Robert Tighe

When you’re born you’re given a deck of cards to play with. Some people are dealt a great hand and f**k it up; some people are able to make something out of a shit hand. We all get dealt different cards and some of us are luckier than others. The thing is there’s no blueprint for success and this is not a self-help book.

Everyone’s got to live their own life, make the most of the cards they’re dealt and write their own story.

One of the gifts I was born with was the gift of the gab. I’m sure that comes from my grandfather, Paddy Quinn. He was Irish and a great man for the blarney. A tough man with a temper like you wouldn’t believe, he always said to me, ‘If you’re going to tell a story, make it a good one.’

My life and my story have revolved around working hard, building good businesses, and racing fast cars. As well as the gift of the gab I was also born with some natural business skills. I’ve always expected to do well. I’ve always expected to be a winner. Most humans thrive on success and from an early age I was successful.

I’ve succeeded through a combination of hard work, good luck, common sense and my 2 + 2 = 7 theory. I think we waste so much time in school learning that 2 + 2 = 4 when, in actual fact, if you want to succeed in business the only thing you need to know is how to make 2 + 2 equal 7.

Here’s how it works: If 2 + 2 is the cost of your raw materials and other inputs and you sell your product for $4, you’ll go bankrupt very quickly. If you sell your product for $5, you’ll still go bankrupt, just more slowly because you’ll always have unexpected costs and things you don’t see coming. If you sell it for $6, your mum will be proud of you. You’ll be able to afford a holiday in Fiji or Hawai’i; you’ll drive a Volvo; own an investment property and a holiday home and you’ll live a good life. But if you want to make a lot of money, you should price your product at $8, give the customer a discount of $1 and sell it for $7. If you can figure out how to do that, the customer is happy, you’re happy and, more importantly, you’re making money.

If you’re not making money, you’re practising at running a business. I’ve never liked practising. I don’t practise in my race cars because I think it’s dangerous. If you spend too much time in practice mode, it makes you complacent.

Apart from making money there are two other business principles I believe in. The first is your brand. This is the only value your business has; the brand is what your customers believe in and it’s the reason they buy your product rather than your competitor’s. The second thing is you have to deliver. Whatever promise you make as a brand and as a businessman you’ve got to live up to your word. If you say you’re going to do something, do it, no matter what the obstacles in front of you.

When I’m not working, I like to race fast cars. Motorsport has been good to me and taught me a lot about life and business. To be successful in life you have to think positive, and in motorsport you’ll never win a race unless you’re truly convinced you can. Driving a race car is the ultimate escape from the pressures of running a big business. I love the speed, the look and the feel of a powerful race car, but most of all I love losing myself in a race for a couple of hours. Your house could have burned down, your horse might have bolted, or your hair might have fallen out, but once you’re strapped into a race car with a helmet on, nothing else matters. Your sole focus is on going faster.

It helps that when I was in my prime, I was competitive. I was never an embarrassment on the racetrack. I won my fair share of trophies but I could never have made a living as a race-car driver.

I come from the school of tough love and sometimes I’m direct to the point of bluntness. I’ve been told I put the fear of God into some people, but I don’t know why because I’m just a wee Scotsman. It is true that I never sugar-coat what I have to say and when I’m talking I expect people to listen carefully. If I think my plan is better — no matter who I’m talking to — people soon discover how hell-bent I can be to make things happen.

I’ve probably done some things in the past that have annoyed the hell out of the people who work for me. I’ve had some run-ins with my workers and gone toe to toe with some big, solid-looking blokes, but I’ve never been punched in the nose. I think people recognise determination in another person and if you mean what you say, even if you’re only a half-pint like me, there’s a certain amount of respect afforded to you.

I don’t know what people say about me behind my back and I don’t care. The people who know me well, know what I’m like. Some people who don’t know me might think I’m a wanker and this book may not change their minds. The woke generation might be offended by some of the language and stories in this book. Hell, I might even offend some of the anti-woke crowd. I’m okay with that, I didn’t write it for them. I wrote it to try to make sense of my journey, so read on at your peril.