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As an entrepreneur in my field, I realized once you’ve built your business, there is a next step. This important step is to maintain what you’ve built with the same passion, strength, and faith that it took to build it. If you don’t learn this very important lesson, you will not be able to keep your business successful. Most people think if they created a business, put it on the market and have thrived with it, the work load can be lessened and they can relax. This could not be further from the truth. If you don’t maintain the quality of your business with the same standards that you worked so hard when you opened it, your business will not survive. So building a business is like climbing Mount Everest. Maintaining a business is the magic formula to success.

 

 

 

32

 

It was around 4 p.m. on a Tuesday in early March when the phone rang in our Rocky River office. I was out and about, travelling between different locations. One of my employees, our bookkeeper, answered the phone.

 

“Hello,” she said. “Le Chaperon Rouge. May I help you?”

 

“Hello,” a female voice said, not identifying herself. “We are looking for Ms. Stella Moga.”

 

“She is not here right now,” she replied. “Can I take a message for her?”

 

“Yes. We would like to invite Ms. Moga to join the President on stage tomorrow morning.”

 

There was a slight pause before she asked, “President of what?”

 

“President of the United States,” the woman said.

 

My bookkeeper scoffed. “Ms. Moga doesn’t have time for jokes,” she said, then hung up the phone.

 

Less than a minute later the phone rang again.

 

“Hello,” my bookkeeper said. “Le Chaperon Rouge. May I help you?”

 

“Miss,” the woman said. “This is not a joke. This is real.”

 

While my employee sat stunned for a moment, the woman reeled off a telephone number in Washington, D.C.

 

“Please give Ms. Moga this phone number to call as soon as possible,” the woman said. “We need her full name and social security number so that we can get her clearance to appear on stage with President Bush tomorrow morning.”

 

And then she hung up. For a few minutes, my staff member sat there in a panic. And then she proceeded to tracked me down and recount the entire conversation. When she was finished, she said, “I’m so sorry, Ms. Moga. I thought it was a joke.”

 

“That’s OK,” I said. “How could you have known?”

 

After getting the message, I sat there wondering exactly what was going on. And then I called the number the woman in D.C. has provided.

 

“Thank you for returning our call, Ms. Moga,” the woman said. “We would like to invite you to site on the stage tomorrow morning with the President.”

 

She asked for several pieces of personal information so that the Secret Service could clear me for the appearance then said, “You’ll need to be there at 7:30 a.m.”

 

“It would nice if I had more notice,” I said. “I have a full day of meetings.”

 

“Ms. Moga, do you want to sit with the President on stage or not?” she said.

 

“Of course.”

 

“Then be there no later than 7:30 a.m.,” she said, and hung up.

 

I quickly called all my appointments for Wednesday and cancelled them.

 

The next morning, on Wednesday, March 10, I woke up early and got dressed. I arrived at the Cleveland Convention Center for the Women’s Entrepreneurship in the 21st Century Summit a little before 7:30 a.m. and found a long line of people waiting to get in.

 

After my phone call with the woman in Washington I called around to find out what exactly the event I was invited to was about. It turned out to be a summit for women entrepreneurs, and more than 1,000 women were expected to attend. The President was coming to speak with a key constituent group – women – as part of his re-election campaign.

 

So I became aggravated when I saw the line. I hadn’t solicited the President to appear with him. I hadn’t signed up for this event. And quite frankly, I didn’t have time to stand in this line when I was supposed to check in at 7:30 a.m. to sit on the stage. I began looking around for event organizers. Instead, I found a couple of Secret Service agents. They were busy guiding people in and searching purses and bags.

 

I walked up to one gentleman wearing a dark suit and sunglasses, just like in the movies, and said, “I can’t stand in this line. I was invited by the President to sit on the stage. Where can I go check in?”

 

He didn’t miss a beat. “What is your name?” he asked.

 

I told him. He checked a sheet he had and said, “Ms. Moga, come in on please.”

 

I was ushered into a large room filled with women and news reporters everywhere. A man directed me to the stage, where there were many tables seats set up astride the podium. In reality, it didn’t seem as special as it sounded but it still was very flattering to be invited to be up there. There were more than 1,000 people and only a handful up on the stage.

 

I took my seat at an assigned table and began listening to the speakers, successful women from all over the country. The President was supposed to speak at 10 a.m.; he didn’t arrive until noon. Instead, we heard more speeches – mostly prepared – from successful female entrepreneurs and other women who held powerful positions at large companies.

 

After about an hour, I looked around my table and said to the other women there, “Do you feel how I feel? These ladies are wasting our time. These are mothers and grandmothers who left their businesses to attend this and hear something meaningful. And guess what, they didn’t say anything meaningful.”

 

I raised my hand and said, “Excuse me. Can I have your microphone for a second?”

 

At first, the woman at the podium didn’t understand me. She continued her speech.

 

I repeated myself and asked if I could use the microphone.

 

Finally, the woman said, “Yes, of course. You have a question?”

 

I stood up and took the microphone. “Thank you,” I said. “I’m very sorry to interrupt your presentation, but all these people here – mothers and wives and grandmothers of America – they have questions. We have questions. We need answers. You talk with no substance. We have questions for you and the President.”

 

And then I launched into a series of questions, like a Russian machine gun. “What about education? What about so many children in classrooms? What about terrorism? What about people taking our factories and our industries abroad? And what about not having jobs?”

 

The audience applauded.

 

The woman – I can’t remember her name – began answering some of the questions. And then she opened the discussion up to other women in the audience who continued to ask questions.

 

I looked around. It seemed like the women on stage, including those who were sitting at my table, were glaring at me with either hatred or disdain in their eyes. But the women in the audience, at least those I could see clearly from the stage, were smiling at me. I looked back at my table and their glares. I didn’t care. The questions needed to be asked.

 

Finally, around noon the President arrived.

 

He shook hands with all of the women on stage before approaching the podium. He was smiling and laughing. I wasn’t that impressed with him. I thought I would be but I wasn’t. You would think that when a person like the President of the United States came and you shook hands with him that you would feel amazing. But I didn’t feel that way at all. He didn’t have that presence I had expected. He was just a man, and I treated him as such.

 

Once he reached the podium, a member of the Secret Service came over to our table, leaned close to me and said, “Miss, if you say a word or move during the President’s speech, we’ll take you out.”

 

I felt like I was in communism. If those people hadn’t stood by me and made sure I didn’t speak, I would have. And when the President began to speak, he confirmed my ambivalent feeling.

 

“There are people who doubt our ability to compete,” the president said. “There are economic isolationists who surrender and wall us off. It's bad for the economy, bad for consumers. It's bad for workers. We'll prove the pessimists wrong again.”

 

It sounded like a typical stump speech. “I know there are workers here concerned about jobs goings overseas,” he said, looking over at me. “I understand that.”

 

Then the president publicly acknowledged that Ohio's unemployment rate, 6.2 percent, was higher than the national average, which was 5.6 percent, and argued against trade barriers and higher taxes.

 

“They don't explain how closing off markets, closing off markets abroad, would help the millions of Americans who produce goods for export, or work for foreign companies right here in the United States,” he said, adding that new jobs were on the horizon. “Economic isolation would lead to retaliation from abroad, and put many of those jobs at risk.”

 

When the President was done the crowd gave him warm applause. I didn’t bother. I also didn’t stick around once we were allowed to leave.

 

Ironically, later that year I was named the Ohio Republication of the Year for 2004. It certainly didn’t come about from my appearance with the President that day. And so, in late May 2005, after the President had been re-elected, I was invited to Washington, D.C., with the other 2004 Republicans of the Year.

 

It was a good opportunity, not just to go to D.C. and have dinner with President Bush and his wife but also to meet with senators and congressmen to talk about all the issues with education and daycare centers in America that had been bothering me for years.Add a captionAs an entrepreneur in my field, I realized once you’ve built your business, there is a next step. This important step is to maintain what you’ve built with the same passion, strength, and faith that it took to build it. If you don’t learn this very important lesson, you will not be able to keep your business successful. Most people think if they created a business, put it on the market and have thrived with it, the work load can be lessened and they can relax. This could not be further from the truth. If you don’t maintain the quality of your business with the same standards that you worked so hard when you opened it, your business will not survive. So building a business is like climbing Mount Everest. Maintaining a business is the magic formula to success.

 

 

 

32

 

It was around 4 p.m. on a Tuesday in early March when the phone rang in our Rocky River office. I was out and about, travelling between different locations. One of my employees, our bookkeeper, answered the phone.

 

“Hello,” she said. “Le Chaperon Rouge. May I help you?”

 

“Hello,” a female voice said, not identifying herself. “We are looking for Ms. Stella Moga.”

 

“She is not here right now,” she replied. “Can I take a message for her?”

 

“Yes. We would like to invite Ms. Moga to join the President on stage tomorrow morning.”

 

There was a slight pause before she asked, “President of what?”

 

“President of the United States,” the woman said.

 

My bookkeeper scoffed. “Ms. Moga doesn’t have time for jokes,” she said, then hung up the phone.

 

Less than a minute later the phone rang again.

 

“Hello,” my bookkeeper said. “Le Chaperon Rouge. May I help you?”

 

“Miss,” the woman said. “This is not a joke. This is real.”

 

While my employee sat stunned for a moment, the woman reeled off a telephone number in Washington, D.C.

 

“Please give Ms. Moga this phone number to call as soon as possible,” the woman said. “We need her full name and social security number so that we can get her clearance to appear on stage with President Bush tomorrow morning.”

 

And then she hung up. For a few minutes, my staff member sat there in a panic. And then she proceeded to tracked me down and recount the entire conversation. When she was finished, she said, “I’m so sorry, Ms. Moga. I thought it was a joke.”

 

“That’s OK,” I said. “How could you have known?”

 

After getting the message, I sat there wondering exactly what was going on. And then I called the number the woman in D.C. has provided.

 

“Thank you for returning our call, Ms. Moga,” the woman said. “We would like to invite you to site on the stage tomorrow morning with the President.”

 

She asked for several pieces of personal information so that the Secret Service could clear me for the appearance then said, “You’ll need to be there at 7:30 a.m.”

 

“It would nice if I had more notice,” I said. “I have a full day of meetings.”

 

“Ms. Moga, do you want to sit with the President on stage or not?” she said.

 

“Of course.”

 

“Then be there no later than 7:30 a.m.,” she said, and hung up.

 

I quickly called all my appointments for Wednesday and cancelled them.

 

The next morning, on Wednesday, March 10, I woke up early and got dressed. I arrived at the Cleveland Convention Center for the Women’s Entrepreneurship in the 21st Century Summit a little before 7:30 a.m. and found a long line of people waiting to get in.

 

After my phone call with the woman in Washington I called around to find out what exactly the event I was invited to was about. It turned out to be a summit for women entrepreneurs, and more than 1,000 women were expected to attend. The President was coming to speak with a key constituent group – women – as part of his re-election campaign.

 

So I became aggravated when I saw the line. I hadn’t solicited the President to appear with him. I hadn’t signed up for this event. And quite frankly, I didn’t have time to stand in this line when I was supposed to check in at 7:30 a.m. to sit on the stage. I began looking around for event organizers. Instead, I found a couple of Secret Service agents. They were busy guiding people in and searching purses and bags.

 

I walked up to one gentleman wearing a dark suit and sunglasses, just like in the movies, and said, “I can’t stand in this line. I was invited by the President to sit on the stage. Where can I go check in?”

 

He didn’t miss a beat. “What is your name?” he asked.

 

I told him. He checked a sheet he had and said, “Ms. Moga, come in on please.”

 

I was ushered into a large room filled with women and news reporters everywhere. A man directed me to the stage, where there were many tables seats set up astride the podium. In reality, it didn’t seem as special as it sounded but it still was very flattering to be invited to be up there. There were more than 1,000 people and only a handful up on the stage.

 

I took my seat at an assigned table and began listening to the speakers, successful women from all over the country. The President was supposed to speak at 10 a.m.; he didn’t arrive until noon. Instead, we heard more speeches – mostly prepared – from successful female entrepreneurs and other women who held powerful positions at large companies.

 

After about an hour, I looked around my table and said to the other women there, “Do you feel how I feel? These ladies are wasting our time. These are mothers and grandmothers who left their businesses to attend this and hear something meaningful. And guess what, they didn’t say anything meaningful.”

 

I raised my hand and said, “Excuse me. Can I have your microphone for a second?”

 

At first, the woman at the podium didn’t understand me. She continued her speech.

 

I repeated myself and asked if I could use the microphone.

 

Finally, the woman said, “Yes, of course. You have a question?”

 

I stood up and took the microphone. “Thank you,” I said. “I’m very sorry to interrupt your presentation, but all these people here – mothers and wives and grandmothers of America – they have questions. We have questions. We need answers. You talk with no substance. We have questions for you and the President.”

 

And then I launched into a series of questions, like a Russian machine gun. “What about education? What about so many children in classrooms? What about terrorism? What about people taking our factories and our industries abroad? And what about not having jobs?”

 

The audience applauded.

 

The woman – I can’t remember her name – began answering some of the questions. And then she opened the discussion up to other women in the audience who continued to ask questions.

 

I looked around. It seemed like the women on stage, including those who were sitting at my table, were glaring at me with either hatred or disdain in their eyes. But the women in the audience, at least those I could see clearly from the stage, were smiling at me. I looked back at my table and their glares. I didn’t care. The questions needed to be asked.

 

Finally, around noon the President arrived.

 

He shook hands with all of the women on stage before approaching the podium. He was smiling and laughing. I wasn’t that impressed with him. I thought I would be but I wasn’t. You would think that when a person like the President of the United States came and you shook hands with him that you would feel amazing. But I didn’t feel that way at all. He didn’t have that presence I had expected. He was just a man, and I treated him as such.

 

Once he reached the podium, a member of the Secret Service came over to our table, leaned close to me and said, “Miss, if you say a word or move during the President’s speech, we’ll take you out.”

 

I felt like I was in communism. If those people hadn’t stood by me and made sure I didn’t speak, I would have. And when the President began to speak, he confirmed my ambivalent feeling.

 

“There are people who doubt our ability to compete,” the president said. “There are economic isolationists who surrender and wall us off. It's bad for the economy, bad for consumers. It's bad for workers. We'll prove the pessimists wrong again.”

 

It sounded like a typical stump speech. “I know there are workers here concerned about jobs goings overseas,” he said, looking over at me. “I understand that.”

 

Then the president publicly acknowledged that Ohio's unemployment rate, 6.2 percent, was higher than the national average, which was 5.6 percent, and argued against trade barriers and higher taxes.

 

“They don't explain how closing off markets, closing off markets abroad, would help the millions of Americans who produce goods for export, or work for foreign companies right here in the United States,” he said, adding that new jobs were on the horizon. “Economic isolation would lead to retaliation from abroad, and put many of those jobs at risk.”

 

When the President was done the crowd gave him warm applause. I didn’t bother. I also didn’t stick around once we were allowed to leave.

 

Ironically, later that year I was named the Ohio Republication of the Year for 2004. It certainly didn’t come about from my appearance with the President that day. And so, in late May 2005, after the President had been re-elected, I was invited to Washington, D.C., with the other 2004 Republicans of the Year.

 

It was a good opportunity, not just to go to D.C. and have dinner with President Bush and his wife but also to meet with senators and congressmen to talk about all the issues with education and daycare centers in America that had been bothering me for years.

Done