit cards. I caulked windows with the first company, and sold cable television advertisements with the second. I closed them both because I had other stuff to do; like going back to school, falling in love, and moving to France.


My model for creating a company was simple. You found or invented a service that people might need. You figured out the right price for that service. You went door to door to see if people would buy it, and if they did, you went to work. The whole process took between three days and three weeks. You were in business. Once the money was coming in, you had the time and means to learn all of the more complicated stuff like how to collect money from bad payers, how to open a bank account, and how to fill out company tax forms for your end of the year statement. By the age of 23, I considered creating a company to be a little less complicated than learning how to drive a car, and a little more complicated than learning how to make a good Daiquiri. Then I moved to France.


I had been in France for just over two years when a Portuguese friend of mine, who I had been teaching English, came up to me and asked me if I would like to start up a company with him. I said, “Sure! What do you want to sell?” He sat me down and told me not to say “yes” that quickly. Two hours later, after explaining in great detail his model and what he wanted me to do in the company, he asked me again. My answer was the same. He then said something prophetic. “Kurt, you’re not in America. We’re in France. Starting up a company is a serious and complicated thing here. I want you to think about it.”


I had thought then that José was just trying to make sure that I was committed to his project. I assured him that I would do everything I promised to do. And I did. I was brought up that way. Moreover, banking in a project with José was a no-brainer for me. He had all the leadership qualities that I considered necessary to make a business work. First of all, he was a no bullshit communicator who never let sleeping dogs lie. If there were a problem, he would tell you. That meant that you could fix it. Second of all, he was cautious: he never bought anything that he had not already sold. That is a risk limiting philosophy that I find fail-safe for business. Quality number three; he was a good short and long-term negotiator. He always looked for a win-win deal (for the French reading this blog, a win-win deal is an agreement where both sides of the table go away feeling like they have gained something), or he would not make it. And last of all, he knew his market and his business model. He had been working in computer parts since he was sixteen years old. Unfortunately, for both of us, and the partners he and I brought in, in order to make a business work in France those four qualities are useless.


Had we started up the same company in Portugal, the United States, the U.K. or even Belgium I know his life and mine would be different today. It might have eventually failed, because of the quickly changing computer parts market, but we would have made some money, and learned enough to move into something else as entrepreneurs. As it turned out, José, a natural entrepreneur, never started up another company after we closed his first one. Pragmatic in the end, he got a job… like most sane people in France. I, on the other hand, had not learned my lesson. I would go on to be a part of seven other start-ups, all opening their doors and bank accounts in Paris. They have all had different destinies, some “succeeded” while some “failed”. Though they were all tremendous learning experiences, I have never had the impression that I had built something worthy of all the energy, time, money and determination I had put into it.


I have lived in France for twenty years, and I have finally figured it out. Just don’t do it! Don’t! It is both complicated and serious, and if you are not a complicated and serious person, it is not a good idea.


This nation and this culture has something against those crazy few that want to build from scratch a successful profit-earning enterprise. I secretly believe that they regret having locked up the guillotine, and because of that they have collectively, albeit subconsciously, created a series of obstacles so insurmountable that if you were ever able to get through them all, you would have to become a proletarian idealist with a strong appreciation for chic and luxury. You would have for all good purposes become French. Becoming French is nothing that any sane entrepreneur would ever want to do. France’s greatest and most brilliant entrepreneurs all went to the United States to get their projects off the ground… and became American. Nevertheless, only you can answer this question for yourself. If after reading this blog and its 50 reasons for not creating a company in France, you still want to do it, then I wish you luck. You are someone special. I wish you double luck if you already were French when you started reading this blog. You are going to need it even more.