What I Learned About Entrepreneurship After 40 Years in Business

The True Purpose of the Entrepreneur

Ever since I was 16 years old, I felt that I wanted to become an entrepreneur. Of course, back then my idea of what an entrepreneur was very simple: buy products cheaply and sell them at a higher price. In the 1970s, people rarely talked about entrepreneurship. They talked about business, merchants, and businessmen.

Later, I studied Electronic Engineering and began developing more sophisticated ideas. I wanted to build computers and sell them, especially because personal computers were just beginning to emerge as a major trend. It was no longer simply about buying low and selling high. I wanted to create something, manufacture something. And like many young people in their twenties, I dreamed of having my own brand. Even better if that brand carried my name or initials. Perhaps that is why so many companies from that era were named after their founders: Hewlett-Packard, Burroughs, and many others.

I managed to set up a small factory in my mother's basement, where I manufactured surge protectors and power strips for the first generation of personal computers.

That is how I started my first formal business. I sold personal computers and peripheral equipment, and eventually became a distributor for brands such as Franklin and Commodore, which I imported from the United States.

Those experiences, combined with the enthusiasm and optimism of youth, began to shape my vision of what a company should be.

However, failure soon arrived.

And it was through those failures that I conducted one of my first serious exercises in self-reflection. I concluded that one of the reasons for my setbacks was my inability to properly manage cash flow. That realization led me to pursue an MBA.

Later, through a series of unexpected circumstances, I started a direct marketing agency in 1991, what today would be called a call center, along with a mailing house operation.

That was where I truly learned the secret of being an entrepreneur.

Not only did we grow the agency until it became the thirteenth-largest agency in Mexico, employing more than 350 people. More importantly, I discovered something far more meaningful: helping people develop themselves.

I learned how to become a genuine leader.

For fourteen years, we did more than simply pay competitive salaries. Our suppliers recognized us as a reliable and valuable client. My family became actively involved in nonprofit organizations, contributing not only financial resources but, more importantly, our time.

My wife organized Children's Day festivals in schools located in some of the poorest communities. She coordinated every detail, gathered toys, organized games and activities, and ensured that the children enjoyed a special day. At the end of each event, every child received a gift.

In other words, it was never just about my family.

It was about our employees.

It was about our clients.

It was about our suppliers.

And it was also about the society to which we belonged.

That experience is precisely what motivates me to write this article.

Because today, I rarely see that mindset among many entrepreneurs. Instead, I see people focused almost exclusively on their own wealth and personal well-being. They pay employees whatever the market dictates and leave it at that. And helping society? In the best-case scenario, they write a check to a nonprofit organization, often without really knowing where the money will ultimately go. If anything, they simply mail the check and hope it is tax-deductible.

This form of egocentrism has become deeply embedded in our culture.

When I speak with other entrepreneurs, the conversation almost always revolves around selling more, becoming more productive, increasing efficiency, and automating processes.

I rarely hear discussions about commitment to employees.

In fact, one entrepreneur once told me that he deliberately avoids becoming emotionally connected to his employees because he knows that someday he may have to lay them off, and therefore prefers not to develop a personal relationship with them.

But the worst part is not merely the social disconnection.

The worst part is the disconnection from the genuine pleasure of doing meaningful work.

When I ask entrepreneurs what they enjoy most about their business, they usually give the same rehearsed answers: "making my customers happy" or "helping my clients."

Rarely do I hear something authentic.

I almost never hear someone say:

"I love making quesadillas."

Or:

"I feel fulfilled when I prepare a client's tax return."

Or:

"I genuinely enjoy repairing machinery."

Today, owning a business often seems equivalent to owning an ATM machine. You simply withdraw money from it. If it becomes difficult or requires too much effort, you shut it down. Sometimes people walk away leaving debts and obligations behind.

I believe something different happens when you genuinely enjoy what you do, when you find satisfaction in the process itself.

For example, I love handling my clients' mail.

The part of my day that I enjoy the most is organizing their correspondence. It fulfills me. I do not care whether it takes one hour or two. I enjoy doing it.

And that passion becomes contagious.

In eighteen years, we have never had a significant complaint regarding our mail handling services. I have practically memorized USPS regulations because the subject genuinely fascinates me.

That is the kind of passion I rarely encounter today.

Instead, I see entrepreneurs eagerly waiting for Friday afternoon or counting the minutes until five o'clock.

Personally, I do not like Fridays.

It is the day when the least amount of mail arrives, and I know I will have to wait until Monday to see it again.

That leads me to an important question:

If we no longer have passion for the true spirit of business and only care about financial results, then who will do the work?

Who will enjoy the process?

Because if all of us care only about money, then who will perform the activities that actually create that money?

Artificial Intelligence may be capable of many things, but we must remain realistic.

It cannot fully replace the human experience.

It cannot replace the satisfaction of serving others.

It cannot replace the pride that comes from doing a job well.

And it cannot love a profession.

And if one day robots become capable of doing absolutely everything, then an inevitable question arises:

What will we be doing?

Watching?

Consuming?

Waiting for the next deposit to appear in our bank accounts?

I refuse to believe that this is the future we should aspire to.

And that is precisely why I believe the problem is not technological.

It is not Artificial Intelligence.

It is not robotics.

The problem is entirely human.

The reason we see entrepreneurs so obsessed with performance and outcomes is egocentrism.

And the ego must have limits.

Because when ego grows unchecked, even brilliant leaders can justify almost any behavior. That is when the dangerous idea that "the end justifies the means" begins to emerge.

And when a person dominated by ego accumulates power, a fundamental question arises:

Who will set the limits?

That is why we must recover trust, a value that has been profoundly devalued in modern society.

Business is built on trust.

When you hire an attorney, you place your trust in that person's expertise, believing that experience will help solve your legal problem. At the same time, the attorney trusts that you will pay for the services provided.

We are constantly trusting one another.

What has changed is that we increasingly transfer that trust to systems, platforms, and technologies. Even phenomena such as cryptocurrencies reflect this transfer of trust from traditional institutions to digital alternatives.

Yet trust remains, at its core, a human value.

It does not belong to technology.

It does not belong to algorithms.

It does not belong to machines.

It belongs to people.

And to strengthen it, we must practice it.

I remember once paying a taxi driver in advance to pick me up at five in the morning from a hotel in Monterrey and drive me to the airport. He accepted my trust and, in doing so, assumed the responsibility of fulfilling his commitment.

And he did.

I trusted a complete stranger.

Because if we do not practice trust, we will never strengthen it.

Trust grows when we choose to trust.

And as trust grows, the social fabric becomes stronger as well.

Society places enormous trust in entrepreneurs. It trusts them because they create jobs. Because they generate opportunities. Because they pay taxes. Because they contribute to economic development.

But that trust comes with responsibility.

Entrepreneurs should not see themselves merely as generators of personal wealth. They should understand themselves as social actors whose responsibilities extend to employees, customers, suppliers, and the communities in which they operate.

Conclusion

The true purpose of the entrepreneur is not to accumulate wealth.

Wealth is a consequence.

The real purpose is to create value, generate opportunities, strengthen human relationships, and contribute to the well-being of the society of which we are a part.

When an entrepreneur learns to control the ego, the company ceases to be merely a machine for making money and becomes a tool for building trust.

And trust is the invisible cement that holds society together.

We may develop more powerful Artificial Intelligence, more efficient robots, and increasingly sophisticated technologies, but none of them can replace the moral responsibility of a human being.

Because in the end, the entrepreneur's greatest challenge is not economic.

It is not technological.

It is human.

And until we understand that, we will continue searching for technical solutions to problems that actually originate in the hearts and character of people.