Confessions of a Failed Martial Arts School Owner – Part 3
Echoes of kaiais bounced off the white walls of the fourteen-hundred square foot strip-mall box situated between a liquor store and a dry cleaner business. With every count I shouted in Hangul, the half-a-dozen tiny voices roared with enthusiasm and confidence as each student executed the prescribed movement while adorned in their crisp white dobaks decorated with the kanji of the school on the front and the school’s colorful red and blue logo on the back. Most of the students in the class had returned from my previous attempt at starting my school and I had a few new students sprinkled into the mix. New or old, they all worked hard and encouraged each other despite the occasional inter-student ribbing so common in adolescent competition. I don’t believe I ever lost my smile when class was in session.
Just a few months earlier, I was on the search for a new location to restart my school. Having two full-time jobs and a part-time gig, I now could afford to keep the still insolvent dojang open while meeting my personal financial obligations. Unfortunately, I had no luck during the application process of the four locations I tried to rent because of my previous failed attempt at my business.
One cold January day, defeated from another rejection, I drove into the massive parking lot of my old location. Whether I was seeking inspiration from seeing where my dream started or wanting to pile on the self-deprecation from the reminder of my first failure, I parked in front of the old space and walked up to the large windowed store front. To my surprise, it was still empty.
Curious, and believing another rejection wouldn’t make matters worse, I called my previous landlord. It turns out, he still couldn’t find a lessee for the space – information I gathered after a very cold small-talk conversation. I didn’t blame him for being upset at my previous departure. Gathering up all the courage and charm I could muster, I asked if he’d rent the space to me again. The answer, emphatic as it was, notched another rejection on my belt.
Perhaps it wasn’t in the cards to restart my school. Maybe you only get one shot at things like this. I don’t know if it was ignorance or stubbornness – probably both – but I decided to keep pursuing my old location. It took about two weeks of calling to get through a negotiation that began with a ridiculously steep up-front price tag and ultimately ended with a reasonably steep price tag and signing for the keys once again.
My dream was resuscitated through relentlessness and, most notably, luck. I spent the next week furiously marketing, calling former student families and offering them return deals that would make any business owner cringe, and moving all my equipment back in to set up the school for a hopeful resurgence that would last forever. I was back open and my financial runway wasn’t needed because I was making enough money to support my life and my school.
Setting up internet at my business, my day consisted of working on my day jobs from the school’s office and holding classes in the afternoons and evenings. I had parent’s night out events, dojo parties, and even held a few anti-bullying seminars for students and their friends. My social media accounts spilled ads all over my friends lists and I constantly posted pictures and videos of the day’s events. I remembered a phrase about taking massive action to achieve desired results and I tried to embody that mantra. I was back and the school was growing.
With the higher price tag, my solvent student count rose quite a bit. It didn’t seem unreachable, but I knew it would take longer than I anticipated. I created a competition team program and a leadership program to add more profit centers to my business model. To my surprise, the slots filled up quickly and students were spending hours at the school each night soaking up the activities and instruction. I was thrilled and my goal was finally in reach. Clear skies were up ahead.
You know that saying, “when it rains, it pours?” Well, despite my clear sky outlook, clouds loomed on the horizon. At first, I didn’t realize what was happening, but then thunder struck and the clouds opened up. I was let go just ninety days after beginning my consulting position due to the shrinking economy and the business drying up at my boutique consulting firm. A week later I lost my logistics manager position due to a round of layoffs from the corporate giant I worked for that I believed was the most solid company in the United States. The only thing putting food on my table was my part-time on-call role which, as one can imagine, was sparse support at best.
No matter how I ran the numbers, I was deep under water. My anxiety skyrocketed and my depression drove me into the dark. How could this be happening? I looked into the eyes of my students, the ones who trusted me to be their mentor not once, but twice, and my eyes constantly pooled up with tears. Sleepless nights became the norm. Seeking advice from several professional and personal business and finance colleagues, the devastating option sitting in front of me was bankruptcy.
My life has brought many heartbreaking failures. Loss was not a new phenomenon and I have endured even more devastating loss than I could have ever imagined. However, this detonation of my professional career imploded my personal life and my dream of having my own martial arts school. Not only was I losing my school, I was losing the way I lived on a day-to-day basis. I filed for bankruptcy and wiped my life to zero.
Driving away from my martial arts school for the last time, car filled to the ceiling with mats and equipment, I wept. Grief is experienced through stages. Unfortunately, those stages aren’t linear and each may be repeated several times.
Martial arts is the touchstone of my life, foundational in every domain I operate in. I still train in my garage, my school’s equipment watching me in disappointment and missing the joyful little voices of the students that so gleefully trained with them. My life is spent wandering around, arms full of the life pieces I try to pick up and usually dropping other pieces, just trying to keep things together. Starting from zero is difficult when I remember what I had.
Perseverance is a tenet I’ve lived by since I began my martial arts journey. Having the constitution to endure the hardships this harsh world throws my way gives me a small glimmer of hope for my future. Perhaps that glimmer is enough to dare to dream again.
“Fall down eight times, get up nine times” – Confucius, I think…
Jeff Curry
- Confessions of a Failed Martial Arts School Owner – Part 3 - July 13, 2023
- Confessions of a Failed Martial Arts School Owner – Part 2 - May 23, 2023
- Confessions of a Failed Martial Arts School Owner – Part 1 - May 12, 2023
Leave a Reply