What I Wish I Knew Before Starting My First Business

Starting a business sounds glamorous - the independence, the potential for big wins, the chance to build something from nothing. But when I launched my first venture in Lagos five years ago, a small online store selling affordable gadgets imported from China, reality hit hard. I had saved up some money from my banking job, quit to go full-time, and dreamed of scaling to multiple outlets across Nigeria. Within six months, I was scrambling to pay suppliers while dodging calls from angry customers. Looking back, here are the harsh truths I wish someone had hammered into me before I jumped in.

Cash flow is your real boss

Ideas are cheap; keeping the lights on isn't. I thought my edge was sourcing cheap earphones and phone cases that undercut big retailers like Jumia. Customers loved the prices, orders poured in. But I got cocky and placed a massive order with a new supplier promising even lower costs. The shipment arrived late, custom duties ate into my margins, and suddenly I had inventory but no cash to restock bestsellers. Bills piled up - rent for the small shop in Ikeja, generator fuel during NEPA blackouts, even my cousin's salary whom I'd hired as a packer.

Most new businesses in Nigeria don't die from bad products; they starve from cash shortages. Banks won't lend without collateral, and venture capital is a myth for solopreneurs like I was. I learned to track every naira obsessively. Now, I run a simple rule: always have enough cash for three months of lean operations. Before big spends, ask if it keeps cash moving, not just growing inventory.

Customers don't care about your passion

I poured my heart into that store because I hated overpriced tech in Nigeria. Late nights researching trends, haggling with Alaba market contacts, designing flyers. But customers? They wanted fast delivery, working products, and easy returns - not my backstory. Early on, a batch of chargers overheated, frying phones. Complaints flooded WhatsApp, reviews tanked, sales dried up. I fixed it eventually, but lost months rebuilding trust.

Passion blinds you to what people actually pay for. Talk to potential buyers before spending a kobo. In my case, I should have run a small test on Jiji or Instagram, shipping just 50 units to see real demand. Nigerian buyers are savvy - they've got options from street hawkers to Konga. Solve a pain point like quick delivery in traffic-clogged Lagos or bundles that beat data costs, and they'll stick. Forget perfection; ship something good and iterate based on feedback.

Family and friends aren't your first investors

Everyone advised bootstrapping with loved ones. My uncle in Abuja wired 500k naira, my sister co-signed a shop lease. But when sales dipped, expectations soured fast. 'I told you banking was safer,' became the chorus at family owambe. Pressure mounted to pivot to 'safer' ideas like pure water production.

Money from family mixes love with business in ways that complicate everything. Expectations clash, favors get called in awkwardly. I repaid my uncle first, even before suppliers, to preserve relationships. Today, I'd seek out fellow hustlers - join Lagos entrepreneur WhatsApp groups or attend events at CcHUB. Pitch to strangers who understand risk, not relatives dreaming of quick returns. And always formalize with agreements, no matter how small.

Regulations sneak up and bite

Nigeria's bureaucracy is a silent killer. I registered with CAC eventually, but ignored taxes early on. FIRS notices arrived like debt collectors, demanding back VAT on imports. Then came LIRS for state levies. One audit nearly shut me down. Add NAFDAC if you're in food, or SON for standards - it's endless.

Newbies think 'small business, no wahala.' Wrong. Get compliant from day one: CAC for legitimacy, open a business account, track receipts. Use free tools like Wave for accounting. It builds credibility for bigger loans later. In Nigeria, where trust is low, papers open doors - from supplier credit to mall leases.

Failure is the best teacher, but it hurts

My gadget store folded after 18 months. I sold off stock at loss, licked wounds, and started afresh with a service-based gig fixing laptops from a home setup. That one scaled because I applied scars from the first: lean inventory, customer chats daily, cash-first mindset. Every successful Nigerian entrepreneur I know - from Flutterwave founders to local tailors in Balogun - bombed first.

Embrace the grind. Hustle side by side with a job if possible. Save six months' living expenses. Network relentlessly - that chance chat at a filling station birthed my current partnerships. And celebrate small wins, like your first repeat customer phoning to reorder.

If I could whisper to my younger self, it'd be this: business isn't a sprint to riches; it's a marathon of solving problems profitably. Start tiny, learn fast, stay broke-proof. Test one idea with minimal cash, talk to 20 strangers about their pains, track every expense like your life depends on it. Build relationships over revenue first. Nigeria's market is tough - inflation, forex wahala, power issues - but it's also full of opportunity for those who adapt. Your first business might fail, but the grit it builds? That's the real capital.