Stress

My mother called me today because she is worried that I am dying. Having observed me throughout the holiday season, when I was entertaining eleven people in my relatively modest house for a full week, all in the midst of launching a new business, she noticed that I seemed a little tense.

“Jane, you busy? Something I want ask to you. Something you not telling me?” She wanted to know. “You tell me anything. Your Daddy and I talk about it, we think something unusual.”

My mother is obsessed with death because one of her best friends had a son who was an investment banker and died at the age of 33 from a heart attack because he “work too hard, have big, big stress.” I think I was promised to him at some late evening “gae” night (the unofficial Korean small business loan program), when his father approached my father after several bottles of Johnny Walker and observed that despite my dark-ish skin, I appeared to be an acceptable and dutiful daughter worthy of his son.

“I’m not going to have a heart attack, Mom,” I tried to reassure her while feeding copies of my investor agreement into my copier. “I’m, uh, shit! The paper’s jammed again! Anyway, I’m fine.”

“You very lucky, Jane,” my mom said quietly, in a way that made me stop messing with the copier to sit and listen. “Button (what my mom calls my husband), I never see such a good father like him. When I see your family, you are so happy.”

“I’ve just got a lot on my mind, Mom. I’m sorry if I was impatient when you were here,” I admitted sheepishly.

“You just tell me if anything is wrong. Anything.”

“I don’t have cancer mom! My heart is fine! I promise I will tell you if I have a serious illness.”

“Okay Jane. You just telling me. Having a fun! Bye!”

I guess I have been out of sorts lately. I have been more irritable than usual at home lately, and my neck has started cracking loudly whenever I look anywhere other than dead straight ahead. So last week I started exercising to help channel out some of my anxiety.

It turns out that the treadmill is a pretty dangerous piece of equipment. Who knew. I was getting into a groove, running to George Michael’s “Faith,” when I suddenly remembered something so disasterously stupid I had said to a prospective investor. It made me want to disappear into a hole, which made me squeeze my eyes shut (first step to disappearing, as every toddler knows), which made me step off the rubber part of the treadmill, which made me hop ridiculously through the air and skid off the treadmill.

I stuck my landing, though.

My friend Kelly is always reminding me to celebrate the small victories along the way.

Why am I doing this?

So here’s why I’m embarking on this journey, summed up in a letter to prospective investors that I wrote to introduce my business plan:


Dear Prospective Investor,

First, I want to thank you for picking up this business plan and being interested in learning more about Julep.

The idea for Julep really came together after an inspiring "girls weekend" with my two dearest friends from graduate school. Throughout that weekend (during which we watched both the BBC and the Keira Knightly versions of "Pride and Prejudice"), I felt like I had the space to be a "me" that I don't have much time to be when I am at home, busy being a mother, wife, and business leader. I was energized by how all three of us, now in our mid-thirties, had finally become so much more comfortable in our own skins. I felt like I was connecting all sorts of dots that I couldn't even see without them. If you're a woman (or a highly empathetic man), you know how it is with amazing girlfriends. In short, I felt engaged, and I loved it.

Karma, and our love of sandals, led us to a day spa for pedis that weekend. Unfortunately, none of the nine spas we called had seating where we could all be together, so we had to settle for split appointments. Someday, I'd like to look back on this moment and say, "the rest was history."

In the following pages, you'll read about how Julep will transform commoditized, functional nail services into an engaging social ritual that will give women the space to reconnect with their friends and themselves. But I want you to know that, at its core, Julep is about nurturing and sharing the spirit of engagement that I rediscovered that weekend.

Julep will succeed only if we build the kind of company that demands honesty, rigor, and dedication to personal and professional growth from each and every employee. By building this demanding and rewarding working community, I believe that we will provide a level of service that is yet to be experienced. I will use all of my experience as a leader at Starbucks, a strategist at The Boston Consulting Group, a rigorous thinker at the Yale Law School, and a daughter of immigrant small business owners to make Julep all that it should be.

Julep will achieve strong financial results. But even more importantly, Julep will become an enduring company that you will be proud to be part of.

So thank you, thank you, Ali and Renata (my dear friends from the Pride and Prejudice weekend). Thank you Carrie, Christine, Sandy, Liz, and all the members of my fabulous bookgroup, especially Julie, Michelle, and Rachael. I hope this endeavor will help carry forward and share more broadly all the strength, wisdom, generosity and humor each of you brings to the world.

And, again, thank you dear prospective investor. I hope you will enjoy imagining and creating this world with me. Here's to friends and community.

Jane