Stephen J. Hunt - Find. Build. Sell.

Welcome to my world. The real world. Let's get started.

You've got an idea and found your passion and now you want to set up the rules of engagement for how you'll take on staff, customers and investors. So let's work out your strengths, identify your blind spots and help you develop the courage to try to step out of your comfort zone and develop strategies for mitigating the risks if you fail.

It's now time to discover the importance of finding time to focus on what matters, like being in the right room and taking time to learn and do the little things right.

Let's go!

The future depends on what you do today.

Gandhi

I've got seven pubs worth over $100 million. Saying it like that makes it sound like it was easy to achieve. It wasn't. It's taken me 30 years to learn the formula for how to find, build and scale a bricks and mortar business. In the early days, I made many mistakes. In fact, I made so many I nearly went bankrupt before I had even begun.

I started out making $100 at my backyard bar and gradually worked my way up, managing bars all over Sydney, London and Europe, working for some of the biggest and best names in the business. I was a sponge, absorbing everything around me, just waiting for that day when I could do it for myself and be my own boss.

My opportunity came, funnily enough, when I was sitting in a bar. What I'm about to tell you sounds like a plot from a Hollywood movie, but I can assure you that everything that happened was very real. I'm revealing the story here so that (hopefully) you can avoid repeating the rookie errors I made.

It was 2015. I was 42. I was living in the Hunter Valley, New South Wales with my wife and children. By sheer good luck (and some good timing), I found myself with $400 000 from the lucrative sale of a Sydney residence. I had already had a few good wins under my belt from residential property (I once owned a property for six weeks and made 18 per cent on the sale), so I was feeling on top of the world and, to put it quite bluntly, thought my shit didn't stink.

As it happens, my local bar — The Rutherford, two hours north of Sydney — was up for sale. I'd spent many a night in this bar and thought, ‘Maybe this is the business opportunity I've been looking for?' It had a good vibe, a terrific location, minimal competition and great community support. After a few more days of mulling it over (and, it must be said, a few more drinks in that bar), I thought, ‘Yep! This is a winner. I'm going to buy this bar!'

The Rutherford Hotel. The bar that set the wheels in motion.

I'd been managing pubs for 20 years as a CEO and general manager, but I'd never sought investors to assist with the funding of them. This would be an entirely different endeavour. But my time was here. This was a wonderful opportunity and I knew I could make it a success.

The next day, I contacted the hotel broker who was selling the pub.

‘How much are you asking for The Rutherford on the New England Highway?' I asked.

‘$4.2 million,' he said.

‘Sounds reasonable,' I said, privately thinking I had no hope in hell of finding that much money, but I wanted to give it a red-hot crack so I went to my accountant, told her about the deal and to my surprise and delight, she said, ‘Count me in. I'll invest $400 000 right now'. Well, that was a good start, I thought.

With the help of a few other friends, I found another $200 000, so with my $400 000 from the property sale and my accountant's $400 000 contribution, I now had $1 million dollars to kick start my venture.

I went to the bank and told them what I needed to buy this bar. The first one said ‘no', and so did the second and third. The fourth one, however, said ‘yes' to my request, so now I had a total of $3.73 million. Brilliant. It was a struggle to get that bank to have faith in me, but having run many pubs in the past, they could see I knew what I was doing.

Now I just needed to raise $1 million to complete the purchase. ‘Piece of cake', I thought.

I made a list of the top 10 people I thought would be interested (the classic three Fs: family, friends and foes). I went from one house to the next, pitching the idea to them in their kitchens and loungerooms, and guess what? All 10 of them said, ‘Yes!' They said, ‘Steve, we would love to be part of this and can't wait to get started. Just let us know when you need the $100 000, and we are in!'

‘How easy was this?' I said to myself. ‘I should have done this years ago!'

I now had the final million I needed to complete the deal. I went back to the hotel broker, signed the contract and bought the bar! Happy days. I was beyond excited. I celebrated all week with my family and mates, thrilled to be embarking on this exciting venture.

I followed up with the 10 investors to tie up the loose ends and confirm the paperwork. I sent them the information memorandum (more about information memorandums in chapter 8), which outlined the deal, the bank account details and the application forms for signing, and they all said, ‘Yeah, sure thing Steve, no problem. We're right there with you. The money's coming'.

Except the money didn't come.

I checked my account every day to see if their funds had been deposited. Nothing there. I waited another week. Still no sign. I rang them all again. For some strange reason, none of them answered their phone. I sent them an email. Still no response. I went to their home and knocked on their door. No answer. That's strange, I thought. They were so keen a week ago.

I wasn't worried. I had a few more Fs to chase up and felt confident I could come up with the funds, but those phone calls, emails and door knocks also went unanswered.

The settlement date loomed. I was still $1 million in the hole and there was no sign of any new investors coming to this party any time soon. What had seemed like an exciting adventure and simple endeavour four weeks ago had become a bit of a nightmare.

I was worried now; worried enough to start talking to lawyers to see if I could extricate myself from this mess I had created. I asked them two key questions: can I get out of this contract without penalty, and if not, how bad will it be?

Their answers were pretty clear cut. No, and very bad. Not the answers I was hoping for.

I decided to take the personal route and rely on my charm and sincerity to see if that would work. I rang the hotel broker who sold me the bar and I said, ‘Mate, you know that money that I was going to raise to buy the bar with? Well, turns out I've fallen short as a key investor has pulled out. I don't suppose we could get an extension on the settlement?

‘Ah, I don't think so,' was his response. Not the response I was looking for. He said, ‘I recommend you have a chat with the actual owner of the bar. He may be more accommodating than me'.

I jumped in the car, drove like a mad man, barged into his office and said, ‘I really want this bar, but I just need a bit more time. Can you give me an extension?'

He said, ‘I'll think about it and get back to you'.

I waited by the phone like a love-sick teenager, desperate for his call.

He didn't call.

Another day went by. No answer. Then another day. Still no call. I was now completely stressed out, on tenterhooks, waiting for an answer. My options were looking very grim. If I can't come up with the rest of the money, I forfeit the deposit, a very hefty $420 000, and will be sued for the rest of it too — an extremely hefty $4 million .