I didn't find a mentor, follow a framework or read the right business book. At 30, I was handed a failing business with 6 weeks of cash left and millions in debt. People told me to sell, but I knew it was my legacy. Here's my story.
My father built Nitschke Real Estate in the Adelaide Hills over decades. He was good at it: genuinely good. He knew the market, knew the people, knew how to close. The business had a name that meant something in the Hills.
When he was diagnosed with terminal cancer, there was no succession plan. No handover. No conversation about what happened next. He passed away at 57, and I found out days later that the business had six weeks of cash left and was millions of dollars in debt. I had no idea.
My mum had passed two years earlier at 55. By the time I was standing in that car park deciding whether to walk in or drive away, I'd already spent two years learning that grief doesn't wait for a convenient time.
I was 30. I had a sales background and no leadership experience. The choice was: walk away from what my father spent his life building, or step up.
The RebuildThe first year was about survival. I was managing the business, handling the finances, dealing with the fallout of the debt, and still selling. Generating revenue was the only thing keeping us alive. I focused on what I knew, worked harder than I'd worked at anything, and slowly the numbers started to move.
The second and third years were about stabilising. We started paying down the debt. I made some hires. Some of them were good. Some of them cost us. We began building systems instead of relying on instinct and goodwill.
By years four and five, it started to feel like a real business. We stopped losing listings to the big franchises. The Nitschke name started meaning something again. This time on my terms, not just my dad's.
Eight years in, the business is real. The team is strong. The numbers are where they need to be. And I am exactly the problem I set out to solve.
The Problem I'm Working OnMy dad couldn't delegate. Couldn't let go. The business was him: his name, his relationships, his presence. When he died, it nearly died with him because nothing worked without him in the middle of it.
I spent eight years rebuilding. And I rebuilt it the same way. I am still the best salesperson. I am still the person everyone calls. I am still the one the business runs through. I built the machine. And then made myself the engine.
I'm 38. My mum died at 55. My dad at 57. I have a wife and two daughters. Health and family come first for me, imperfectly but deliberately. The work now is building something that doesn't require me to compromise on either.
"I want to build something that outlasts me, and actually be present for the life I'm building while I'm still in it."
This is not a polished business case study. There's no transformation arc where everything clicked and I'm now on the other side, selling the method. I'm still in it. The problem is still real.
What I'm doing is putting it on the record. The real decisions. The real numbers, where I can share them. The real cost of building a business around yourself, and what it actually takes to change it.
There's a book about the first years of rebuilding. A weekly email, Leadership Letters, covering what's happening now. And a small number of one-on-one coaching sessions each month for business owners working through the same things.
If any of that sounds useful, you're in the right place. Start with the letters. They're free, and they're the most honest thing I put out.