I Made More Money Working 10 Hours a Week Than 100

There was a period where I was working 100 hours a week. Not exaggerating. My brother, who was my roommate at the time, was furious with me. The house was a mess. I was barely sleeping. I had an office, staff, project managers, a fleet of sales reps — the whole operation.

Six months after starting with nothing but a lawn mower, we were charting $50,000 to $100,000 a month in revenue. From the outside, it looked like I'd made it. I was 21 years old running what looked like a real company.

From the inside, I was about to crash and burn.

More Staff Meant More Problems

The logic seemed airtight. I was spending too much time managing everything myself, so I hired project managers. I applied for government grants to subsidize the hiring. I brought on people in their 30s — experienced, capable people. I had about 10 sales reps going out doing exterior maintenance jobs. Everything was scaling.

But here's what I didn't understand: more staff doesn't reduce your workload. It changes it. Instead of doing the work myself, I was now managing the people who were supposed to be managing the work. More mouths to feed, more fires to put out, more decisions that only I could make.

Every person I added created new problems that required my attention. The project managers needed direction. The sales reps needed training and oversight. The subcontractors needed quality checks. And when something went wrong — which happened constantly — it all rolled uphill to me.

The Breaking Point

I remember going to my business partner and saying: "I'm working 100 hours a week. I don't know what you're doing, but I need help. I'm a week away from crashing and burning."

I went to my managers and told them the same thing. I said: "I love you guys. I'm trying to make this work for everybody. But the only reason any of this is running is because I'm out there every day doing door-to-door, closing deals, putting that money into the rest of the business — which isn't bringing money back."

I gave everyone two weeks to get things back on track. Nothing changed. So I shut it down.

The Number That Changed Everything

After I cut everything and went back to working by myself, something hit me that I didn't expect.

I was making more money working 10 hours a week than I was working 100 hours a week with the full team.

Let that sink in. All those staff, all that overhead, all those 4 AM nights and missed meals and my brother yelling at me about the state of the apartment — and the net result was less money in my pocket than when I just grabbed my tools and went knocking on doors by myself.

The revenue was higher with the team. Way higher. But the profit wasn't even close.

Revenue Is Not Profit

This is the trap that gets a lot of business owners. Revenue feels good. Hiring feels like progress. An office and staff and vehicles — that feels like a real business. But if your costs scale faster than your margins, you're just building a more expensive way to stay broke.

With exterior maintenance, I could knock on a few doors, close a couple of gutter cleaning jobs, make $200 an hour, and be done by lunch. No overhead. No subcontractor drama. No employee issues. Just me, my tools, and a customer who was happy.

With the full operation, I had payroll, rent, insurance, vehicle costs, marketing spend, and a seemingly endless supply of crises that needed cash to resolve. The gross revenue number was impressive. The take-home was embarrassing.

What I Learned

That year was the most expensive education I've ever received, and it was worth every dollar.

Here's what it taught me:

Build lean first. Don't hire until you absolutely have to. Every person you add should directly generate or protect revenue that exceeds their cost by a wide margin. If you're hiring to reduce your workload without a clear revenue justification, you're adding cost, not capacity.

Profit margins matter more than revenue. A $30,000 month where you keep $25,000 is infinitely better than a $100,000 month where you keep $5,000 and have a heart attack. Track your actual take-home, not your top line.

Doing more isn't always more. I thought working harder and hiring faster would solve my problems. It made them worse. The answer wasn't more — it was less, done better.

Know when to cut. I waited too long. I should have recognized the signs a month earlier than I did. If you're working twice as hard for the same or less money, something is structurally wrong with the business — and more effort won't fix a structural problem.

I was lucky. I learned all of this at 22 with a lawn mower business. A lot of owners learn it at 45 with a second mortgage on the line. The lesson is the same either way: build the business that actually works before you try to build the business that looks impressive.