45 days ago, 5 young men who worked with OWO.world (my company) quit on me on the same day, one by text message.
I wept..
I wept bitterly, some tears because I grew to love them, some tears because of the realization of their tomorrow absence and some because of the death of the prideful feeling in me that I felt for them, my company and me. That feeling was the foundation of my entrepreneurial ego, a mental trophy that I valued more than the dreams of wealth we were working towards.
Most of the tears, however, came from the alternating emotions of my dizzy mind. My mind raced through its memory bank ferociously, returning various images of the past with these young men. Fractions of seconds of imagery here, sounds and laughter there, video like reals of fun debates and meetings along with whatever images it can put together about the future. Now my future... alone
Trembling childish sobs interrupted the flow of tears as my body forced my mind back to the present momentarily, then again as it sunk back into its furious search for answers, finally returning back the dictionary concept of betrayal and along with it, a whale cry uncontainable by my vocal cords.
My heart too began to cry as it agreed with my minds conclusion of betrayal.
Moments later, after my mind handed back control to my thoughts and the tears stopped
"there's a warehouse party tonight... you should come... I insist" read a text message on my phone-
a lovely young woman at the office across from me had shared my need for a pick me up to a friend
at first I declined... "rebuild" was now all my mind returned as thoughts queried the future.
"You should go", my son told me. You need it. We are a father, son team now... tonight you should go out and forget this.
And I did, caution was out the window as I danced the night away. I danced as madly as I cried hours earlier. I submitted my mind into a worry-free trance and took my anger out on the dance floor.
In my trance, I wished for cocaine and LSD and they came, I wished for alcohol and weed and they came. My level of don't give a fuck was raised and sensual dancing with beautiful women resumed my night.
I thought back to the lovely woman who knew I needed this, I thanked her from miles away
It's times like these, I love my white friends... I thought to myself.
The next morning,
I woke up feeling different. Subconscious solutions must have laid on my pillow. It wasn't clarity, it wasn't an aha moment. "rebuild" was still the answer my mind returned, but that feeling of feeling different was apparent inside my chest. The desire for the prideful feeling as my entrepreneurial ego was gone, something remained from last night, it's glowing inside my chest. I can feel it.
As I walked to get breakfast and passed various humans I co-exist with along this time and space, I realized my usual feeling of empathy was less than the usual me, I bumped into a young man who had stopped by the OWO office in curiosity of what we do and how he can help and I immediately looked at him as a future betrayer. I then realized the new level of don't give a fuck hadn't dissipated back to social norms.
I spent some time that Sunday in reflection, contemplating the "elevated" me. I thought of the many stories of rich folks who are known to be assholes. I thought back to the many rich folks I've called assholes at even their eye glance evaluation of my worth. It hit me then, how they became hardened men and women. Many have stories beyond 100% of their team quitting on them. They pulled through, they listened to their minds call to "rebuild" and earned their story. They are legends in their own right, asterisk with reputations.
I cannot change the new re-write of my DNA this pain caused. It's a memory that will pass to my future children. I cannot remove this experience from my memory and undo the altered me. I am hardened from this experience as arguably I should be. Entrepreneurially, everything I worked for was put at risk. They didn't give a fuck about me. Regardless the laughs, good times and comradery the decency and respect that should have been shown with at least a two-week notice wasn't given to the man who presented these young men, with an opportunity.
There may be a generational, or cultural disconnect in understanding the powerful word "OPPORTUNITY".
I think back to the time, Beenie Seagal (rapper) "dissed" Jay-Z and weeks later grew up and apologized, stating "he should have done better with the OPPORTUNITY Jay-Z gave him".
There are two types of opportunities, one you create yourself by opening your mouth and saying something (regardless where you are) and the other are opportunities that are presented to you. The later you have to recognize.
The OPPORTUNITY to OWN a piece of a company is the rarest of presented opportunities. Much like Beenie Seagal, I hope when these young men grew up, they will know that.
45 days ago, 5 young black men who worked with OWO.world (my company) quit on me on the same day, one by text message.
Since then I followed my minds resolve to rebuild, with the help of my son, Terek. We are a father, son team.
These days I wake up in the morning with a mental replay of the counter advice given by investor Cyan Banister years ago in San Francisco. "I did it without a team," she said, "you don't need a team, I'm okay with that" she continued, her hardened story apparent in her tone.
I outsource here and there as needed. However, my survival need to build beautiful products keeps the code in my hands.
In the end, OWO is beautiful. I built a product of imagination, triumph, pride, love, and pain. It's part revenge and part revolution.
As for me, I'm now more apparent of my transition to rich asshole. I apologize to the accomplished hardened men and women whom I've called assholes in the past, on forth, I'll head nod in understanding.
written by Anari Sengbe, creator of www.owo.world