America Delights At Punishing Business Failure

America loves to magnify this dream of freedom through business ownership — the whole “be your own boss” thing. In honesty, it’s a bit of a myth. Sure, you don’t have one boss when you’re a business owner… you have a several. Your time is your boss. Your lease payment is your boss. Your customers? Oh, they’re definitely your bosses. And let’s not evern get started on payroll taxes, vendors, and that never-ending to-do list that screams at you at 2 a.m. The idea of “freedom” in business ownership is more like trading one set of chains for another.

Americans have this weird love-hate relationship with business owners. When you succeed, you’re the hero — the self-made entrepreneur who pulled themselves up by their bootstraps. But when you fail? Oh man, you might as well be a junkie on the corner. People look at you like you’re damaged goods. They whisper, they judge, and they act like your failure is some kind of moral failing.

Why is that? Why do we punish failure so hard in this country? When someone’s business goes under, we don’t just let them drown — we stand on their head to make sure they sink faster. It’s brutal. And it’s hypocritical. Think about it: if someone gets conned into a bad business deal, we blame them for not being smarter, for not seeing it coming. But if a woman trusts the wrong guy at a bar and ends up getting hurt, we don’t blame her — we call her a victim. Both situations involve trust and risk, but in business, we shame the victim instead of offering support.

Failure is part of growth. It’s not just a possibility in business — it’s practically a guarantee. You can’t get anywhere without taking risks, and risks mean you’re going to fail sometimes. That’s just how it works. The key is learning how to fail smart.

Take a pie shop, for example. Let’s say they’re doing $30,000 a month in revenue, and they want to test out a new flavor. Instead of rolling it out in the shop and risking a flop, they take it to a farmer’s market. They spend a little on ingredients, a little on gas, and a little time to get feedback from real customers. If it works, great — they’ve got a new product and maybe even a small profit. If it doesn’t, they’re out some time and money, but they’ve learned something valuable. That’s tempered risk. It’s not about avoiding failure; it’s about failing in a way that doesn’t destroy you.

But let’s be honest, even small failures sting. Big ones? They can feel like the end of the world. I’m not gonna sugarcoat it — getting through a major business failure is hard. Like, really hard. It’s exhausting, it’s depressing, and it can make you question everything about yourself. But here’s the thing: failure doesn’t make you less of a person. If anything, it’s the opposite.

The ones who are willing to take risk are the ones who built this country and the ones who created your comfy job.

Having the guts to take risks in the first place is a big deal. And when you fail, it’s not about how hard you fall — it’s about whether you get back up. The people who can pick themselves up, dust themselves off, and pivot after a failure? Those are the ones with real integrity. They’re the ones who understand that failure isn’t the end of the story — it’s just a plot twist.

We shouldn’t treat failure like it’s some kind of scarlet letter. Let’s start seeing it for what it really is, a necessary part of the journey. Because at the end of the day, the only real failure is giving up.