The Wrap Business

I've always had an entrepreneurial streak.

Some people call it initiative.

Others...

...might call it creative accounting.

I'll let you decide.

When I was about fifteen, I'd been working at McDonald's for around six months.

Like most teenagers who'd just landed their first job, I suddenly believed I knew everything there was to know about making great burgers.

Or, more accurately...

Great wraps.

Now, Mum and Dad had three growing kids at home.

By that stage we all ate like adults, which meant the fridge was permanently stocked.

Cold meats.

Cheese.

Salad.

Pickles.

Sauces.

Fresh bread.

Wraps.

Everything you could possibly need to build something delicious.

Then one day, inspiration struck.

If Mum and Dad were already buying the ingredients...

...why couldn't I turn them into wraps and sell them at school?

From a fifteen-year-old's perspective, it was flawless.

No rent.

No wages.

No utilities.

No inventory costs.

One hundred percent profit.

I was convinced I'd discovered business.

Business Was Booming

It started with one or two friends.

Then word spread.

Before long, I was taking orders for next-day delivery.

Each morning, before the rest of the house had even stirred, my production line was already in full swing.

Wraps stretched across the kitchen table in various stages of construction.

Ham.

Chicken.

Salad.

Sauce.

Fold.

Wrap.

Repeat.

What I didn't realise at the time was that I wasn't just making sandwiches.

Without knowing it, I was learning some of the fundamentals of business.

I had identified a market.

Created a product people wanted.

Built a simple production process.

Established a pre-order system.

Delivered on time.

And generated repeat customers.

For a fifteen-year-old, it wasn't a bad little business.

The profits rolled in.

Suddenly, I could afford the latest Nintendo games.

A shiny new Motorola flip phone.

Life was good.

I genuinely believed I was a young entrepreneur.

Looking back...

I suppose I was.

I just hadn't grasped one small detail.

My business model depended entirely on someone else's grocery bill.

The Audit

Every business eventually faces an audit.

Mine came in the form of my parents.

One afternoon I overheard Dad talking to Mum upstairs.

He couldn't understand why the fridge was empty again.

"How are we going through this much food?"

The conversation gradually made its way downstairs.

Unfortunately for me...

They arrived in the kitchen just as I was operating what could only be described as a commercial wrap factory.

About ten wraps were spread across the bench.

Each one at a different stage of assembly.

Dad stopped.

Looked at the wraps.

Looked at me.

Looked back at the wraps.

The mystery of the disappearing groceries had finally been solved.

Then Mum quietly did the maths.

There was absolutely no way my part-time McDonald's wage could explain the number of Nintendo games appearing in my bedroom.

Or my brand-new Motorola flip phone.

A reckoning was coming.

A Good Business... Built on the Wrong Foundation

Looking back now as a parent, I smile.

I actually love the spirit that fifteen-year-old James had.

He saw an opportunity.

He created value.

He solved a problem.

He was willing to get up early and work for it.

Those are qualities worth celebrating.

The problem wasn't the business.

The problem was the foundation it was built on.

I had confused access with ownership.

Just because I had access to the groceries didn't mean they were mine to build a business with.

At fifteen, I didn't understand the difference.

Today, I think it's one of the most important leadership lessons I've ever learned.

Stewardship Changes Everything

I've discovered that many leadership mistakes begin with the same misunderstanding.

We confuse access with ownership.

We have access to a budget.

So we spend it as though it's ours.

We have authority over a team.

So we begin acting as though the people belong to us.

We inherit a successful business.

Then slowly start believing we built it.

Leadership has a funny way of exposing our assumptions.

The truth is, very little actually belongs to us.

Our roles.

Our influence.

Our opportunities.

Even the people we lead.

They're entrusted to us for a season.

Not to possess.

But to steward well.

Coaching Is Stewardship Too

One of the greatest privileges I have as a coach is walking alongside people as they pursue their own growth.

Notice I said their growth.

Not mine.

I don't own their journey.

I don't make their decisions.

I don't write their story.

I'm simply invited into a chapter of it.

That changes everything.

It means coaching isn't about creating dependence.

It's about helping people become confident enough to lead without you.

Good coaching doesn't produce followers.

It develops leaders.

Because stewardship is always about preparing people for what comes next.

The Difference Between Ownership and Stewardship

Ownership asks,

"What can I get?"

Stewardship asks,

"What has been entrusted to me?"

Ownership seeks control.

Stewardship accepts responsibility.

Ownership accumulates.

Stewardship multiplies.

Ownership focuses on rights.

Stewardship focuses on care.

The older I get, the more convinced I become that leadership is one of life's greatest stewardship responsibilities.

People place enormous trust in us.

Their careers.

Their confidence.

Sometimes even their wellbeing.

Those things aren't ours to consume.

They're ours to care for.

The Wrap Business Didn't Last

Needless to say...

My wrap empire closed almost immediately.

Turns out parents make remarkably effective regulators.

There were no appeals.

No compensation package.

No government bailout.

Just a firm reminder that if I wanted to run a business...

I needed to start by buying my own ingredients.

It wasn't the lesson I wanted.

But it was probably the lesson I needed.

Because years later I've realised something.

The entrepreneurial spirit that drove fifteen-year-old James wasn't the problem.

In fact, I hope I've never lost it.

Curiosity.

Initiative.

Seeing opportunities where others don't.

Those are qualities every leader should nurture.

What needed to grow wasn't my ambition.

It was my understanding of responsibility.

The best leaders never stop looking for better ways to serve, improve and create value.

But they also recognise that every opportunity, every resource and every relationship has been entrusted to them.

Not to consume.

To steward.

Whether that's a team.

A family.

A business.

Or simply...

A very well-stocked fridge.

Reflection

Before your next leadership decision, ask yourself:

• Am I building something with resources I've been entrusted with, or acting as though they belong to me?

• Where have I confused access with ownership?

• What opportunities has God entrusted to me for this season?

• How can I leave what I've been given better than I found it?

• If someone looked at the way I lead, would they describe me as an owner... or a steward?