When a 30-year business partnership became a conflict over strategy, ownership and trust.
Thirty years ago, a man I’ll call Adam started a business. Not long afterward, his college friend Robert joined him, first as an employee and eventually as a partner and minority owner. Together they built a successful company. Over time, however, the relationship deteriorated. Adam and Robert were barely speaking when the company's accountant referred Adam to me.
Robert owned roughly one-third of the company and ran much of its day-to-day operations. One immediate source of conflict involved the company's controller. Robert wanted to fire her and outsource the accounting function. Adam saw Robert's position as another example of his growing hostility toward him.
But the disagreement over the controller was only part of it. Years of resentment had accumulated between them. They disagreed about the direction of the business, and some projects Adam had championed had lost money. Business disagreements had become personal, and each seemed increasingly inclined to interpret the other's actions through the history between them.
By the time Adam came to me, he was ready to hire a lawyer and sue Robert.
I asked Adam to separate what he actually knew from what he believed about Robert's motives. Then I asked him to imagine Robert sitting in the room with us. What would Robert say was happening? How would he describe the problems between them?
Adam was dismissive at first. He had a well-developed explanation for Robert's behavior and didn't see much reason to question it. But I wasn't asking him to agree with Robert or conclude that Robert was right. I wanted Adam to understand Robert's position well enough to stop treating his own interpretation of Robert's motives as fact.
Robert wasn't simply an employee Adam could overrule. He owned roughly a third of the company, ran much of its operations, and had his own perspective on what was best for the business.
As we continued talking, Adam began to recognize that Robert's actions might have explanations beyond the motives he had attributed to him. He also began to acknowledge that some of Robert's frustrations had a legitimate basis, including concerns about decisions Adam had made.
Adam could see some of this privately, but saying it to Robert was another matter. He couldn't bring himself to say, in effect, “I got some of this wrong.” It was much easier to focus on the things Robert had done wrong.
As Adam became less consumed with explaining Robert's behavior, he also became clearer about something more fundamental: he no longer wanted to be Robert's business partner. Whatever had happened between them, that was the outcome he wanted to pursue.
Adam offered to buy Robert's interest in the company. The negotiation was difficult and contentious, and at various points litigation was threatened. Ultimately, they reached an agreement and Robert sold his interest to Adam. Not long afterward, the controller was let go and the accounting function was outsourced, as Robert had originally proposed.
The business partnership ended, but the relationship wasn't repaired. Adam and Robert still had shared investments, liabilities and guarantees that required some continued interaction, but they communicated as little as possible. A friendship that had lasted more than 30 years did not survive the breakup.
That may not sound like a happy ending, but resolution isn't always reconciliation. Adam and Robert avoided a destructive legal battle and found a way to separate their business interests. Adam also came away with a clearer understanding of what had happened between them and how they had gotten there.
Sometimes resolution doesn't mean repairing a relationship. Sometimes it means finding a way forward when the relationship can no longer be repaired.
Privacy Note: Names, identifying details, places, and certain circumstances have been changed to protect confidentiality. This case is based on an actual engagement and is presented to illustrate the nature of Resolve Advisory's work.