You do not want to work in an independent living home.
The first thing I tell every woman who says she wants to open one.
Every week a woman tells me she wants to open an independent living home. Or an adult day care. Or an assisted living facility. She says it the way you'd say you want to run a marathon: a little proud, a little scared, already tired.
And then I ask her the question that changes the whole conversation.
Do you want to work in one, or do you want to own the business that runs one?
She always says own. Then she describes a job. She'll be there at six in the morning. She'll do the intakes. She'll cover when someone calls out, because someone always calls out. She'll know every client's schedule by heart. In her head, that's what ownership looks like, because that's what she's seen. She's spent twenty years watching the person in charge do everything, and she's decided she can do everything better.
She probably can. That's not the point.
Here's what I learned owning independent living homes, and what thirty-two years of healthcare taught me before that. A care business is three separate things stacked on top of each other, and most people only see the top one.
The top layer is the care. The clients, the staff, the meals, the daily rhythm. This is the part that feels like the business, because it's the part with people in it. It's also the part you can hire for, and depending on what you open, the part you may not be allowed to do yourself.
The middle layer is the structure. This is where the three facilities stop being the same thing. An assisted living facility and an adult day care require a state license: inspections, staffing rules, and paperwork that decides whether you're allowed to open at all. An independent living home does not, as long as the care is provided by a third-party agency and not by you. Most people don't know that. They spend a year chasing a license they don't need, or they open without one and provide care they're not allowed to provide. Which model you choose, and how you set it up, decides how you operate for the next ten years. You have to know that before you sign a lease or purchase a property, not after.
The bottom layer is the building. Who owns it. Who pays the mortgage. Who collects the rent. Ninety percent of the women I meet are planning to rent a house from somebody else, run themselves into the ground caring for six clients, and hand a check to the landlord every month. That's a job with extra steps.
The woman I write these notes for owns all three layers. Her company runs the home. Her other company holds the building. The care comes through the agency she chose, or the license she earned, and she hires the person who's there at six in the morning and pays her well, because she remembers being her.
That's the business that owns the facility. It is not more work than the job. It is different work, and most of it happens before you ever open the doors.
So that's what this note is going to be about, every week. One thing I know from having done it: the structure, the money, the building, the people you need at the table with you. Not theory. Not what I read in a Facebook group. What I built, and what I'd do differently.
More than likely, you're not stuck. You're just in mid-build. And now you have someone building next to you.
Next week: the permission you don't need. Most women lose a year chasing a license the law never asked them for.
We should all be rich friends. — Dr. TMac
