Vicki La Bouchardiere

03/09/2026

I'm about to say something that might annoy people on both sides of the age debate. Bear with me.

There's a lot of noise right now about hiring the over 50s. And I think there's something genuinely worth exploring there.

But here's what's nagging at me.

Young people already know they're short on experience. They already feel that pressure every time they apply for a job. The last thing any of us should be doing is adding to it by making them feel like the hiring world has written them off before they've started. It feels like the old are already afraid of the young when it comes to getting hired, and I really don't want to see it go the other way.

So let me be clear about what I'm not interested in. I am not here for the "Gen Z are all snowflakes and Gen Xers are built of sterner stuff" narrative. That's lazy, it's not useful, and it stops us actually solving the problem.

What I am interested in is what's really happening on the ground.

Because when you're a small business owner and a hire goes wrong, it's brutal. You've recruited, onboarded, trained, set up their email, bought the good biscuits for their first day. And then they're gone. And you're left wondering whether it was your fault and whether you should just do everything yourself forever.

So what IS going on?

Is it an onboarding problem? Small businesses aren't corporations. There's no graduate programme, no buddy system, no wellbeing app. Is the reality of the often very fast paced and chaotic environment just too much of a shock if nobody prepares people properly?

Is something real happening with mental health in younger people that means we need to think completely differently about how we bring them in?

Or is the over 50s conversation worth taking seriously? Not because older automatically means better, but because life experience can change what a person can cope with in a working environment, and maybe we're not factoring that in enough when we recruit.

I coach business owners for a living and I don't have a clean answer. But I think a lot of you who are small business owners have insights that aren’t spoken about in the corporate literature.

Tell me what you've actually seen. And if you've had a bad experience, what would you do differently next time?

Front line stories only please. And if you'd rather not post publicly, DM me. With your permission I'll share your experience anonymously in a future post.

13/08/2026

Life has thrown me a curveball recently. It's personal, it's private, and it's not just affecting me. It's one of those situations that ripples through everyone around you.

I'm not going to go into detail, because it involves other people and that's not my story to tell - so please don't comment with names if you know who is involved. But I did want to talk about what it's shown me as a business owner, because I think it's something that doesn't get said enough.

Because here's what I already teach other business owners, and the thing I've had to live these past few weeks rather than just explain:

When life gets really heavy and you own a small business, there's no HR department to grant compassionate leave. No guaranteed job waiting when the dust settles. Very often you're the only one who can run bank accounts and pay wages.

I want to be clear about something. I know people around me who are employed and equally affected by this situation, who have gone back to work probably before they felt ready. That takes its own kind of courage and I have enormous respect for it. If you're in that position, your employer may have an HR department or an employee assistance programme you can access, and I genuinely hope you do.

But if you're a business owner reading this, you'll know the shape of your situation is different. You're not the business. But you are responsible for it. There's no safety net. No guaranteed income while you recover. Which means the tools you use to look after yourself aren't optional extras. They're part of running the thing.

But this isn't about getting tougher and pushing through. It's about being honest about what you've got left to give and choosing very carefully where it goes.

Personally, I haven't chased new business over the last couple of weeks. I've looked after the clients I have. I've postponed calls when I needed to. I've plugged into positive books and audios. I've used self-hypnosis for regulating my state. I've napped in the middle of the day if I'm tired. I've eaten and hydrated well. I have no more than one alcoholic drink per day, and most days I don't drink at all. I've made peace with the to-do list that didn't get done. I've adjusted my goals for the quarter so I don't feel like I'm failing.

It doesn't mean I haven't cried or felt like s**t, but it does mean I've bounced back quickly from wobbles to be able to take care of the people I love and my business.

That IS a business strategy. Just not one they teach you.

Has life ever forced you to run your business from the bottom of your reserves? How did you navigate it?

29/07/2026

First review of Big Tom is in, and it's a belter.

Drew Lucas from Luden Group was the first to finish the book (at the beach) and this is what he said:

"I absolutely loved Big Tom, what a fantastic way of conceptualising an all too familiar feeling as a business owner. Informative, inspiring and entertaining. Having worked with Vicki personally this book encapsulates so much of what I value about her ways of working and how she creates a space of understanding with clear actionable conclusions. Highly recommend to fellow business owners."

Proper chuffed with that.

Drew also spotted a couple of typos. One of them being a word I seem to have invented: "Mumnight."

Not Mum's night. Not midnight. Mumnight.

When I read that, I had one of those full-body cringe moments. The kind where your arse clenches and you want to crawl under the desk. Because this wasn't in a funny bit of the book. It was in a serious section. (Page 114 if you have a copy and want a laugh.) And I'd read the bloody thing several times. I even asked AI to check for typos before sending it to print.

Apparently AI thinks Mumnight is a word too.

Maybe it should be. Maybe we need more Mumnights. Maybe I'm now an accidental advocate for them.

But here's the actual point, and it's one I bang on about with clients all the time: if I'd waited until the book was perfect, it would never have been printed.

Perfectionism is just fear wearing a nice jacket.

Sometimes you have to put yourself out there, typos and all, because that's what running a business actually looks like. You can't hide until everything's flawless.

Big Tom is perfectly imperfect. First 100 copies might even become a collector's item.

Still available at bigtomtalks.biz if you want one.

Thanks Drew Lucas for being brilliant.

28/07/2026

Last weekend Kev and I went to watch my stepson Jack race at Herne Hill Velodrome in the South London Grand Prix.

Jack (the commentators called him "the Gillingham Gr***de" which is brilliant) got third place and was absolutely made up about it.

The man's a cycling nut - works at Moloko Cycling in Richmond, part of this lovely close-knit velodrome family, always on one of his many bikes somewhere, always smiling, always positive. We're ridiculously proud of him.

It was great to watch him in his element, and one of the commentators said something when he climbed the podium that got me thinking: "Third place often feels like more of a rush than second."

Psychologists actually studied this. Bronze medallists are happier than silver medallists because silver looks UP at gold thinking "I almost won" while bronze looks DOWN at fourth place thinking "I made the podium! Woo hoo!"

It's all about where you're looking.

And you're doing the same thing in your business.

You're constantly looking up at everyone else's gold medal. Comparing your messy reality to their polished social media. Wondering why they can charge more. Beating yourself up about the deal that got away.

You're working your arse off but never feel like you're winning.

Here's the thing: your bronze medal is someone else's impossible dream.

That client you landed? Someone's still trying to get their first. That price increase you did? Someone's still undercharging and resenting it. That boundary you set? Someone's still saying yes to everything.

Stop looking at everyone else's gold and recognise your own bloody wins.

You're on the podium. Own it. Smile like Jack!

27/07/2026

If you're a business owner white-knuckling your way through every single day, convinced that stepping away for five minutes will cause everything to implode, this one's for you.

I see this constantly. Smart, capable business owners who've built something brilliant but are slowly killing themselves in the process. They're the chief engineer, primary salesperson, quality controller, and office martyr sending midnight emails.

"Nobody does it quite like I do."

Translation: "I'm terrified it’ll all go wrong without me."

So they finally hire someone senior to run things. They feel simultaneously relieved and like they've just handed their toddler a box of matches.

Then comes the raw, unfiltered pain of true delegation. It feels like watching someone else load the dishwasher completely wrong and having to sit on your hands to stop yourself redoing it. Except the dishwasher is your entire business. And it's on fire.

The ones who succeed? They're learning to sit on their bloody hands. Even when it's not perfect. Even when it's not how they would have done it.

Here's the thing: today's discomfort isn't a sign the business is failing. It's the delayed hangover from being the bottleneck nine months ago. The cure isn't jumping back in. It's letting go of your ego.

You don't need to be the hero anymore. You need to be the architect.

It’s about as comfortable as wearing someone else's pants. Scratchy, lacey ones. In fact, think bright red Anne Summers razor-wire thong - Valentine’s edition, two sizes too small.

But, when you stop doing everything and start creating space for others to do brilliant things, your business transforms. So do you.

The question is: are you ready to sit on your hands and let your business grow up?

22/07/2026

Yesterday at Rhinefield House was bloody brilliant - one of our best so far.

Connor Benham from 15 Words marketing agency came along and properly showed up. None of that fluffy "let me share my journey" nonsense - straight into the fundamentals that actually make marketing work. Getting crystal clear on who you want to attract (not everyone with a pulse and a credit card), and crafting offers that make people think "yes, I need that" instead of "meh, maybe later."

Then Connor showed us the tech he's using to get frankly ridiculous results for his clients. I'm not spilling his secrets - you had to be in the room - but even our seasoned marketer sat there looking stunned. And when Connor revealed the personalised test campaigns he'd prepared for everyone individually? You could've heard a pin drop. One client said they felt they owed him several thousand quid just for that session.

These quarterly days have become something I genuinely love. An intimate group who've become properly invested in each other's success. Some travel several hours to be there. We did our quarterly review, everyone left with action plans, and I got to hand out the first copies of Big Tom with Paris's gorgeous illustrations. (There may have been 'celebrity' book signings!)

If you're a B2B service provider with high-ticket products and a decent marketing budget, talk to Connor at 15words.co - after yesterday, I can see why his clients get the results they do.

And if you're thinking "I want to be part of gatherings like this," drop me a message.

16/07/2026

Recently, I put a post out about the shame of not understanding your accounts.

Nobody commented.

They messaged me. Privately. In DMs. Where nobody could see them admitting it.

Which, honestly, tells you everything about how this particular shame works. It's not the kind of thing anyone announces publicly when they're supposed to be the one running the business. So instead it just sits there, quietly, while you perfect the nod and the signature and the getting-out-of-the-meeting-as-fast-as-humanly-possible routine.

The people who messaged me are not struggling beginners. Some of them have been running serious businesses for years. Turning over real money. Employing real people. Completely lost the moment a set of accounts lands in front of them.

That is how common this is. That is how little it has to do with how intelligent you are.

So Kev made a video. A whiteboard, no jargon, no superiority complex, just a proper explanation of what your accounts are actually telling you and why you need to understand them.

It talks about two kinds of business owner: Person A nods, signs, and escapes from their accountant meetings as soon as possible. Person B walks in with great questions and walks out with a plan.

Watch it here if you want to be more Person B:

*▶ Watch this next → https://youtu.be/9zxD5Cd2L3M?si=DSEGA6thaRDb9V...

15/07/2026

One bad review. Seventeen good ones. Guess which one you're still thinking about at midnight.

Here's something about the brain that will make you feel simultaneously very normal and quite annoyed.

Your brain is running a highlights reel. Except it's not actually a highlights reel. It's more like a lowlights reel with occasional brief interruptions of vaguely acceptable moments. And when you're under stress, it gets worse. Sometimes you can't even see the good things when someone points them out directly.

You could have a week where three clients say yes, someone sends a lovely unprompted message, and a meeting goes better than you expected. Then one thing goes sideways. One cancellation, one cold email, one proposal that comes back with a no.

You carry that one home. That one stays. The rest? Gone by Tuesday.

This is called mental filter. And it is an Olympic-level cognitive distortion that almost every business owner I've ever worked with runs constantly. Including me at times, but I’m better than I was.

I used to do this so comprehensively that I could walk into a room full of good news and leave thinking about the one piece of bad news like I'd discovered it at a crime scene.

The fix isn't to write a gratitude journal with gritted teeth. It's just pausing to ask: am I only noticing the bad stuff? What else is happening that's good?

One cancelled client in a week of three wins is not a failing week. Your brain just needs reminding of that. Firmly. Repeatedly.

If any of this sounds familiar, let's talk.

14/07/2026

I made a rage room before it was a thing. It was called the office kitchen.

Years ago, back when I was running my property business, one of my friends worked in the same office as me. Last weekend, on the way to a rage room for her 50th birthday, she started laughing.

She reminded me of a day she'd been sitting at her desk and heard a series of rather alarming crashes coming from the kitchen. Turns out it was me launching a load of plates and mugs.

I had, completely unintentionally, invented the rage room.

Here's the thing. I thought I was releasing the pressure. Turns out the science says I was doing the exact opposite.

For decades we were sold the catharsis theory. Anger is like steam in a pressure cooker. Blow it off or you'll explode.

Modern psychology has completely revised that position. Venting doesn't lower your arousal. It maintains it. It can reinforce aggressive neural pathways and tip straight into rumination, where you're not releasing the anger at all, you're just feeding it on a loop.

What actually works is the opposite. Slowing your breathing. Mindfulness. Systematically relaxing the body. And - very importantly - changing the story you're telling yourself. Moving from "they did this on purpose to ruin my day" to "they're probably stressed and made a careless mistake." That reframe alone can fundamentally change the emotional trigger at its source.

Note - this isn’t the same as bottling anger up which has been found to be as ineffective as venting - the trick is to learn to regulate yourself.

Business anger is particularly sneaky. It's rarely the plate-throwing kind. More often it's the quiet, compressed kind that builds over months or years and shows up as tension, snapping, or lying awake at 3am rewriting conversations.

I work with people on exactly this. And if any of this sounds familiar, feel free to drop me a message.

09/07/2026

Something comes up regularly in our Wednesday Q&As and in my one to one coaching work, often enough that I think it needs saying out loud.

Some of you are looking at your numbers right now and feeling like they're a verdict on you.

Here's what I want you to consider.

That dip in sales, that quieter period, that business that's lost a bit of momentum, it might have almost nothing to do with what's happening right now. It might have everything to do with what was happening six months or more ago.

When something significant hits you personally, divorce, bereavement, serious illness, a child going through something that demands all of you, you still show up. You keep the wheels turning. You look fine from the outside.

But the energy drains quietly. The marketing slips. The follow-ups don't happen. And months later, that shows up in the numbers.

That's not failure. That's physics.

Because business owners don't get sick leave. There's no compassionate leave for the founder. Unlike an employee who can step back and return to find their job still there, a small business owner who takes their hands off the wheel for long enough can come back to find things in a very difficult state. The pressure to carry on regardless, even when your personal world is falling apart, is enormous. And largely invisible to people who've never had to do it.

If your bank balance is feeling like a measure of your worth right now, try a different measure.

What did the last eighteen months actually contain? What did you deal with while still showing up?

You're still here. Still running it.

That's quite extraordinary.

You are not your bank balance. You never were.

Share this with someone who needs to hear it today.