She'd had enough of waiting.
For years she'd watched the same thing go round in circles. The plan that lived in Dad's head and never made it onto paper. The kids who didn't know where they stood. The conversations that got started at the kitchen table and shelved before the kettle had boiled. She loved this family and she could feel it drifting, and one day she decided she wasn't going to sit on her hands any longer.
So she did something.
She rang the accountant. She rang the lawyer. She got everyone in a room — Dad, the kids, the professionals, the whole lot — sat them down, and effectively opened with the biggest question in the business.
Right. What does everyone want?
And the room went cold.
Nobody had prepped. Nobody had thought it through. The kids didn't know if they were allowed to say the thing they actually wanted, or whether saying it would start a war. Dad felt ambushed in front of two blokes he pays by the hour. Everyone gave the safe answer, the room emptied out, the accountant sent his invoice — and the family closed up tighter than it had been before she started.
She meant well. She meant everything well. And she made it worse.
I see this more than almost anything else in the families I work with. Not bad people. Not people who don't care. People who care enormously, finally decide to act, and reach for completely the wrong move at completely the wrong time. Good intentions. Bad execution.
Here's the analogy I keep coming back to.
Imagine you've decided this is the year you're going to get a cracking crop out of your worst paddock. So you go and buy the best seed money can buy. Certified, top variety, the good gear. You service the air seeder. You line up the agronomist. Everything a good operator's supposed to do.
And then you drill it straight into ground you never worked.
No prep. No moisture check. Weeds still in it, hardpan underneath, last season's stubble choking the row. And you stand at the gate a few months later scratching your head, wondering why the best seed in the district gave you nothing.
That's what Mum did. The accountant and the lawyer? That's the premium seed. The legal structures, the tax planning, the succession documents — all of it, the best inputs going around. But she drilled it into a family that had never been prepared. No shared understanding. No alignment. No worked ground for any of it to take root in.
I banged on about this a few months back — the soil is the family's alignment, and nothing you plant grows until it's right. This is the same lesson, one row over. It doesn't matter how good your professionals are. It doesn't matter how expensive the advice is. If the family hasn't done the groundwork first — if everyone's not facing the same horizon before they walk into that room — you're seeding into concrete.
And here's the part that stings. The professionals can only ever work with what you bring them. Bring them a family that's aligned, and they're worth every cent — they'll turn a clear plan into a bulletproof one. Bring them a family that's never had the honest conversation, and you've just paid two experts to watch your family avoid each other in a nicer room.
The lawyer and the accountant aren't the first move. They're one of the last. They're the seed you drill after the paddock's ready — not the thing you reach for because it feels like progress.
So if you're the one in your family who can feel the drift — and there's almost always one of you who can — good on you for wanting to act. That instinct is right. Most families never get even that far. But wanting to help and knowing how to help aren't the same thing, and the difference between them is where a lot of well-meaning families come unstuck.
Don't book the room first. Prepare the ground first.
Because your family won't remember that you meant well.
They'll remember how it felt to be in that room.
Good intentions won't save you. Good execution will.
Recently, a dozen families joined us for our High Performing Families Roadmap Workshop. It's where every family needs to start — the ground prep, before anyone books the room.
We're now taking waitlist applications for our 2027 Roadmap Workshop. If you can feel the drift in your own family and want to be in the paddock next year instead of watching from the gate, join the waitlist at www.agricoach.com.au/takeaction. You'll be the first to know when the next workshop is announced.
Talk soon, Ben
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Disclaimer: The information contained in this article is general in nature and for education purposes only. It is not financial advice. No one should act on the information without appropriate specific advice for your particular circumstances. Ben Law is a former financial advisor but is no longer licensed and cannot and will not give you specific or personal advice in this article. The Financial Bloke Group Pty Ltd accepts no responsibility for any loss or damage occasioned by any person acting or refraining from action as a result of reliance on the information in this article.