Creating JPJG forces me to learn a lot of things.
Creating products. Looking for suppliers. Being demanding of myself because I want to be consistent between how I experience the world of golf and what I want to offer.
Building a brand. Exploring the possibilities. Making choices. Making mistakes. Starting over.
And then there’s the business side.
This is probably one of the most difficult parts for me.
I’m autistic.
I’m not writing this to make people cry into their handkerchiefs, nor to ask anyone to be more lenient with me or with JPJG.
I’m writing this simply because it’s a reality. Because I also think things need to be said, especially when you live with an invisible disability.
And perhaps also because over-adapting myself took a great deal of effort for too long.
“You have to follow up.”
In business, you often hear that you have to follow up.
Once.
Twice.
Five times if necessary.
That a lack of response doesn’t mean no. That the prospect is busy. That I need to get back in touch. To remind them of my existence.
I understand it intellectually.
But for me, it’s much more complicated to put into practice.
When I send someone a message and that person doesn’t reply, well, I respect their silence.
Maybe she isn’t interested.
Maybe she doesn’t want to respond.
Maybe she’s simply very busy.
I don’t know.
And that’s precisely it: I don’t know.
So following up again and again makes me feel intrusive.
What is apparently considered perfectly normal persistence in a business relationship is, for me, a much more difficult boundary to understand.
The unspoken, that famous unspoken element
A large part of business relationships is based on something that is never truly expressed.
The unspoken.
“That’s interesting” may mean: I’m genuinely interested.
But it can also mean: Thanks, but no thanks.
“Get back to me” may mean: Call me back in two weeks.
Or simply be a polite way to end a conversation.
Silence may mean no.
Or maybe.
Or maybe not now.
Or simply: I did not have time to answer.
And an enthusiasm that I think I perceive may sometimes be nothing more than a polite way of not abruptly closing a door.
For many people, these nuances seem natural.
For me, they are not always.
I like words when they mean what they say.
In business, that is not always the case.
And it takes a considerable amount of energy to try to understand what the other person actually meant to express.
And then there is the telephone.
There is also something very concrete.
I almost never answer a number I do not recognize spontaneously.
It is not contempt.
It is not a lack of interest.
And it is certainly not because I consider my time more valuable than the time of the person calling me.
It is simply a real challenge for me.
An unexpected call immediately imposes an interaction in which I know neither the person calling, nor the subject, nor the context.
I have not had time to mentally prepare for the conversation.
So, it is true, most of the time I do not answer.
On the other hand, if you leave me a message or write a few words explaining why you would like to speak with me, things become much simpler.
I can understand the context.
Prepare myself.
And call you back.
It probably seems trivial to many people.
For me, that changes a great deal.
I will probably never make cold calls.
There are entrepreneurs capable of taking a list of fifty prospects and making fifty calls.
I almost admire them.
But I know today that I will probably never be one of them.
Picking up my phone and calling someone I do not know to sell them something is a considerable difficulty for me.
So I have to find another way to make JPJG known.
Write.
Tell.
Meet people when I am not faced with too many people at once.
Show.
Explain.
Explain why I created a piece.
Message someone when I sincerely think there could be something to build together.
And also accepting that this way of doing things will probably be slower.
That does not mean I do not know how to build a relationship
That may even be the paradox.
I can have great difficulty entering into a business relationship.
But when the relationship truly exists, things become very different.
I like understanding people.
I like listening to their needs when they express them clearly.
I like imagining a solution.
I like keeping my commitments.
And I place enormous importance on the trust people give me.
They may not be the qualities traditionally associated with the salesperson who knocks on doors.
But these are also business qualities.
Simply different.
So JPJG may grow differently
I am gradually discovering that creating a company as an Asperger’s person also means accepting that you do not necessarily have to take every path recommended by books on entrepreneurship.
I will probably follow up.
I should be able to manage it, leaving some time between follow-ups.
But probably not five times.
I will contact people.
But I will always try not to impose myself.
I will probably prefer a written message to an improvised phone call for a long time.
And I will probably never become the kind of founder who can call a hundred golf courses to place his products.
This may make JPJG’s development more difficult.
Perhaps more slowly.
But I would rather try to build this Maison in a way that reflects who I am than become, in order to grow it, someone I am not.
I am not asking anyone to buy JPJG for that reason.
Absolutely not.
A JPJG product should be purchased because you find it beautiful, because you love what it tells, because you identify with its world, or simply because you want to wear it.
My Asperger’s is neither a sales pitch nor a story intended to elicit compassion.
It is simply one part of the person behind this young Maison.
And sometimes, explaining who we are also helps us better understand why we do things differently.