Starting Up

This is a story of a startup and will be told in two phases.

It was in 1992 that my twin brother Nick and I entertained the idea of starting our own landscape company. We had worked together at two other landscaping companies and were growing restless. We wanted something of our own. Something we could build, not just manage.

By September 1992, Panoramic Landscape Services was born, backed by $40,000 we couldn’t afford to lose. It wasn’t just capital, it was risk, pressure, and the quiet understanding that failure wasn’t really an option.

Nick ran operations while I handled sales and accounting, skills we had picked up while working for the other companies. On paper, it made sense. In reality, we were still figuring things out as we went.

It was a leap of faith. I had a young family and we were barely getting by while Nick was single and so for the first year he gave up his paycheck so I could keep mine. At the time, it felt practical. Looking back, it was something more: trust, loyalty, and sacrifice.

We secured a contract that would cover the rest of 1992 but ended up waiting 90 days to get paid. That was our first real test. Cash flow, more than profit, was the early lesson. We got through it, but not without a few sleepless nights.

Late in 1992, I made a cold call at a hotel near BWI airport. I offered to spread a pile of mulch sitting in their parking lot just to win their 1993 maintenance contract. The deal closed. From there, word spread, and we picked up more hotels around the airport. Before long, those same name brand hotels began using us in other cities.

At that point, it became about building relationships and how one opportunity could quietly lead to another. The energy was boundless.

The best cold call I ever made.

What I didn’t realize then was how often success hinges on moments like that. Small decisions, taken without overthinking, that changed the trajectory of everything.
Sales for the 1993 season took off. We repaid our investment and started hiring. For the first time, it felt like the risk might actually pay off.

The years that followed brought steady growth. When we hit five years, there was a sense of relief. We’d read that most businesses don’t make it that far. Maybe we were doing something right.

By 2000, the company was thriving. Long hours, constant pressure, growing responsibility, it had all become normal.

And that’s where I missed something important.

What felt like dedication to the business slowly became absence at home. I didn’t see it clearly at the time, but the cost was building.

By the time I realized my marriage was starting to crumble, the damage was already done.

We thought getting started was the hard part. It wasn’t. The next chapter would test us in ways we never expected.