Fifteen years earlier, O’Connell Logistics hadn’t been a company with hundreds of workers across several states. It had been one rusted delivery van, a folding table in our tiny apartment, and a growing pile of unpaid invoices.

Barrett had ambition, charm, and a rare gift for making people believe in his vision. What he lacked was capital, credit, administrative sense, or any patience for the tedious work that keeps a business alive.

I had all of that. My late aunt had left me a small property in Lakewood and a modest investment fund, and I liquidated both to finance the business we planned together.

I drafted our registration forms myself. I negotiated our first commercial vehicle lease. I arranged the insurance, secured the transit permits, built the payroll systems and the balance sheets after midnight while Barrett drove the early routes.

I kept my day job in medical administration for two full years so my salary could cover our rent while the company found its feet.

Back then, Barrett called it our shared enterprise.