You know what that means?

It means yesterday was St. Patrick’s Day.

And here in Ireland that’s A Big Deal, and I bet there’s not a single town in the State where they don’t mark it with a parade or piss-up of some kind of other.

More: because yesterday was also a Sunday, today is a Bank Holiday, meaning the revellers get the next day off.

The upshot?

A goodly proportion of the country will wake up with hangovers of epic and perhaps even heroic proportions.

But not this bunny. 

This annoyingly self-righteous bunny drinks only at Elite and Extreme these days and spent most of yesterday walking in the sunshine and reading. I didn’t even get to my 7-days-a-week 0600 routine (I do go back to bed on Sundays for a lie-in, but I still get up to meditate and do a couple of hours' work, first).

Thing is, for some people hangovers are normal. They drink so much and so often feeling shit is just how they feel. I’ve even experienced this myself when I’ve got into the habit of drinking a bottle of wine most nights for fairly long periods of time — it’s not enough to give me a proper hangover, but there’s no doubt I’ve had it when I wake up the next morning. It doesn’t take long before that thickness of head and fuzziness of thought becomes the norm.

Old friend of mine, Toby — well, more an old acquaintance and a friend of a friend — is a well-pickled alcoholic. He starts his days at 0600 by opening a bottle of vodka. By 0900, it’s gone, and he spends the rest of the day polishing off another two.

I can but imagine how spectacularly ill he must feel when he wakes on the floor of his coffee shop at six the next morning (and can easily understand why his first act is to reach for a fresh bottle… sometimes, a hair of the dog is the only answer).

But he’s probably used to it by now.

The mind, she doth boggle.

Newsflash: chances are your business is suffering from the same kind of omnipresent hangover Toby is. 

The constant struggle, the feast-and-famine, the endless and frustrating procession of crap clients, tough months, and low-quality leads are almost de rigueur, a badge of honour, something for you to huff and puff about as you pull your stool up to the bar for a good old-fashioned pissing-and-moaning session with your mates.

You’ve probably forgotten what it feels like not to have that shit to gripe about; fuck, you probably never, ever experienced anything else because it’s been like that since Day One and euphoria of running your own business masked the pain of the hangover.

You don’t know what you’re missing.

You don’t even imagine there’s a different way.

But there is.

And that’s what Connor and I are gonna share with you in the Ground Zero initiative.

Bottom line: it’s gonna happen regardless of whether you, personally, join us or not.

The only choice you have is whether you’ll be on the inside looking out or on the outside looking in through the existential miasma you don’t even know you’re in.

Click here for Ground Zero details.

Witheringly,

​P.S. Same guy spent £12,000 on 30-days’ rehab…

… then came out of the clinic and celebrated with a litre and a half of vodka.

You couldn’t make the fucker up, could you?

Still… we all get to make our own choices, and we’re free to choose whatever we like.

But what we’re not free to do is avoid the consequences of our choices.

He’s likely destined for an early grave (profoundly sad since he’s not yet turned 40).

How about your business?

Where’s that headed?

Do you know?

Do you care?

And if you do, what are you doing to keep it going in the right direction?

If you reckon now’s the time to take control, you know what to do:

Click here for Ground Zero details.