I watched a short clip from Saleem Asaria on Instagram, who’s spent 30 years in behavioural healthcare, and he named the gap precisely.

Two Triangles

His argument is that the people who seem to have it sorted aren’t chasing happiness. They’ve built a life that can’t sustain unhappiness.

Triangle one: Purpose. Mastery. Autonomy.

Triangle two: Autonomy, broken into its working parts — Data. Recognition. Communication.

His example is in the eyes of Fitbit:

1. Purpose: don’t be sedentary.

2. Mastery: 10,000 steps.

3. Autonomy: the data sits on your wrist, so you never have to ask anyone how you’re going.

Then recognition and communication, which he says is the part we all need and most of us won’t admit to.

His mother is 86 and lives with interstitial lung disease. When she’s 200 steps short at the end of the day, she walks the stairs. Not for the steps. Because she knows that the moment the number ticks over, her grandchildren, her nieces and her nephews will ring and tell her well done.

The Fitbit didn’t motivate her. The loop did.

Where I was thin

Test yourself against the six points honestly and you find out fast which one you’ve been coasting on.

Purpose was fine. I knew exactly why I made the move. Autonomy is arguably better than it’s ever been — I can see my own pipeline, I don’t need anyone’s permission to know where I stand. Recognition sorts itself out over time; it’s slower at a new firm, but it’s a function of results, not a thing to engineer.

Mastery was the hole. And it’s the sneaky one, because from the outside a busy calendar looks identical to a measurable standard.

I had activity. Meetings, inspections, appraisals, calls. What I didn’t have was a number I could fail against by Friday. Something I either hit or didn’t, that I could see without opening a report someone else wrote. In a transaction business the natural metric is settled deals, and settled deals are a terrible daily standard — they’re lagging, lumpy, and mostly determined by decisions made months earlier. You can have a fantastic quarter of work and a blank month of outcomes.

That’s not a measurement problem. It’s a design problem.

Why it matters more than motivation

Motivation is a feeling, and feelings are circumstantial. They’re highest in the first fortnight of anything and lowest in the middle, which is exactly when the work matters.

A system doesn’t care how you feel. Clear purpose, a standard you either meet or miss, data you can see without asking, and someone who registers the win — that structure holds weight on the days you’d rather not.

Most people, me included on this occasion, run the opposite way. We optimise the visible stuff — the title, the platform, the market — and assume the daily architecture will assemble itself. It doesn’t. You end up with a genuinely good decision and no way of knowing, on any given Tuesday, whether you’re executing it well.

The correction

The good news about a design problem is that it’s fixable in an afternoon.

I’ve set a leading standard. Not deals. Something I control entirely, that I can count before lunch, that says nothing at all about whether the market cooperated this month. A standard you can only hit when conditions are favourable isn’t a standard — it’s weather.

What surprised me is how much lighter it made everything. The pressure in a transaction business isn’t the work; it’s the not-knowing. Am I actually building something this week, or just busy? Give yourself a number you can meet by Friday and that question stops running in the background. The deals still take as long as they take. You’re just no longer waiting on them to tell you whether you’re doing the job well.

Asaria’s conclusion after three decades in behavioural health is that happiness is engineered, not discovered. I’d extend it. So is a career. The move was the easy part — and the far better part is that the rest is entirely in your hands.

Run yourself against the six points. Whichever one’s thin, it’s usually a smaller build than you’d expect, and the payoff is immediate.

Remember;

“Happiness is engineered not discovered.”

Source: Saleem Asaria (@saleem_asaria)

Five years and 35+ motel transactions deep, across leasehold, freehold going concern and freehold investment deals. Savills gives me a national platform and a global network to back the same specialist focus: motels, caravan parks, hotels and accommodation assets.

Queensland remains the core of what I do. But the brief now runs nationally, and that opens up more for the buyers and vendors I work with — bigger pool of capital, broader deal flow, more ways to get transactions done.

Full announcement here: The Hotel Conversation — Experienced accommodation broker Nathan Benjamin joins Savills

The berry bush problem

In 1976, biologist Eric Charnov formalised something foragers already knew instinctively: animals don’t strip a food patch bare before moving on. A bird lands on a berry bush, eats the easy fruit near the surface, and leaves — while the bush is still half full, while the berries left are still good to eat.

Charnov called it the marginal value theorem. The logic is simple once you see it. Every patch starts rich and then slows. The berries get harder to find, smaller, and further apart. The bush hasn’t failed — it’s just decelerating. And the animal’s real question was never “Is this bush still giving me something?” It was “Is this bush still giving me more than I’d get somewhere else, once I account for the cost of moving?”

The moment the answer flips, the bird leaves. Not when the bush is empty. Long before that.

Working and working well aren’t the same thing

This is where it gets uncomfortable for anyone running a business, a deal pipeline, a portfolio, or a career. Most of us were trained to finish what we start and to read “still producing something” as “still worth doing.” That’s the wrong test.

A client, a listing, a market, a role, a strategy — all of them behave like berry bushes. They start rich. Early effort returns fast. Then the curve bends. You’re still getting something out of it. It’s just costing you more time and attention per unit of return than it used to, and there’s a version of you, or your business, that could be getting a better rate somewhere else.

The trap isn’t staying in something bad. Nobody needs a model to tell them to leave a bad deal. The trap is staying in something that’s merely no longer the best use of your time — because it still feels like it’s working. Slower returns don’t announce themselves as failure. They just quietly become the wrong home for your effort.

What the model actually asks you to track

Marginal value theorem thinking isn’t about optimism or pessimism. It’s a rate comparison. Two numbers:

What is this specific thing returning me right now, per unit of time or capital I put into it — not what it returned me at the start, not what it could theoretically return again?

What’s the average rate available to me elsewhere, once I price in the cost of switching — the deal I’m not chasing, the client I’m not prospecting, the capital sitting in something else while I hold this?

When the first number drops below the second, the model says go. Everything after that point is sentiment, sunk cost, or fear of admitting the bush changed.

The hard part is that this requires you to actually track the rate, not the total. A deal pipeline that’s “still bringing in commission” can be quietly bleeding your best hours if you never measure velocity, only volume. A portfolio position that’s “still up” can be dead capital if the market’s diminishing-returns curve has already bent and you haven’t clocked it.

The uncomfortable version of this for operators

Nobody builds a business, buys a stock, or takes a job intending to overstay. It happens because leaving requires admitting nothing went wrong — which feels irrational. It’s much easier to justify quitting a disaster than quitting something that’s merely fine.

But the fine is the actual cost. Fine is the bush still worth eating from while a better one goes unvisited. The birds don’t wait for the bush to fail. They don’t need permission from a crisis. They just run the rate comparison, quietly, constantly, and move when the number says move.

That’s the whole discipline. Not grit. Not loyalty to the thing you started. Just an honest, ongoing read on whether this is still the best use of what you have.

The bush doesn’t have to go bad for it to be time to leave.

The Six Needs

Tony Robbins has been teaching this framework for decades, but it landed differently when I heard it in a recent Instagram reel from a Diary of a CEO podcast. (Watch the Instagram Reel)

We all have six core human needs:

1. Certainty.

2. Variety.

3. Significance.

4. Connection & love.

5. Growth.

6. Contribution.

The first four are everywhere. You can feel them being constantly sold to you.

Certainty is why you check your phone six times before bed. Variety is why you’re already bored with the thing you wanted three months ago. Significance is why people post on LinkedIn. Connection is why someone is telling their relationship problems to an AI that agrees with everything they say.

None of that is inherently wrong. But Tony calls the final two the spiritual needs — not religious, just the ones that sit at a different level. And here’s the thing most people never clock: you can meet the first four completely and still feel empty.

What “Meeting a Need” Actually Costs You

The problem with certainty, variety, significance, and connection is that they can all be met cheaply.

Text instead of call. Scroll instead of build—post instead of produce. Agree instead of grow. The friction is gone and so is the substance.

I have lived the version of busy that looks fine from the outside and feels hollow from the inside. I’ve lived in it. Everything ticking over, nothing actually moving. The work equivalent of treading water and calling it swimming.

The Ones That Actually Matter

Tony says if you’re not growing, you start to die inside. Not metaphorically — structurally. Everything in the universe grows or dies. A relationship that’s not growing is, by definition, declining. A business that’s not growing is losing ground even when the numbers look stable due to cost cutting into magins. You feel this before you can prove it.

But growth alone isn’t the full circuit. It’s the setup. You grow so you have something to give.

Contribution is where meaning lives. Not the significance of being seen — the actual act of making something better. Whether that’s your industry, your team, your family, or just the person across the table from you.

These two needs, Tony says, have no downside. You can’t over-invest in growth and contribution. Every other need has a trap built into it. These two don’t.

Build Something

The instruction at the end of his point was one word: build.

Not optimise. Not manage. Not protect what you have.

Build. Because the act of building forces both — you grow by doing it, and if it’s worth anything, other people benefit.

I don’t think this is a productivity insight. It’s closer to a question worth sitting with: what are you actually building right now, and will it matter?

If the answer is unclear, that might be the whole answer.

I used to call that luck. I don’t anymore.

Nassim Taleb has a name for it — positive optionality. Stop narrowing toward one outcome. Expand your surface area so that good things have somewhere to land.

Most people do the opposite. Lock in early, cut everything that doesn’t feed The Goal, grind in a straight line. Feels disciplined. And it works — until it doesn’t, because you’ve built a strategy with no peripheral vision and no room for the unexpected.

The Maths Nobody Checks

Rory Sutherland made an observation I haven’t been able to shake: most people chase goals where the cost of entry already outweighs the prize.

A hundred people in the world make serious money from tennis. Everyone else is funding the dream through years of coaching and lost income. The prize is real. The odds aren’t.

I see it in property constantly. Everyone wants to be a developer, a syndicator, a high-end agent. The money’s real there too. But the cycle windows are short, the cost of entry keeps rising, and the people actually capturing the upside almost always got lucky with timing and didn’t realise it.

The goal looked achievable from the outside. The maths said otherwise.

The Honest Question

Morgan Housel writes that most financial decisions are identity decisions in disguise. People don’t want the outcome — they want to be the kind of person who achieved it.

If that’s the goal, the cost of entry is irrelevant. You’ll keep paying it regardless of the return.

So ask yourself: would you still do the work if the specific outcome never came?

If yes — the maths don’t matter much. If no — they matter a lot.

Most of the best things to date didn’t announce themselves in advance. Take the call.

Real research has no logical stopping point. You go deeper because you’re genuinely trying to understand something — not because you have a meeting on Thursday and need something to say.

Coffee is a good example. Most people drink it. Some people taste a hundred, read every expert, test every machine, and walk away with a barista certification they'll never use professionally. That's not a hobby. That's the researcher identity in action.

Fanatical depth on anything you care about.

It sounds a bit unhinged when applied to espresso. It sounds like an edge when applied to a deal.

The brokers and investors who consistently outperform aren’t operating with better information. They’re operating with more of it — because they kept going after everyone else stopped. They know the asset better than the vendor. They’ve already found the problem buried in page 47 of the financials. They’d spoken with three operators in that market before the first meeting.

They’re not performing expertise. They have it.

Here’s the thing nobody talks about: this only works as an identity, not a tactic.

You can’t decide to “do more research” on a deal-by-deal basis and expect the same result. The people who are genuinely good at this don’t gear up for it — depth is just how they operate. The curiosity isn’t switched on. It’s the default.

And that’s the gap. Most people do enough to get comfortable. Researchers do enough to actually know.

Which side of that line are you on?

NB.

“Just checking in if you thought any more about what we discussed.”

Polite. Brief. Professional. And the deal was suddenly off the table.

That’s reactance. The moment someone senses their freedom to choose is being monitored, even gently, they pull back. In high-net-worth clients, the threshold is even lower. These are people with a strong internal locus of control. They decide on their own terms. A follow-up email two days later doesn’t read as service. It reads as surveillance.

Most clients don’t consciously connect the email to the cooling. They tell themselves they didn’t really need it. That they’ll come back to it. They almost never identify the follow-up as the thing that killed the deal. The salesperson never knows either.

Here’s the fix.

Follow up the same day — while the meeting is still warm and before private deliberation begins. Keep it short. Acknowledge the human exchange. Then add one specific piece of information framed as your own thinking continuing after they left:

“It crossed my mind after we spoke that something we didn’t quite cover off, if you would like to know more. I’ll send details when I have them.”

No questions. No booking a call. No asking for anything.

That phrase, ‘it crossed my mind’, does real work. It signals that you were thinking about them when they weren’t in front of you. That’s what care looks like. And the promise of future contact tied to a specific event pre-installs permission for the next message. When it arrives two weeks later, it’s not a follow-up. It’s the fulfilment of a promise. The autonomy was never touched.

The difference between a salesperson who loses deals at the follow-up and one who doesn’t isn’t effort. It’s timing and framing. One chases. The other continues.

If you set resolutions on the 1st of January, statistically, most of them have already been quietly shelved. Not because you lack discipline or drive — but because most goals were designed to be carried alone. And solo weight gets heavy fast.

When we talk about goals. We treat them like private matters. Personal projects. Things we will get around to when the timing is right, when we have more capacity, when life settles down. But life does not settle down. And 20% of the year has already passed like a lightning strike.

Here is what I have noticed working in a field built entirely on relationships: the things that actually get done are rarely done alone. Every deal I have ever closed involved a network of people — buyers, vendors, solicitors, financiers, advisors — each playing a specific role at a specific moment. The outcome was never the work of a single person. It was assembled.

Your personal goals are no different.

That book you want to write needs a reader who will give you honest feedback. The business idea needs someone who has done it before. The fitness goal needs a training partner who will show up even when you do not feel like it. The investment you keep researching but never pulling the trigger on — that needs a conversation with someone who has already made the move.

The missing ingredient is rarely information. It is usually people.

So with 80% of the year still ahead, I want to ask you something worth sitting with:

You do not have to have it all figured out. You just have to be willing to say it out loud.

NB.

The smarter play is to sell while the business is trending upward. When a buyer can see consistent growth and a strong trajectory, they don’t just price the business on what it’s worth today. They price it on what it could be worth with perfect execution over the next three years — and then they hand you that valuation without you having to deliver it.

That’s the momentum premium. And it’s one of the most underutilised levers in a business exit.

The second part of the equation is what you do with the proceeds. The goal isn’t to keep grinding for a larger number. It’s to take that actively earned capital off the table at the right moment and deploy it into passive compounding assets and/or your next strategic endevor.

From that point, your money works without you.

The cycle is simple: build actively, exit on momentum, deploy into passive compounding, and begin building again. Each cycle stacks on the last. Your net worth grows not from a single massive outcome, but from consistent, well-timed exits that compound over time.

Playing for doubles and triples, reinvested intelligently, will outperform swinging for the fences the vast majority of the time. The goal isn’t the biggest exit. It’s the biggest nest egg.

It’s easy to treat the beginning of the year as a warm-up. A slow start. A series of “I’ll get to it” promises. But the math doesn’t care about our intentions. 5.5% is gone.

We often wait for the “perfect” moment to begin our best work. We wait for the middle of the year, the next quarter, or a clearer sky.

But the plane is already in the air. We are already in motion.

The question isn’t how much time is left. The question is what we do with the 94.5% that remains if we are lucky to see all of 2026.

Go.

NB

Anthony Bourdain once wrote;

“It seems that the more places I see and experience, the bigger I realise the world to be. The more I become aware of, the more I realise how relatively little I know of it, how many places I have still to go, how much more there is to learn. Maybe that’s enlightenment enough - to know that there is no final resting place of the mind, no moment of smug clarity. Perhaps wisdom, such as it is, means realising how small I am, and unwise, and how far I have yet to go.”

I’ve thought about this a lot this year. Two more stamps in the passport - Vietnam and India, and spent a lot of time driving in Australia, and the paradox becomes clearer. The world doesn’t shrink when you explore it. You do. And that’s not a bad thing.

On Letting Go (Or Not)

This year, I realised I have a tough time letting go of people I care about.

There’s no neat lesson here. No three-step framework. Just the uncomfortable truth that caring deeply makes everything else harder. The goodbyes linger longer. The what-ifs stack up higher. The people who matter continue to matter, even when geography or circumstance suggests they shouldn’t.

I’m still working on this one.

On Not Being Alone

For the first time in my professional life, I worked alongside a colleague. Not just shared office space or traded emails, but actual daily mentoring, collaboration, the whole thing.

Turns out the lone wolf thing I’d perfected over the years wasn’t the ceiling. It was just comfortable.

The daily push, the shared wins, the realisation that “what could be accomplished together” wasn’t just motivational poster nonsense - it rewired how I think about work. About capacity. About what’s possible when you stop treating collaboration like a weakness.

On Operating at 60%

Here’s what I know: if I managed what I managed this year, feeling the way I felt, running at maybe 60% capacity on the good days, then god help the world if I get back to full strength.

I wouldn’t bet against me.

That’s not bravado. It’s pattern recognition. It’s looking at the deals closed, the countries visited, the lessons learned, the relationships navigated - all while carrying weight that would’ve flattened the younger version of me - and thinking: “Alright then. What happens when this actually gets easy?”

On Being SINK

Single Income, No Kids.

The acronym makes it sound like a demographic category or a tax bracket. Really, it’s just shorthand for “designed my life on purpose and it looks different than yours.”

And life is good.

Not perfect. Not without the challenging bits mentioned above. But good in the way that matters - the freedom to say yes to India, to build something meaningful at work, to sit with the hard stuff without needing to have it solved by year-end.

On 2026

If I’m able to take from all of the past lessons learned, I feel like 2026 is going to be the best one yet.

Life is a compounding beast. The longer you stay in the game, the greater the returns. You’ve just got to stick it through the messy middle, the tough quarters, the days when 60% feels generous.

Every conversation that went sideways taught me how to communicate better. Every deal that stalled taught me where to apply pressure. Every goodbye that hurt taught me what actually matters. Every collaboration showed me what leverage really looks like.

The passport’s getting fuller. The network’s getting stronger. The clarity’s getting sharper.

New trips on the radar. New capacity coming online. Same commitment to the people who stuck around through this weird year.

The world’s bigger than I thought. I’m smaller than I thought. The work matters more than I thought. The returns are compounding. 2026 is going to be something special.

NB.

Think about this: fear and excitement produce identical physical responses – increased heart rate, elevated adrenaline levels, heightened awareness. Your body is simply preparing for something significant. The only difference is the story your mind tells about those sensations.

When you’re stuck in the thinking phase, your brain has time to catastrophise. It imagines every possible failure, every way things could go wrong. That’s the mountain of fear you see on the left side of the curve.

But once you cross into doing, something shifts. The same physiological state that felt like fear suddenly becomes a state of growth. You’re too busy executing to catastrophise. The sensations don’t change—your interpretation does.

This is why action is the antidote to anxiety. Not because the doing is easy, but because it transforms the same biological response from paralysing to propelling.

The vertical line isn’t a barrier. It’s a choice.

Stop asking whether you’re ready. Your body’s already given you the same signal it provides when you're excited. The only question is which story you’re going to tell yourself about it.

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Subscribe now

That’s it.

Not grinding 18-hour days. Not being the smartest person in the room. Not having the perfect strategy.

Just being someone that opportunities stick to.

These are the traits that compound to success:

• Be reliable

• Avoid drama

• Help other people win

• Take care of your body

• Take care of your mind

• Live below your means

• Treat your job as if it matters

• Take care of your relationships

Simple? Yes.

Easy? Not even close.

But here’s what happens when you do these things consistently: doors open. People remember you. Opportunities find you instead of you chasing them.

Most people are waiting for the big break, the perfect moment, the right connection.

Meanwhile, the winners are just doing the tedious work consistently and becoming the kind of person to whom good things happen.

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“It’s tempting to want the best of all four, but it’s going to take effort and focus. All of these terms are relative choices, not absolute judgments. Where does your offering fit in?”
— Seth Godin, New and Old, Big and Small

In business and in life, we’re often pulled between scale and focus, innovation and tradition. The real challenge is deciding which mix truly aligns with our purpose — not chasing every corner of the grid.

I’ve been thinking about how this applies to [insert your context — e.g. the accommodation and investment space, or your current projects]. Big brands often chase “new and big,” but enduring operators build strength by mastering “old and small” — refining, not expanding.

The key is intentionality: know your quadrant and own it.

Read the original on Seth’s Blog →

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I’m pleased to announce that I’ve exclusively listed the franchises of Quest Chermside and Quest Chermside on Playfield for sale through ResortBrokers. Together, these two well-established apartment hotels represent one of the most exciting accommodation opportunities currently available in Brisbane’s inner north.

The portfolio comprises 132 apartments — the 54-key Quest Chermside and the 78-key Quest Chermside on Playfield — offered in one line for $6.96 million. The businesses have been operated by the current owner since April 2018 and October 2015 respectively.

Owning both franchises allows an incoming operator to consolidate operations, streamline marketing, and establish market leadership across one of Brisbane’s most strategic suburban hubs. These assets sit in the heart of Chermside’s city-fringe growth corridor — adjacent to Westfield Chermside, major health and employment nodes, and Brisbane’s northern transport links.

Quest has consistently demonstrated strong strategic foresight in site selection, and these two properties are no exception. Both outperform Brisbane’s average occupancy levels — with Quest Chermside on Playfield exceeding the market by more than 10 percentage points.

This offering follows my recent sales of Quest Townsville on Eyre, Quest Woolloongabba, and Quest Toowoomba, underscoring the strong and ongoing demand for quality Quest operations across Queensland.

If you’d like more information about the Quest Chermside portfolio or wish to discuss acquisition structure and timing, please get in touch.

As first published in The Hotel Conversation on 27 October 2025.

NB.

“Intelligence isn’t just about what you know. It is also the ability to avoid being your own bottleneck.

• If you lack the skills, be willing to look foolish while you learn them.

• If you lack the connections, be courageous enough to reach out and build them.

• If you feel uncertain, be bold enough to figure it out along the way.

Many people have the ability, but they talk themselves out of trying.”

In any business, especially one driven by relationships and momentum, this is a reminder that overthinking can be the biggest drag on progress.

Start before you’re ready. Learn in motion. Build while moving forward.

You can subscribe to James Clear’s 3-2-1 Thursday newsletter here.

Cheers,

NB.

Winning all the time might sound ideal — but it rarely is.
We learn more from challenge than we do from comfort, and that truth has stuck with me ever since I first saw The Twilight Zone.

It’s strange to say, but some of the most enduring life lessons have come not from mentors or books, but from that iconic black-and-white series. It’s even where I first saw Robert Redford act — long before the movie-star polish. The stories in The Twilight Zone had a way of simplifying complex truths.

One episode in particular stands out.

A man — a criminal — is shot and dies. He wakes up in what seems to be heaven. Every woman he meets says yes. Every hand at the blackjack table is a win. There are long queues at the best restaurants, yet he’s ushered right in without waiting. He has everything he ever wanted, instantly.

But before long, the thrill wears off. He becomes restless. Frustrated. He turns to his mysterious host and says, “Come on — this is supposed to be heaven.” The host smiles and replies:
“My brother, this is not heaven.”

That’s the point.

The greatest “yes” moments in life — the most meaningful wins — usually follow a string of no’s. Without resistance, growth stops. Without contrast, pleasure fades. When everything comes easy, nothing feels valuable.

✦ Takeaway

If you’re not hearing “no” often, you’re probably playing too safe. The good stuff — the life-defining wins — only land when you’ve earned them. That’s what makes them stick.

Earn your wins.

Cheers,

NB

At the recent Best Western Hotels Conference held in Brisbane 2025, I sat on the sustainability panel and shared some insights on what we are seeing in the market. Operators who have been investing in sustainability aren’t just doing the right thing — they’re seeing real financial rewards.

In a market where operating costs are rising across energy, labour and waste, vendors with solar, smarter waste systems, and streamlined housekeeping are running leaner — and selling stronger.

And buyers are paying attention. These moves are now bankable — improving NOI and enhancing sale price at exit.

Sustainability’s not just a checkbox. It’s a business edge.

I recently jumped back behind the mic with Trudy Crooks and Paul Chiu for another episode of RB Radio – the ResortBrokers podcast – and this one’s worth a listen if you’re in the thick of the accommodation game, looking to buy, or just curious about what’s happening across the hotel, motel, and Management Rights markets right now.

🎧 Listen here:

RB Radio Episode

What’s inside?

We cover a bit of everything in this one:

• - My own shift from Central Queensland to the Brisbane accommodation market – what’s different, what’s the same, and how the buyer pool’s evolving

• - Some big-picture insights from Paul at CLAS Financial – a legend in the finance game with 20+ years under his belt

• - Why finance conversations need to start early in any deal (and how good packaging makes all the difference with the banks)

• - How management rights are tracking, how caravan parks are trending, and where buyers are getting caught out in the current market

It’s a relaxed chat but packed with useful stuff for brokers, buyers, owners, and anyone keeping an eye on how the sector is shifting.

If you give it a listen, let me know what you think – always keen to hear how others are navigating things out there.

Catch you soon,

Nathan

Risk, discipline, failure, patience, and sacrifice—these aren't options on a sliding scale. They're toggles. They're either fully engaged or they're off.

Procrastination and excuses? The same rules apply. They're either on or off. You can't partially procrastinate your way to success, nor can you sometimes make excuses and expect meaningful results.

Success demands clarity. It requires the decisive flicking of switches, with a full awareness of what each action means.

So, check your settings. What have you left on, and more importantly, what should you finally switch off?

I'm rooting for you.

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