Imagine training your own competition. Very generous of me.
I was eating chicken wings.
That's important because I was minding my business.
No drama.
No detective work.
Just me, my wings, and apparently the beginning of an episode of Snapped: Freelancer Edition.
I opened Slack.
And there she was.
My VA.
Not some random freelancer.
MY VA.
The woman I paid.
The woman I trained.
The woman I had personally brought into my client's business.
And apparently, while I thought we were working together, sis had started working on her exit strategy.
Mine.
Wait. Why Are You in His DMs?
I'd given her access because she needed it to do her job.
She knew the client.
She knew the account.
She knew my process.
She knew how I ran meetings because I had literally taught her.
I gave her context before calls.
I explained why we did things a certain way.
I helped her understand how to communicate with the client.
Meanwhile, she'd apparently looked at my workflow and thought:
This is nice.
What if I steal it and add a 50% off coupon?
Because she went directly to my client and offered to do what I was doing.
For half.
HALF.
Ma'am.
You stole my shit and then undercut me with it?
At least respect the intellectual property enough to charge full price.
I Had to Put the Chicken Wing Down
There are moments in life when your brain needs a second to catch up with what your eyes are seeing.
This was one of them.
I stared at Slack.
Looked away.
Looked back.
Still there.
And the wild part was that she'd been sitting on Zoom with me acting completely normal.
Smiling.
Supporting.
“Happy to help, Monica!”
Were you?
Because apparently you were also happy to help yourself.
The audacity had benefits and direct deposit.
Unfortunately for Her, I Know How to Document Shit
My first instinct could've been confrontation.
But I've spent too many years around executives, projects, contracts, and corporate nonsense to start typing angry messages before I know exactly what happened.
So I started collecting.
Screenshots.
Messages.
Dates.
Access.
Agreements.
I reviewed everything.
Then I planned the exit.
No screaming match.
No dramatic Slack paragraph.
No digital table flipping.
She was removed.
Quietly.
Legally.
Permanently.
Then I went back to my chicken.
Probably cold by then.
Another crime to add to the list.
The Betrayal Wasn't the Only Problem
Afterward, I had to ask myself an uncomfortable question.
How did she get enough access to even attempt this?
Yes, she made the decision.
That's hers.
But I had built an environment where trust was doing work that paperwork and access controls should've been doing.
I trusted somebody because she was on my team.
So I shared freely.
Processes.
Client information.
Training.
The reasoning behind how I operated.
And that experience taught me something about running a team:
Trust is wonderful.
Documentation is better.
Everybody Doesn't Need the Keys to the House
I became much more thoughtful about access after that.
What does this person actually need to perform their role?
That's what they get.
Not every folder.
Not every client conversation.
Not every process.
Not every piece of information I've accumulated over years of running my business.
And if somebody is receiving access to proprietary material?
We're putting it in writing.
Because “we're a team” is cute until somebody decides your client list looks like a prospecting database.
Absolutely the fuck not.
Training Someone Doesn't Mean Handing Over Your Business
I'm still going to teach people.
I'm still going to build teams.
I'm still going to share what somebody needs to become great at their job.
One bad experience didn't turn me into a woman sitting in a dark room clutching an SOP to my chest.
But there's a difference between developing somebody and giving unrestricted access to everything you've built.
I learned that one the expensive way.
Some information belongs to the role.
Some belongs to the business.
Know the difference.
And No, I'm Not Mad Anymore
Now?
The whole thing is kind of hilarious.
Not the betrayal.
The confidence.
Imagine learning somebody's exact process from them and deciding your first entrepreneurial act will be stealing their client.
Baby.
That's not entrepreneurship.
That's shoplifting with Wi-Fi.
But it did make me better at running a business.
Better contracts.
Better permissions.
Better documentation.
Better boundaries around client relationships and intellectual property.
She thought she was taking my workflow.
She accidentally helped me improve it.
Oops.
CURRENT MOOD
“Don’t Start Now” by Dua Lipa.
Perfect soundtrack for realizing somebody already had access to you, fumbled it spectacularly, and will absolutely not be getting back in.
Don't show up.
Don't come out.
And please don't send another fucking Slack message.
We've concluded your onboarding.
Permanently.
Listen to “Don’t Start Now” by Dua Lipa on YouTube
PEAK OF THE WEEK
Looking at how differently I protect my business now.
People can call it guarded.
I call it learning.
You can have my support.
You can have my training.
You can have the access required to do your job exceptionally well.
But the keys to the whole damn kingdom?
Those stay with me.
#ShopliftingWithWiFi
XXX,
M💋
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