Chapter 5: “Getting Started”
Reading Chapter 5 has been both inspiring and sobering. Reiss’s opening line about entrepreneurship separating “the men from the boys, the women from the girls” struck me as simultaneously motivating and intimidating. It’s that exact fear of failure he discusses that has kept me in the planning phase for far too long.
I can relate most to his reframing of failure. I’ve been paralyzed by the idea that starting a business and failing would somehow define me permanently. But his analogy to childhood experiences—how we eventually tried new activities despite initial fears—makes perfect sense. I can remember being terrified to try water skiing, convinced I’d embarrass myself. When I finally did it, I was terrible at first, but no one really cared, and the people who mattered were actually encouraging. That same principle applies to entrepreneurship, and I need to internalize that lesson.
The three-way comparison between starting from scratch, buying an existing business, and franchising was helpful. I’ve always assumed starting from scratch was the “pure” entrepreneurial path, but Reiss makes compelling arguments for the other approaches. The franchising statistics are eye-opening, especially the survival rates compared to independent businesses. However, his honest assessment of the trade-offs (giving up independence, ongoing royalties, limited creativity) helps me understand why franchising isn’t automatically the best choice.
What surprises me about the business structure discussion is how much I’ve been overthinking it. Reiss’s advice is essentially: get professional help, understand the key trade-offs, and don’t let perfect be the enemy of good. His point about many successful businesses starting as sole proprietorships and evolving later is reassuring—I don’t need to have everything figured out from day one.
The business plan section challenged some assumptions I’d developed from reading too many “startup guru” articles. I appreciate that he acknowledges business plans can feel tedious while still emphasizing their importance. His quote from John Altman about having “the business plan in my brain” but needing to share the vision with others really hit home. I’ve been guilty of changing my ideas “every three and a half seconds” and expecting others to follow along.
The financing section is where reality truly sets in. Reiss’s systematic breakdown of funding sources—from personal savings through strategic alliances—reads like a progression from least to most complex. His emphasis on starting with your own money and friends/family before approaching banks or investors makes sense, but it also highlights how much personal risk entrepreneurship involves. The section on friends and family money particularly resonated because I’ve been reluctant to even consider asking people close to me for financial support, worried about damaging relationships. His pragmatic advice about treating it seriously and planning for alternative sources if things go wrong is sobering but necessary.
The personnel section hit on something I’ve been avoiding thinking about seriously. Reiss’s brutal honesty about the “Great Black Hole” of personnel management is both discouraging and realistic. His advice about making “as big an investment as possible in your people” conflicts with the natural instinct to minimize costs early on, but I can see how short-sighted penny-pinching on talent could be devastating.
The location discussion opened my eyes to factors I hadn’t considered. I’ve been assuming I’d work from home initially, but his points about labor supply, suppliers, government incentives, and even state business climates make me realize location is more strategic than I thought. The incubator mention is particularly intriguing—I need to research what’s available in my area.
What I found most practical was the insurance section. This is exactly the kind of unglamorous but critical detail that I would have overlooked until it was too late. His comprehensive list of insurance types and the advice about working with a good agent to understand creative applications feels like essential groundwork.
The minority entrepreneurship section, while brief, reminded me that there are resources and programs I should be investigating regardless of my background. The MBDA programs sound worth exploring, and his broader point about networking and building relationships resonates throughout the chapter.
Reading this chapter has shifted my mindset from “I need the perfect plan before I start” to “I need to start with a reasonable plan and adapt as I learn.” Reiss’s emphasis on the low-risk, high-reward approach means I should be looking for ways to test my ideas and build momentum without betting everything on untested assumptions.
The most challenging aspect of this chapter is how it forces me to confront the personal psychological barriers I’ve created. Fear of failure, perfectionism, and wanting to control every variable have kept me in research mode for too long. Reiss’s message is clear: at some point, you have to take action, and the experience of actually doing it will teach you more than any amount of additional planning.
This chapter has convinced me that entrepreneurship isn’t about having all the answers upfront—it’s about being willing to start with incomplete information and learning as you go. That’s both terrifying and liberating.
Works Cited
Reiss, Bob, and Jeffrey L. Cruikshank. Low Risk, High Reward: Practical Prescriptions for Starting and Growing Your Business. R&R, 2000.
One response to “REFLECTION #5”
Hi Bridgett,
Thank you for sharing such an honest and insightful reflection. As someone who works in higher education, I see this kind of internal struggle all the time—not just in students, but in faculty and staff, too. The tension between planning and action is real, especially in environments where perfection and preparation are deeply valued. Your journey from “I need the perfect plan” to “I need to start and adapt” is not just an entrepreneurial mindset shift—it’s a critical learning mindset that we try to cultivate in our students every day.
Reiss’s reframing of failure really struck a chord with me as well. In higher ed, we often talk about “failing forward,” but it’s still hard to internalize that failure doesn’t define us—it shapes us. Your water skiing analogy beautifully captures the freedom that comes when we stop trying to control the outcome and just allow ourselves to try, mess up, and grow.
I also appreciated your take on personnel and location—two areas I’ve seen overlooked even in campus-based initiatives and startups within college incubators. The tendency to minimize costs or default to what’s most convenient often ends up costing more in the long run. Reiss’s advice to invest in people and consider strategic location factors is applicable far beyond traditional business—it applies to program design, student services, and even faculty hiring.
Lastly, your reflection on financing and the emotional complexities of seeking support from friends or family felt incredibly grounded. It’s a reminder that entrepreneurship is not just a financial or logistical endeavor—it’s deeply personal. That self-awareness and thoughtfulness will serve you well as you move from planning into action!