Not My Circus, Not My… Wait. Damn. These Are My Monkeys!

You ever hear that saying?
“Not my circus, not my monkeys.”
It’s what people say when they’re washing their hands of a mess they didn’t make.

Problem is, most operators don’t get to say that.
Because nine times out of ten—it is your circus. And those are your monkeys.

Welcome to the Jungle, Boss

You built the business.
You hired the team.
You priced the work, bought the gear, and promised the customer it’d get done.

So when the crew’s showing up late, the customer’s pissed, the van’s leaking oil, and the books are a mess?
You don’t get to point fingers.
You don’t get to hide behind “my guys” or “the economy” or “no one wants to work anymore.”

That’s your name on the side of the truck.
Which means it’s your damn monkey show.

I Bought a Business Once…

Let me tell you a quick one.
I bought a pool cleaning company in Central Florida a few years back.
As part of due diligence, I walked the properties with the seller. We get to this upscale resort—fountains, cabanas, mermaid statues, the whole nine yards.

But the pool equipment area?
Looked like a third-world scrapyard.

I’m talking:

• Broken chemical tubing hanging like spaghetti
• Cracked acid jugs tossed in the corner
• Old cardboard melting into the slab
• Soda cans, cigarette butts, candy wrappers—just pure neglect

I look at the seller, eyebrows raised.

I ask, “Did the customer never walk this site with your techs? Or never complain about this mess? Why not just clean it up on a slow day?”

He shrugs and says,

“Oh, it was like this when I took it over.”

I blinked.
“You’ve had this account twelve years, man.”

Twelve years. And still blaming the last guy.
That’s what denial looks like in the wild.

Stop Looking for Who to Blame

Blaming is cheap.
You can spend all day blaming your dispatcher, your field techs, your CRM, your spouse, your tax guy, your vendors, or the weather.

But none of that fixes the problem.
None of that pays the bills.
And none of that earns you any respect from the people watching you bleed.

The truth?
You built the machine. If it’s broken, that’s on you.

The Operator’s Trap

Here’s how it happens:

• You start the company.
• You do the work, sell the jobs, handle the calls.
• You get busy.
• You hire people.
• You stop doing the thing and start managing the chaos.

Now every problem starts to feel like it’s someone else’s fault.
But that’s a lie.

Every single problem in your business is either:

1. A systems problem you didn’t fix
2. A hiring problem you created
3. A training gap you allowed
4. A customer you should’ve never taken
5. A process you never clarified
6. A standard you failed to enforce

That’s all on you.
Even when it’s someone else doing it wrong.

Real Operators Take the Hit First

You want to be a real operator? Here’s the deal:
You own it all.

• If the job is underpriced, you priced it.
• If the tech’s untrained, you trained him—or didn’t.
• If the customer is calling with a complaint, it’s because you didn’t install enough trust to buy you silence.

I’ve cleaned up after screw-ups that weren’t mine.
I’ve paid for damage I didn’t cause.
I’ve apologized for things I didn’t do.

Why?
Because it was my circus. Those were my monkeys.

Burn the Excuse Book

Stop saying:

• “My guys just don’t care.”
• “The office messed it up again.”
• “This area is just tough for talent.”
• “Our CRM isn’t built for that.”
• “No one wants to work anymore.”

Bullshit.

Your guys don’t care?
Then you hired the wrong ones or built the wrong culture.

The office messed it up?
You didn’t build the system, or you didn’t enforce it.

CRM’s not built for that?
Then adapt or replace it.

This is the job.
This is what ownership looks like.

There Is No Cavalry

No consultant’s coming to save you.
No software’s going to fix your people.
No guru on YouTube is going to tell you something you don’t already suspect deep down.

It’s you. You’re the lever. You’re the risk. You’re the bottleneck.
And yeah—you’re the opportunity too.

Once you accept that, everything changes.
You stop managing symptoms.
You start solving root causes.

What Now?

Here’s the part where the seminar guy would say “raise your standards” and walk off stage.

Let me be clearer.

Do this instead:

1. List your biggest recurring problems. Be honest. Don’t sugarcoat.
2. Draw a line from each one back to you. Training, hiring, systems, pricing—trace it.
3. Kill the victim mindset. You’re not unlucky. You’re in control.
4. Fix one root cause per week. Not a quick fix. A structural change.
5. Repeat until the monkeys settle down.

Final Word

The saying isn’t wrong—
“Not my circus, not my monkeys” is a great boundary…

But if you’re the owner, the circus is yours. The monkeys are yours.
You feed them, train them, and yes, clean up after them.

That’s the price of owning the tent.

The upside?
When you run a tight show, you keep every dollar, build every asset, and call every shot.

But it starts with owning the mess.

No more pointing fingers.
Get back in the ring.

It’s your damn circus.
Make it worth the ticket price.