Project Person // A personal update + business comparison

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A (fairly sizable) personal update: Three weeks ago, we received a text from our foster agency that the sibling set of kiddos we were in the stalled-out process of bringing home were—surprise!—in the car on their way to us. 

An hour and a half later, our family doubled. 

There are so many layers to this story that I am not even sure where to begin.

Our family of five is now a family of nine, and I just keep saying, “This is so big.” Everything is jumbo-sized now: the stuff, the van, the food, the emotions. Big highs and big lows.

If I were to summarize the last few weeks in one sentence (I am typing this having no idea what I am about to write), I’d say this:

There is so much more meaning to every experience, relationship, learning, or heartache than we ever realize in the moment. 

Like it’s all some strange new magnet, memories and experiences from the past have come shooting forth now: the relationships we made that are sustaining us, the church we joined that taught us what talking to God could really look like, the business we built that is providing for this gaggle of children we are currently fostering but are hoping to adopt.

Our old life is long gone, and while this new one is total mayhem, we wouldn’t give it up.

There are a few pieces of Old Us that we still want to fight for though, and strangely this email is one of them. I love writing, love processing my thoughts with you, love hearing what you’re learning too. So with no promises about the cadence or content, I want to keep this up in one way or another. 

In the last email I sent, when I didn’t know our life was about to flip, I promised a comparison between my first business (The Big Fake Wedding) and my current one (Same Page HR). So with a very new lens now—and way less time to think this through or edit, whoknowswhatImabouttosay—here’s why my current business is so much more sustainable for me, especially in this wild season: 

🪩 It’s debt-free and profitable. I hate that I am leading with that, but it’s true. We intentionally set up Same Page to run at a healthy margin, and we monitor it diligently. Matt and I took on side gigs for the first two years as we built the business, taking out a tiny salary and adding to it little by little. We joked that those side gigs were our investors. We also built a savings account. They call profit “margin” for a reason, and it really is a gift to all involved (clients, team, owners), as it gives you the space to make good decisions. 

The Big Fake Wedding wasn’t profitable for awhile, and then once I learned what profit even was, we worked like crazy to get it there. It was always very thin though, with no savings account, so every.single.thing felt life-or-death. 

🪩 There’s recurring revenue. At Same Page, we start each month with revenue, praise be. If you don’t have a business with recurring revenue (or recurring donations, if you’re a non-profit), can you find a way to get there? 

With The Big Fake Wedding, every sale was a hustle. That’ll wear you right out. 

🪩 I have a business partner. Just like people love to tell pregnant ladies their labor horror stories, people love to tell me why having a business partner will ruin my life. Maybe it will one day, but so far it’s been an incredibly positive experience having someone in this with me, 50/50. What a gift to have someone else who cares the same way, who can also carry the responsibility and weight! We can pep talk one another, fill in each other’s gaps, and really lean on the other when we need to. 

I had some unbelievable employees at The Big Fake Wedding who really acted like owners and carried big burdens, but employees just aren’t tied to the business in the same way a partner is. 

🪩 We have a key employee. We always say we can’t spell Same Page without Sam, and it’s true: Sam is an employee of ours that really runs the show. We trust her implicitly, and she leads our team with the perfect mix of high standards and good vibes. 

I’ll also add here that I can’t do the work. I am not an HR pro, so there’s no chance of me getting sucked into the work. If a great employee left at The Big Fake Wedding, I would inevitably just take over their job for a while until we hired someone new. That kept me from ever thinking about the business; I was always just so deeply in it. 

🪩 It’s not my identity. This is the kicker. I think because Same Page isn’t my first business and because technically Matt founded it and because I just don’t see my legacy being tied to an HR company, I just don’t find my identity in this business. I do find deep meaning in the work and my role here, and I feel very strongly that this business fuels a deeper mission for me. But I just don’t feel like I am Same Page. (Which is good, because I’m not!) 

With The Big Fake Wedding, if we ever received negative feedback, I took it entirely to be about me. In my mind, the business and I were one and the same. (Which was bad, because we weren’t!) 

Same Page is not perfect. We’ve had a slow and frustrating summer, in fact, and we’re rethinking a few things. We run spreadsheets when we are stressed to see how long we could go if every single client disappeared tomorrow. We wonder when we will ever feel as real or healthy or fast-growing as other businesses. 

But the day the kiddos came home, I got to call Matt and Sam and tell them it was happening, and they graciously let me disappear.

I get to read amazing client feedback, to see People Partners thriving, to pull a paycheck and disbursement that allow our family to double.

And I don’t think about work on the weekend but I look forward to logging back in on Monday. (Isn’t that like the pinnacle of work feelings?!) 

So at the risk of jinxing it all with an email about why I like my business, I’ll say this to anyone that’s in the thick of an opposite experience: What you’re learning and experiencing now is not for nothing. I don’t think I’d appreciate Same Page like this if I didn’t have the stress and exhaustion of The Big Fake Wedding. I wouldn’t have built a profitable model now if I hadn’t experienced the pain of debt previously. I wouldn’t be as comfortable with the idea of failure if I hadn’t already failed. 

Every experience builds on itself if we let it. If you start over, you’re not starting from zero.

So when it’s hard, what if that’s preparing you for something? 

And when it’s good, what if you’re not jinxing it all by admitting that it’s good? What if it’s a blessing, the fruit of years and years of preparation? 

(Or even just a sweet mercy?)

Probably—most likely actually—it’s both.

Hard and good.

I think maybe when we realize—and revel, celebrate, and honor—that both can be true, that’s when it gets sustainable.

-Callie

Next time, … I have no idea. Will I have something to say in a week or two? I’m barely thinking an hour or two ahead so who knows!! Stay tuned!