How a Single Phone Call Sparked My Love of Business and Showed Me the Freedom of Making My Own Decisions
I was three months into my first “real job” as a small animal vet in Huntington, West Virginia, paying down student loans and doing exactly what I was supposed to do.
But here’s the thing – this wasn’t actually the plan. During vet school, I’d planned to be a mixed animal vet, splitting my time between small animals in the clinic and large animals on farms. That’s what I’d trained for, and growing up on a cattle farm, it’s what felt natural.
The problem? Those jobs barely existed. And the few mixed animal positions I could find around the country were paying around $35K in 2001. Meanwhile, I was offered $60K for small animal work in my hometown – one of the highest salaries in my graduating class. My classmates thought I’d hit the lottery.
I loved small animal medicine, don’t get me wrong. But I really missed working with large animals. All that training in cattle medicine and surgery was just… sitting there unused.
Then the phone rang.
“Hey Chad, would you be willing to come look at some of my cows? Just need some heifers pregnancy checked.”
It was Roger Wooten – a family friend who’d known me since I was the kid mucking stalls, hauling hay bales, and getting kicked by ornery cattle on our family’s beef farm. And honestly? I was excited. I hadn’t used my palpation skills since before graduating vet school, and part of me was itching to get my hands dirty with large animal work again.
Roger needed some cows pregnancy checked, and he mentioned he also had a cow that was limping – could I bring some kind of “pain shot”?
The pregnancy checking? No problem. I had my own supply of OB sleeves and lubricant from our family farm. But anti-inflammatory medication for the limping cow? That was a problem. I didn’t have any bottles of medication stocked.
“I’ll take a look at her,” I told him, “but you might need to get the drug elsewhere.”
I threw my supplies in my red Ford Ranger – a 2-wheel drive stick shift that had been my faithful companion for 8 years through college and vet school. That sweet ride had hauled feed and survived countless farm mishaps – and now it was about to become my first mobile office.
I pregnancy checked three cows and nailed the dates they were due. Yes! The limping cow definitely needed pharmaceutical relief, but I had to tell him he’d need to call another vet for medication.
When he asked what he owed me, I said, “No charge.”
He looked at me like I’d lost my mind.
“Chad – you went to school for a long time to learn your skills. My advice is to not give them away for free.”
He handed me $75. “For your professional time.”
That drive home changed everything. Seventy-five dollars for a 10-mile road trip, 50 cents worth of supplies, and thirty minutes of my time. I had no idea what I was doing with pricing, but I was hooked.
Before I even got back to my house, I was already thinking: What if I started my own mobile thing? There have to be tons of people who need help like this, especially since most vets in the area were small animal only.
That single call changed my entire mindset. It ignited something in me and I became really intrigued by the idea of side ventures and side hustles. I actually liked my day job, but I wanted to create a little something for myself – something where I made the decisions, set the schedule, and kept the profits. The freedom was intoxicating.
That night I did some research, came up with the name “Veterinary Livestock Services,” and started applying to wholesale and distributive supply companies. I was never going to be caught without medications again. The fancier equipment would have to be added gradually, but I needed to start somewhere.
The Accidental Entrepreneur
Here’s what nobody tells you about side ventures and side hustles: they rarely start with a business plan. They start with someone who knows you asking if you can help solve a problem.
I wasn’t thinking about “market opportunity” or “scalable business models” when Roger called. I was thinking about using skills I missed, helping someone I cared about, and honestly – having a little fun doing work that felt different from my daily routine.
But that’s exactly why it worked. Roger trusted me, I had relevant skills, and the barrier to entry was low. No fancy equipment, no huge investment – just knowledge, basic supplies, and willingness to say yes.
Why Side Ventures Are Your Best Business School
Starting a side venture while you have a day job creates perfect conditions for learning:
Low enough risk that you can experiment. I had my associate vet salary covering my bills. If the mobile practice failed, I wasn’t going to lose my house. That safety net gave me permission to try things, make mistakes, and learn without panic.
High enough commitment that you take it seriously. But I was still using my own money for supplies, my own truck for transportation, my own reputation with every farm call. It wasn’t play money – it was real business with real consequences.
Real customer feedback, immediately. When you’re standing in a barn at sunrise figuring out why a cow is sick, you get instant, unfiltered feedback on whether you’re adding value. No focus groups or market research required.
Over the next few years, I was willing to work hard after hours and weekends outside of my regular job. I learned marketing and business skills as I went – figuring out how to price services, manage cash flow when farmers pay seasonally, build referral systems, handle difficult conversations about money, and scale operations without losing quality.
Those lessons became the foundation for everything I built afterward – including later ventures in e-commerce and online education. But it all started with Roger’s phone call and my willingness to say yes before I felt completely ready.
The Three Things That Actually Matter
Looking back, Roger’s call taught me three principles that apply to any side venture or side hustle:
Start with skills you already have. My first side venture worked because I was already a trained veterinarian who’d grown up on a cattle farm. I didn’t have to learn a new profession; I just had to learn how to deliver those skills differently. Your side venture should build on what you already know, not require you to become someone completely new.
Solve problems people are already paying to solve. Those farmers were already buying veterinary services – just not conveniently. I didn’t create demand; I redirected it. Look for inconveniences in existing markets, not completely new markets that don’t exist yet.
Begin before you feel ready. I didn’t wait until I had perfect equipment or complete inventory. I started with what I had and upgraded as I learned what actually mattered. Perfectionism is the enemy of starting – and starting is more important than perfection.
The Side Venture Advantage You’re Not Thinking About
Everyone talks about side ventures as sources of extra income. That’s true, but it’s not the most valuable part.
The most valuable part is optionality.
When you have successfully built something on the side, you have choices. You can scale it up. You can sell it. You can use the skills and confidence you’ve developed to negotiate better terms in your day job. You can pivot your entire career if you want to.
Most importantly, you develop what I call “entrepreneurial instincts” – the ability to spot opportunities, assess risk, and take action without needing permission from anyone else.
Those instincts have been worth more to me than any single business I’ve built.
Your Roger Wooten Is Waiting
Right now, someone in your network needs something you’re uniquely positioned to provide. Someone has a problem that your skills, experience, or perspective could solve.
You might not recognize it as a business opportunity yet. I certainly didn’t when Roger called about his cows.
But here’s what I’ve learned: the best side ventures and side hustles don’t start with you asking “What business should I start?” They start with you asking “How can I help?”
The business part figures itself out.
Your homework for this week: Pay attention to the problems people around you are complaining about. Not theoretical problems – specific, expensive, recurring problems that they’re already trying to solve.
Listen for phrases like “I wish someone would…” or “It’s so hard to find…” or “I’m so tired of dealing with…”
One of those complaints might be your cattle call.
When it comes, the question isn’t whether you have perfect equipment or complete knowledge. The question is whether you’ll have the courage to say yes.
What’s your version of the cattle call? That unexpected request that could turn into something bigger? I read every email and love hearing these stories – hit reply and tell me about it. The best ones often become future posts (with your permission, of course).