The Creative Process: Why I Skipped Every Grand Opening
The first company I co-founded developed and operated indoor climbing gyms. Over eight years, we opened seven locations, and I was primarily responsible for developing and launching the first five. Yet after years of work on each gym, I never attended a single grand-opening party.
What was the development and opening process for a climbing gym like?
The typical development timeline for a new gym is about three years. A climbing gym needs at least 25,000 square feet and tall, clear-span ceilings. For every ten possible locations I reviewed, only one might be a physical fit. Of those, only a few would also work financially and logistically for the landlord, developer, and our company. That meant investing significant time in projects that often never materialized.
Once we cleared those initial hurdles, the next challenges were setting a budget and agreeing on either a purchase price or lease terms. Climbing gyms are easy to understand but difficult to budget- large warehouse spaces with air conditioning, locker rooms, and specialized climbing wall equipment.
After we arrived at a budget, the contract fights with landlords or sellers would begin. Legal negotiations often took months and always cost money. And, of course, the final rent or purchase price usually ended up higher than where we started.
Assuming the contracts were sorted out, construction would begin: weekly on-site status meetings, innumerable small decisions, constant cost tracking, payment reviews, oversight of contractors, and the inevitable problems with angry neighbors or frustrated subcontractors.
At the same time, we were preparing the team to operate the new gym. That meant building long checklists for every task before opening, on opening day, and immediately afterward; pushing the marketing team on pre-opening sales; hiring new staff; and explaining to existing staff why they did not get the job.
And then, suddenly, it was real: the new location was opening. The grand-opening party had arrived. But I would not be there.
After all that time and all those struggles, I would leave town with my girlfriend and go on an outdoor climbing trip. Avoiding the celebration felt natural to me, though friends often told me it was strange. So why did I skip the party after so much work?
It really was the team
I was one of the owners and the person primarily responsible for the process that turned empty spaces into climbing gyms. But the truth is that a building process has too many inputs and outputs for one person to claim it alone. There are landlords and general contractors who understand the real estate. There are employees on the ground turning construction dust into customers. I may have led the charge, but I was still only one part of the system that built those gyms.
The work had only just started
A climbing gym is not truly a climbing gym until it is profitable, and profit is a daily, weekly, monthly, and yearly process. Often, building the thing is the least important part of business. The most important work is making money from what you build. As cold as it may sound, money is one of the clearest measurements that a vision has value.
I was not building a reflection of myself
The most common mistake I see among business builders is believing a business is an extension of themselves—a testament to who they are. But a building is just a building. It has only the meaning people give it, and its success depends on countless variables. The colors, the front desk, the rooms—none of those details matter on their own. If you start treating yourself as the builder of a monument, you risk making yourself just as meaningless.
Conclusion: Don’t let it get to your head
A multi-year project like opening a business is fueled by passion. But it is easy for that passion to bend toward selfishness. Turning a vision into reality requires some selfishness: ignoring loved ones from time to time, pushing staff and partners beyond where they want to go, and pushing yourself to your limit. As you test those limits, your confidence grows. And with that confidence, a subtler danger can take hold. Without obvious symptoms, confidence can harden into arrogance—the foolish belief that because you built something others admire, you must be important.
That belief is foolish because you achieved your vision by learning to ignore outside opinions, push past doubters, and stand firm in one direction. Then, once the vision is realized, you begin letting other people’s admiration matter more than your own judgment. In doing so, you surrender the very thing that helped you succeed.
The important tasks we take on—whether managing a department, building a spreadsheet, or leading a company—are fertile soil for that kind of arrogance. So find one part of the work that matters to you and give it away. Let someone else enjoy it. Let someone else claim it. That gift will make you stronger, and it may also make you happier.
After all, you were not doing it for acclaim, were you?
