When I first joined Vistage, I had peers who were running $100 million — or even $1 billion — organizations. My imposter syndrome was real. I remember wondering, What am I doing here?
I quickly realized that scale didn't matter as much as shared experience. Being part of Vistage normalized the reality of being a CEO — meaning it's lonely at the top, and when you have other people in the same situation, there's an immediate connection. Also, I think you want to surround yourself with people who are up to big things.
That peer environment had a profound impact. I discovered that I really enjoy helping people beyond one company or industry. So the question became, How do I help people in business without getting sucked back into the daily grind?
I sold Rocky Mountain Restoration in December 2022 and took time to figure out what I wanted to do personally and professionally. The first year was about unwinding and transitioning out of the business. The next year was rediscovering who I was and gaining clarity on what was next. I realized that entrepreneurs are wired to build; we don't just turn off the gears. You have to find a new place to channel that energy.
That's what led me to create Uncommon Companies. Today, I advise, invest in, and support other business leaders without the demands of running an organization. As a fifth-generation Arizonan, I've chosen to focus much of my work here. I believe in blooming where you're planted, and there's no shortage of opportunity around Phoenix.
Life after my sale has also made room for things I once put off. I learned how to ski. I organize annual trips to the Alps, play tennis weekly, paddleboard the Salt River, and plan international family travel: Italy, Norway, and the U.K. Japan's next.
To CEOs still in the thick of it, I'd say you don't have to wait till you sell a business to start playing tennis. Or to start going to the kids' soccer games. Or taking care of your body. Don't buy into the belief that success requires nonstop sacrifice. With a clear intention and the right help, you can prioritize family, health, or whatever else is important to you as you build your business.
My former husband and I started Bully's Sports Bar in 1994 and grew it to seven locations. We divorced in 2004, and I stepped back from the business. When he passed away in 2009, Bully's had grown to 300 employees.
I took over again at the height of the recession. I didn't know if I could save it, but I was going to try.
I had a two-year plan to sell, but that turned into 15 years of running the company, which grew to 11 locations. People still ask, "Is that a franchise?" No, I oversaw all locations personally.
Selling was about more than money. I couldn't imagine northern Nevada without Bully's. Some of the employees have been with us for 25+ years, our entire run. It was important to find the right buyer — someone with the right background and values. I'm very happy with how it worked out. The new owner maintained the brand, and nearly all of the employees stayed on. And I didn't want to stay on and work for someone else; this was an operator who knew what he was doing.
Vistage was instrumental in preparing me to sell. I got so many golden nuggets from people who've done it before. My Chair, Chuck Alvey, brought in speakers who talked about life after selling a business. That was invaluable. My group was fantastic, and I've spoken with Chuck half a dozen times since.
Leaving Bully's was bittersweet. It took over a year to step off the hamster wheel of CEO mode. My new husband, Cory, and I have started traveling, working on house remodels, and spending time on our houseboat at Shasta Lake. We're planning to spend part of the year in Oregon with our grandkids. I don't have any hobbies yet; I was so busy with the business I didn't have time to develop any. But this chapter is all about slowing down and enjoying life outside of running a company.
When the sale of my business closed, I found myself in a position where I could do just about anything. That kind of freedom is a gift and a little disorienting.
I knew what I didn't want: I didn't want to go "180 miles an hour." Raise capital. Launch some big initiative. Do what I'd always been doing. I also wasn't going to go work for anyone. I wanted to be intentional about what came next.
After the sale, I took the summer off and spent time at my beach house on the Jersey Shore. It wasn't about escaping — it was about slowing down to actually hear myself think. When the summer ended, I rented an office, got dressed, waved to a receptionist, and sat down to work without any job or gig. The job was to figure out what I was going to do next.
I looked at everything. I explored businesses I might acquire, considered raising capital, thought about franchise opportunities, and listened politely when people offered me jobs. I focused on what I wanted my ideal life to be like — how I wanted to show up professionally, and the impact I wanted to make.
Chair friends said, "Adam, why don't you give Chair Academy a try and go learn something?" I had this bias that Chairing was something people did toward the end of their careers. That shifted quickly when I met Chairs who were "all in," running substantial practices, multiple groups, and having tremendous impact. I realized this could be whatever I wanted to make it.
Building a group pushed me outside my comfort zone. There was no silver bullet — just deciding that I was going to launch no matter what. I set a date, visualized myself in the room, and committed fully.
Now, almost three years in, this is everything I wanted it to be. My life is full of impact and mission. I'm professionally stimulated. I'm able to be the father I want to be for my children. And I'm surrounded by a community that supports and challenges me.
