London, Winter 2001

“So” I asked, “ what do you do?”

“I’m an entrepreneur”, he said with a full stop as his make-up streaked and he shifted in his frock. His quietly assured West Coast lilt made me feel awkward, not just because I was strangely attracted to a man in a dress, but because I hadn’t met any entrepreneurs before and wasn’t sure what they did.

Not wanting my ignorance to end the conversation with the most handsome man at the party, instead I exclaimed “HOW interesting!” with an English politeness, subtly signalling further clarification.

Alas, all I went on to glean was:

1. He had an idea but no office or anything to show me. Often known as unemployment.

2. His idea would totally revolutionize the way mobile phones and music interacted. O-kay…Picturing my ‘one trick brick’ Nokia, anything other than a text or call would need a revolutionary solution.

3. He couldn’t tell me any more as his lawyers made the team all swear to secrecy. Li-aarrrr. Li-arr cute ass is on fire.

Mildly concerned that the best looking guy at the party was probably unemployed and definitely a little ‘out there’, I went to get a top up. As you do.

I think he may have seen I was struggling to grasp his grand plans. Maybe that was an inherent trait of ‘entrepreneurs’.

“Wait” he said like a kid with a new toy, “I gotta show you something”.

As he walked away, my mind reeled. When he returned, he was beaming.

Stretched open in his hand lay a business card like nothing I’d ever seen: dancing across the canary yellow square the word SHAZAM! jumped out in bright red capitals like a Leichenstein cartoon.

I smiled. He was magic.

Then he leant in uncomfortably close, looked me straight in the eyes and said matter-of-factly, “What we’re going to do is SO cool it’s insane!”

I smiled again. Mainly at the twinkle in his eyes, dancing like a firework.

I concluded there and then this guy — this entrepreneur — was …. insane. He began to explain the mechanics of what they were building, but didn’t give a clue away as to how it would work. The product was a kind of blank box in my mind.

Yet, I had never met anyone so intent on achieving something. And with eyes wide open, completely captivated, I almost fell forward onto him as he told his story.

If entrepreneur meant captivating, insane and came in a curious box, I got it. I caught his stardust.

* * * * * * * * *

Back then, post dot.com bust, you could count the number of tech-entrepreneurs in London on one hand. ‘Startup’ was not a buzzword; there were no ‘Meetups’; iPhones hadn’t been invented; there was no iTunes store and apps didn’t really exist. Mobiles were simply clunky plastic bricks that few people owned.

Despite these fairly substantial impediments, the man in the dress went on to launch what has become one of the most successful music apps of all time — Shazam. It’s even earned verb status — you ‘Shazam’ it, just as you ‘Google’ it.

16 years later I wondered if I was an entrepreneur; or just in a displaced box of daydreaming folly masquerading as a businesswoman.

There’s an interesting debate about whether entrepreneurs are simply born or are nurtured. In my opinion, the word ‘entrepreneur’ has no meaning if separated from the word ‘enterprise’. In French, both come from entreprendre meaning “to undertake”.

An enterprise is “an undertaking that is especially difficult, complicated or risky”. A person who is enterprising has “the ability or desire to do dangerous or difficult things” with a “readiness to engage in daring or difficult action to solve problems in new ways”.

Or, put another way, an entrepreneur is someone whose ideas are equally ballsy and bonkers who hustles until you believe their mission to change the world is simply brilliant (and do-able. Worth loads of cash).

Steven Pressfield nails it for me in his book ‘The War of Art’:

“Self-doubt can actually be an ally because it serves as an indicator or aspiration. It reflects love, love of something we dream of doing. If you find yourself asking, and asking others, ‘am I really an entrepreneur?’ … chances are you are. The counterfeit innovator is wildly self-confidant. The real one is scared to death”.

So fast-forward 13 years and at 34, I am an entrepreneur by that qualifier. I shit bricks, love my venture and all its pivoting associates. Plus question my ability to realize such lofty dreams and haven’t even yet launched. Just in MVP mode.

Grab me some fancy dress now, there’s a corporate party I need to crash — I am an (accidental) entrepreneur after all.

Taxi!