At 11 years old, I was trying to close a $120,000 franchise deal.
When I was around 10 years old, I became obsessed with owning a franchise.
Not because anyone told me to.
I just got the itch.
I was convinced I was going to open a Boost Juice franchise in Switzerland. I spent an absurd amount of time studying business with no structure, no roadmap, and no idea what questions I should even be asking.
Boost Juice said no. They did not want to expand there.
So I said fine. Forget Boost Juice.
Then I found a franchise website and realized you could franchise almost anything.
That completely changed my world.
I started applying to everything. After a lot of rejection, mostly because of my location, I found a tire franchise and thought: why can’t I sell tires?
I started emailing with the company about opening a new location. Lawyers started getting involved. The number I needed was $120,000.
I asked my dad for the money.
He basically said: you skipped a step. First make the money.
Fair enough.
I kept pushing anyway. Then one of the guys involved, Chris, asked for some personal info and said as long as I was over 18, we’d be fine.
I replied: “Chris, I’m 11.”
He told me they could not do the deal, but said something I still remember clearly:
“Good for you man... hope to talk to you in the future. Please read Rich Dad, Poor Dad.”
That stuck with me.
I stepped away from business for a couple years and focused on snowboarding and hockey.
At 16, I started an import business bringing snowboard gear from Canada to Dubai.
Later I started a wholesale business, then BamBoo Roots, which made bamboo products to replace single-use plastic and grew to a $1M valuation by 22. Around that same age I built an art distribution company to a similar valuation too, along with plenty of smaller wins, mistakes, and lessons.
Now I’m 29. I’ve helped build companies across different industries that have done $80M+ in revenue.
And I still think back to that 10-year-old kid emailing franchise lawyers.
Because I genuinely wonder what would have happened if that early curiosity had been shut down.
My parents did something right:
They did not shame ambition.
They did not tell me I was too young.
They were honest when something was unrealistic, but they always encouraged me to keep going.
That is exactly why I’m launching Foundra Kids.
Because when a kid asks:
“How do I start a t-shirt brand?”
or
“Why did Jimmy’s lemonade stand make no money?”
that curiosity should not die.
It should be guided.
Foundra Kids is about giving young builders a place to ask big questions, get useful feedback, and stay excited about creating.
And honestly, I think a lot of parents will learn something from it too.