Know When to Walk Away: A Great Opportunity Can Still Lead to a Bad Partnership

At Business Sisters, we talk a lot about collaboration, and how women are often natural collaborators. Collaboration with marketing, procurement and other business functions can be especially beneficial for those of us operating in smaller communities. It can accomplish things together that would be difficult to accomplish alone. But collaboration isn't automatically good business. A great opportunity can still lead to a bad partnership unless a proper foundation is in place.

This is the story of what happened to me, 10 years ago, when I teamed up with three other women to create a hosted-buyer event for the meetings industry. This was back when I still owned Greenfield Services Inc. 

The concept was clever, and nothing like this existed in Canada yet – only Las Vegas and European destinations had something even remotely like it. As a foursome, we were determined to make it happen in Ottawa, in the month of January no less!

On paper, we were a team of four equal partners, each of us bringing an equally-value set of skills and assets.

The one partner who had originally conceived the idea – I’ll call her J – had strong relationships with all the destination management organizations we needed as paying clients. She was the one I was personally closest to. The two other women were veteran event planners, with an established event connected to a major industry tradeshow happening right around our desired time frame. I knew one of them well enough, while the other was more of an acquaintance to me. 

As the fourth partner, I owned the data. Through my then-business, I had access to thousands of meeting planners across Canada who were ideal prospects to be invited as buyers. I became the email marketing and social media gal for the group.

We launched to great fanfare; four proud women business owners, each with their own businesses, coming together for this joint venture.

The first year, I felt like we'd pulled a rabbit out of a hat. The concept was new, people were excited about it, the industry was talking about it and, much to my surprise, we made a very healthy profit. Sweet!

We did it again the following year. Except that second year didn't feel nearly as magical or fun.

Maybe success had raised the stakes. But there was more nitpicking; why didn't that email go out yet? Have you talked to so-and-so about this? Why choose beef as a main course -- wasn't there a cheaper alternative? There was more scrutiny over who was doing what, whose contribution mattered most and how many hours each of us was putting in. Gradually, even the littlest things bothered me.

We self-reported the hours we worked. It was essentially an honour system. Except that the two other partners consistently reported  more hours than my friend J and I did, so they were taking more income out of the venture. We joked that perhaps we were just more efficient at what we did, but it didn't feel right.

There were other things. Despite being partners, J and I didn't have access to the financial transparency I now realize we should have demanded. Questions about contributions and value became increasingly uncomfortable. Was it fair that bookkeeping and graphic design were charged to the project at the same rate as relationship building and list management?

We were reluctant to question the numbers because doing so would reveal that we didn’t entirely trust our business partners. Clearly we had a much bigger problem than just not seeing the numbers.

Meanwhile, I was going through my own private turmoil. In the fall of 2016 my husband and I sold Greenfield Services, and I could feel myself pulling away from the meetings industry. Plus, although I didn't recognize it then, I was burned out. I didn't want to play the game anymore.

So I told my friend J that I was thinking of leaving the joint venture. Her immediate response was to beg me not to leave her alone with "the other two b******." That stopped me cold.

I began to wonder whether I had been brought into the partnership not only because of what I could contribute to the event, but because my presence helped create a more equal balance among partners who already had difficult relationships.

That was not a role I wanted. So in August 2017, I gave notice. Reluctantly, so did J. And because of how our joint venture agreement had been structured, our departures effectively ended the collaboration.

Except it didn't really end the event. The other two continued. By then, the event had a reputation. The destinations knew the concept was successful. Buyers wanted to attend. The assets J and I had originally brought to the table weren't nearly as essential anymore.

Looking back, we left so much money on the table – as the event just celebrated its 10th anniversary earlier this year, I estimate J and I left behind a minimum estimated return of $100K each. 

For years, I told myself that didn't matter. I had walked away because I didn't want to do that kind of work anymore. I didn't want to work with people I couldn't have fun with and trust. My integrity and my head held high. Nearly ten years later, I see it somewhat differently.

I still believe walking away was the right decision. But being willing to walk away doesn't mean I handled the business side of walking away particularly well.

If you're considering a partnership or joint venture, here's what I'd do differently:

• Talk about the breakup before you get together. Decide what happens if one partner wants out, the others want to continue, or the relationship simply stops working. Include a buyout or exit provisions and agree on how the business and its components will be valued.
• Get very clear about who owns what. Customer relationships, mailing lists, intellectual property, the brand, financial records and other assets can become surprisingly contentious once a partnership ends. Put ownership and usage rights in writing from the beginning.
• Insist on financial transparency. Every partner should understand where the money is coming from, where it's going and how profits and expenses are being calculated. If you're a partner but can't see the books, that's a problem.
• Define how everyone's contribution will be valued. Money is easy to count. Time, relationships, expertise, data, reputation and access to customers are not. Don't wait until there's resentment to decide whose contribution is worth what.
• Pay attention when trust starts to erode. If you're reluctant to question someone's numbers, decisions or behaviour because doing so would expose the fact that you don't trust them, don't ignore that discomfort. Deal with it.
• Watch what people do, not what they say their values are. Values show up in how people share information, divide money, resolve disagreements, give credit and talk about their partners when they're not in the room.

And one final thing: don't mistake trust for protection. Trust is essential to a partnership, but it doesn't replace a good legal agreement. In fact, when everyone trusts each other is exactly when you should create one.

Sometimes walking away from the table really is the right decision. But if I could go back to 2017, in my situation, I'd make damn sure we had agreed on what walking away from that table looked like before any of us sat down at it.

Doreen

P.S.  Since you made it all the way down here,  you deserve a reward! Advocating one's position and having difficult conversations around money are just two of the many topics we will tackle at the Business Sisters Conference 2026. Use code BIZSIS40 to take $40 off your Conference ticket. Register by August 31, you’ll get the special bonuses we’ve added for those who commit early. Take a look and grab your ticket here.