Fear is a terrible business partner

I already have a business partner.

I don't need another one. Especially not this one.

This week the country is closing down. Everyone is at home, staring at the news, refreshing it as if refreshing changed anything. And in every small company I know of, someone is thinking the same thing: I have to decide something. Now.

Cut. Cancel. Freeze. Panic in a polite tone.

I get it. I feel it too. But I've noticed something about that feeling.

Fear gives very fast answers.

Almost none of them good.

The partner who's always in a hurry

Think of fear as a partner. What would it be like?

It would always want to decide today. It would never sleep on anything. It would read one headline and redo the whole plan. It would say yes to the first bad deal because "at least it's something". And it would say no to everything else, just in case.

Nobody would choose that partner. Yet in weeks like this one, a lot of us let it sit at the table.

I have a partner. Yeray. Part of his role, the way I see it, is to be the counterweight. When I speed up, he tends to slow things down. That's annoying. It's also, I suspect, part of why we're still here.

Fear always wants an answer today. Almost nothing important needs one.

So my rule for these weeks is simple: if a decision can wait a day, it waits a day. Even now. Especially now.

Why a small company can afford to wait

Here's the part that's less obvious.

Being able to wait a day is not just a matter of character. It's a matter of who you owe.

We have no investors. Nobody is expecting a growth curve from us this quarter. Nobody is going to ring and ask how we're going to hit the plan.

There is no plan to hit. There are clients to look after.

I call this patient money. Money from clients isn't in a hurry. It comes in month after month, in exchange for work, and doesn't come with a deadline attached. Money from investors comes with a stopwatch.

And in a week like this, I suspect the companies feeling the most fear are the ones that can hear it ticking. Not because they're worse. Because someone is waiting for numbers that, right now, nobody can promise.

We're small. We're two people. In normal times, that sounds like a weakness. This week, it sounds like air.

What I'm doing instead

Nothing heroic.

Answering clients. Asking what they need, instead of guessing. Not making cuts that I'd regret in May. Not signing anything just because it makes me feel busy.

That doesn't mean we'll be fine. I don't know that. Nobody does. Anyone who says they do is either selling something or scared.

But I'd rather be wrong slowly than wrong in a panic.

I already have a business partner. A calm one.

Fear can wait outside.

P.S. If you're reading this in a hurry, close it. It'll still be here tomorrow.