I am by most of our society’s definitions an entrepreneur although I have never been comfortable with that word. It sounds far too romantic for what the owner of a small business does. Sure, some people begin by dreaming of an idea and planning it carefully. But mostly we fall into our businesses by circumstance. We then scrape, claw, and beg for money from our families and friends to get our businesses going. Once we get started, we work day and night to build a product and sell it to customers. If we are lucky, someone buys what we are selling at a profit, and we can make a living. If we are very lucky, maybe, just maybe, someone buys our business someday and we have an additional payday. But most of the time, we go through every day working hard to keep our customers happy, to make our businesses profitable, and to support our families.

If I wanted to hold a regular job I would. But after enjoying an initial successful career with IBM, I haven’t had a job working for someone else since 1991. Something that drives me inside wants to see my ideas succeed or fail. I have never been much of a follower although I like to learn. I don’t take well to authority but I do like rules.

The reader should make no mistake; it is easier and in the long run more profitable to get a job than to start your own business. If you want to have your own business for the money, then forget it: go get a job. That motivation will never sustain you through the ups and downs of starting and building your business. Entrepreneurs start businesses because, like an actor’s dreams of stardom, they have no choice. Passion and energy drive them on the good days and sustain them on the bad ones.

I started my career as a political science graduate from Brandeis University in 1981. Three days before I graduated from college, IBM offered me a job in Chicago that was 1,000 miles from home. It paid $18,900. A recession was going on. I had nothing to do on the Monday after graduation. I cut my hair, shaved my beard, got a blue suit and white shirt, and took the job. Two weeks later, I moved to Chicago and started my career at Big Blue. I loved it. I had a new group of friends, a studio apartment on the lake, two suits, and money in my pocket. IBM taught me about computers, how to sell, and how to be a good corporate citizen. For the next nine years, I succeeded at most of the things IBM asked me to do, and was promoted almost every year. I met my future wife in 1988 and told her I would be president of IBM someday. How did she feel about living in Armonk, New York, where the company headquarters was located? I was climbing the corporate ladder of success just like I thought I would.

What this experience did not prepare me for was my step out of the corporate world and into the new world of small business. One of my IBM customers at the time was a small, growing consulting firm, Whittman-Hart. One of its founders, Bob Bernard, would later go on in the 1990s (without me) to build a billion-dollar public firm called MarchFirst. Bob introduced me to the fast-paced exciting world of small business. After nine years at IBM, I was looking for more responsibility and less structure.

At about the same time, I had read Paul Hawken’s book, Growing a Business, and it captivated my attention. I had previously started a small business selling advertising for a directory we called Yes, We Deliver. In these pre-Internet days of 1988, there was no good way to find all the places that delivered. I created one with my friends and girlfriend. I worked hard on this part-time while at IBM, but after a year, we closed it. Still, I had been bitten by the entrepreneur’s bug.

So I left IBM in 1990 to become Director of Sales for Whittman-Hart. I traded in my blue suits for top designer Hugo Boss clothes and collected my six-figure paycheck. My new office had a high-back green leather chair, teak furniture, and a laser jet printer, and I had my own private assistant, Denise.

I dove into the shallow end of small business and belly flopped. After having spent nine years at IBM, I lasted only a year at Whittman-Hart before I was fired in 1991. I was ill-prepared for the fast-paced, cutthroat environment of a much smaller organization. The company, inside and outside, seemed to have no rules. It certainly had no 75-year-old guidelines to follow.

The company was run firmly by Bob Bernard, who was now its sole remaining founder as well as president and CEO. This was really the first time I saw how the owner’s decisions and style influenced everything about life on a daily basis inside and outside the company. Bob had a great sense of fashion. I heard at the time he owned 40 or more suits. It was a fashion show at the office every day, with men dressing better than the women. We all wanted to show off our new Hugo Boss ties and Giorgio Armani suits. I was thankful to Bob for my new wardrobe. Even today I think of him when I can still dress up in style.

So during the recession of 1991, I was booted out the door to begin my entrepreneurial adventures. Over the next ten years, I experienced most of what can happen by having your own company. In my second business, I was kicked out by my two partners. In my third business (luckily for my marriage ’s sake), I sold during the Internet bubble of 1999. I escaped my last business with my family life and financial well-being mostly intact. What I lost and gained along the way is the tale I am telling.

From “You Need to Be A Little Crazy: The Truth About Starting and Growing Your Business” Excerpted with permission from Dearborn Trade Publishing