Sometimes a shortcut doesn’t seem like a shortcut

When I was in high school, I lived too close to the school to take the bus. Most of the time, that was fine because my parents had work schedules that allowed for pretty easy drop off and pick up, especially since I was in the band and spent most of the year in after-school practice sessions of one type or another.

Every now and then, there was a conflict and I didn’t have a ride home. Not from my parents and not from friends. My school was situated at the corner of an intersection of two four-lane roads, though one of them had significantly less traffic than the other. That one was the one I had to cross to get to my house.

I had three options for going home. Route 1 involved walking at the edge of a winding road beside a steep ditch and no safe place for pedestrians. Route 2 would take me in the opposite direction of my house up and down some steep hills with a sidewalk on part of the route. Route 3 involved cutting through an apartment complex and park. Of the three options, this one was the shortest and the safest.

My shortcut through the apartments and park was ideal. There was shade most of the way and after crossing the road beside the school, I never had to spend much time on major roads with no sidewalks. The time it took me to get home was cut by more than half as well.

One day, I got to the back of the apartments and found the gate in the chain-link fence was locked. It was an eight-foot-tall fence and it had always been there, but the gate had stood open (or at least unlocked) for as long as I’d known about it.

Just like I had as a child, I started to climb. It had been years since I’d climbed a chain-link fence and I realized pretty quickly that my teenaged self wasn’t as small and nimble as my child-sized self. My feet were bigger and wider and it hurt to insert my adult-sized toes into the diamond-shaped holes.

I thought about taking one of the other routes. But one direction had construction guys who didn’t mind objectifying a teenage girl. The other direction was the longest and I just wanted to get home as fast as possible. So, I took the drastic step of throwing my backpack over the fence to force me to get over. I even cried a bit when I thought it couldn’t do it at one point.

It probably took me 15 minutes to finally get over that fence. I was frustrated, hot, and at fifteen, I officially felt like I was no longer a kid. My biggest motivator was knowing that the hard part was getting to the top and getting down the other side would mean I could sit in the shade to cool off.

I made it over that fence that day and the time I saved was worth the extra effort.

My struggle to get over the fence is a lot like business owners who aren’t marketers and don’t know where to begin with figuring out a strategy.

Advice and ideas come from so many people and places, with promises of great results. But the routes they want you to take can be so much longer and hurt your business by not working as expected.

In truth, strategic planning is a shortcut. It just doesn’t seem like one. It takes time and thinking and it can even be a difficult investment in your business - one that not every business owner can afford when they most need it.

The confidence and clarity that comes with knowing what you want and the steps to take to get there is invigorating. It can keep you going when you want to quit. And you will want to quit sometimes. (I know I have.)

Changing direction is always an option when you realize the path you’re on isn’t the right choice. And when it’s right, you’ll do what’s necessary to overcome the barriers to your success.