Why the rhino

Poor eyes, excellent ears

A rhino cannot see much past thirty metres. What it has instead is hearing and smell, and it uses them constantly. That is most of this job. The value in a business is rarely the part you can see from the street.

Thick skin

Somebody has to absorb the pressure of due diligence, the price arguments and the buyer who goes quiet for a fortnight, so the owner can keep running a good business while it happens.

Forward only

Rhinos do not reverse. Deals die from drift, not from disagreement, and the job is to keep the thing moving through the stages that make people uncomfortable.

A group of rhinos is a crash

Nobody sells a business on their own. Your accountant, your solicitor and your broker each do a part of it. Bring them in early and you get a better result than any of us manage alone.

The horn is grown, not given

Layer on layer, worn down by use, and nothing decorative about it. There is no shortcut version of knowing what a fleet is worth or what a buyer will pull apart.

Built to last, not built to look good

The businesses that sell well are rarely the prettiest ones. They are the ones that keep working when the owner is not there.

Rhinos make the tracks

Rhino paths cut through thick scrub and every other animal ends up using them. A properly run campaign makes the track that the buyers follow.

The bird on the back

The oxpecker calls out what the rhino cannot see. That is the accountant and the solicitor, and a broker who tells you they are not needed is telling you something.

Quiet most of the time

A rhino spends the bulk of its day grazing and minding its own business. It only moves when there is a reason. Most of this job is patient work nobody sees: preparation, qualification, and knowing when not to push.