Stephen J. Hunt - Find. Build. Sell.

Finally, with two days to go before settlement, the bar owner rang me and said, ‘With regards to your request to extend the time frame, I have one word for you. No'.

The next day, I got a call from his lawyers. They said, ‘If you don't come up with the money, we will sue you for non-completion', which is a fancy way of saying, ‘If you don't come up with the cash, we'll sue your arse off'.

I felt sick. My chest tightened, my stomach clenched, my heart raced. This was definitely not the response I was hoping for. My negative self-talk went into overdrive. How did I get myself into this mess? What was I thinking? If only … were the words that danced around my head.

If only I'd got those investment guarantees in writing.

If only I had more time before settlement.

I cursed those who had let me down, but mostly, I cursed myself for counting my chickens before they had hatched; for making assumptions, and being impetuous. These qualities had mostly served me well in the past, but not this time. Now they could cost me everything I had worked for, and more. But it was my own fault, and I had no-one to blame but myself. I was in the shit and I had to find a way out. If I couldn't, I'd lose all my assets: my house, my super, my savings. I had five children to support so it was no joke. I was about to lose everything.

I now had less than 24 hours to come up with a million dollars and I had zero prospects of achieving that. So I turned to the only figure I could think of: St Francis, the patron saint for lost causes; the saint all lapsed Catholics turn to when they've lost all hope. I said, ‘St Francis, get me out of this pickle and I promise I will go to mass every Sunday. I'll bring the kids too; heck, I'll even take them to Confession!'

St Francis promptly told me to get off my arse and contact someone who actually had the power to help me, so I went back to the original 10 who had expressed interest and said, ‘Look, I just need to know if you're in or out. I don't mind which way you go (I did), but I just need an answer'. ‘We're out,' they said. Well, at least I knew where I stood.

I said, ‘Okay, you may not want to invest, but do you have any friends who may want to invest?' And fortunately, they did. They were probably just trying to fob me off to get me to stop bugging them, but to my great relief, they gave me 10 names to follow up.

I rang them all. Seven said, ‘Thanks, but no'. Three said, ‘Maybe, let's talk'. Bingo! All was not lost. I had three shots to raise a million dollars.

I was on a mission.

I did not waste time sleeping that night (I couldn't sleep anyway), so at 3 am I got up and went for a jog in the dark. As I jogged along that cold, lonely street, I reflected on how I had got myself into this stressful situation, and I beat myself up for being so naïve. But I realised that the only person who could turn this around was me, and giving up was not in my nature. Even when I played football and we were losing 50 to 1, I always believed we could turn it around. This was no different. With each step, I reiterated the beliefs that had sustained me in darker times than this: There is always a way. You can do this. Don't give up .

Later that morning, I drove the 200 kilometres from my home in the Hunter Valley to Sydney for my final round of investor meetings. I had three appointments booked and each of them had to say ‘yes' if I was to avoid being bankrupted.

My first meeting was with two parents from my son's school, a successful power couple whom I liked and respected. I took them through the information memorandum, answered all their questions and tried to keep the panic from rising in my voice. At the end of my presentation, he sat back, put his arms behind his head, looked me in the eye and said, ‘I'm in'. ‘How much for?' I asked. ‘$200 000,' he said.

I could have kissed him (I didn't). I was elated. Finally, someone could see the vision I had and was willing to back me! As I packed up my bag to move onto my next investor meeting, he said, ‘Who else is investing in this?' I told him who I had lined up next, and out of nowhere he said, ‘Make it $250 000'.

Once I was out of eyesight, I wiped the sweat from my brow, metaphorically high-fived myself and drove like crazy to my next meeting. I was so nervous I went to the wrong address, but fortunately I had left enough time and got there on time. This meeting was with two super-experienced business owners and investors. They'd just sold another business a few weeks earlier and were cashed up, but they were no pushovers. I went through the pitch, showed them the projections and watched them like a hawk to gauge their reactions. They were unmoved, saying, ‘We'll think about it and let you know in a few days'.

I didn't have a few days but couldn't tell them that for fear they'd smell my desperation and pull out, and besides, no-one likes to think they're the last cab off the rank.

I was devastated. I was so close. The clock was ticking. It was 2 pm. I had until 5 pm before settlement was due.

One of the guys walked me back to my car in the parking lot. I felt sick at how close I had come to getting these investors over the line. I had to do something to see if I could fast track their decision. I wound down the car window and said, ‘Mate, I don't mean to be rude, but just out of interest, if you were to invest, how much would it be for?'

He looked at me and said, ‘We'd invest $300 000. Each'. And then, with a few words that would change my life, he said, ‘It seems like you need an answer sooner rather than later, so consider it a done deal'.

I could have kissed him too (I didn't). But again, I was ecstatic! I now had $850 000 in the kitty and one meeting to go to raise the last $150 000. It was 4 pm. One hour to go before settlement. Time was against me. I practically ran to the other meeting, which was, fortunately, just around the corner.

There were three men at this meeting: a potential investor and two fund managers.

I hadn't met this investor before, but from the moment we sat down, we hit it off. Turns out, we grew up in the same neighbourhood, he knew my family and we had common friends. Before I had even finished my pitch, he said, ‘Steve, I've heard enough. I'm in for $50 000'. My heart sank. I was grateful for him opting in, but it still left me $100 000 short.

I stood up, smiled and shook their hands, trying to act enthusiastic. But I knew I was cactus because I hadn't raised the full amount. My time was up. I had to concede defeat. Just as I was about to walk out the door, the two fund managers stopped me and said, ‘Do you have room for more?' Trying to look cool, calm and collected, I said, ‘Possibly. How much are you looking to invest?' They said, ‘$50 000. Each'.

My brain made the quick calculation. You bloody beauty! I had done it! I had raised $1 million in eight hours and in the process saved my house, my savings and the future of my family.

I went back to the hotel broker, handed over the cheque at 4.50 pm and took proud possession of my bar. Other than the birth of my children, this was one of the proudest moments of my life. I had come very close to losing everything. I was on my way. I had prevailed. Life was never going to be the same again.

I learned many a lesson from this experience, most of them about what not to do. For a start, don't take people at their word, don't assume anything before you have it in writing and most importantly, don't buy a bar before you have the money in the bank.

Everything happens at the pub. It's where the locals go to celebrate, commiserate, congratulate and communicate, and I love being at the centre of what's happening. I'm the guy at the side, gently nudging the proceedings along by tweaking the dials to create the right mood and atmosphere — the music, food, lights, colours, scents, décor, drinks — these are the levers that bring a party to life. That's what I do. And I bloody love it.