Success On The Line
John Ilhan
Crazy John’s;
established 1991;
800 employees;
$200 million turnover
Think about how much
of
your working life is
spent sending and reading e- mails, then try to
guess how many hours a day a platinum- level
chief executive like ‘Crazy’ John Ilhan is tied to
his keyboard.
Try none. And that’s not because the mobile
mogul has chosen to retire and consume some
Photo: Alex Coppel
98 HOW I MADE MY FIRST MILLION
of his
$
300 million- plus fortune. No, the
Melbourne- based Ilhan simply refuses to use a
PC, hasn’t had one in his office for more than
five years, and blows a raspberry at the idea of
a BlackBerry. ‘Honestly, I wouldn’t even know
how to turn a computer on any more. If I
pretend to use one
at work the guys all start
laughing because they know I’ve got no idea,’
he explains.
Ilhan booted out his computer because ‘I was
losing so much of my day on it, losing business
partners, losing staff,’ he says. ‘I like to com-
municate by vision, by sight and verbally, and I
thought, I can’t keep doing this. So my executive
assistant, Amanda, took over. She reads every-
thing. She knows what I’m thinking and how I
do things.’
E- mails are presented to him in point form,
and Ilhan says everyone gets a response of some
kind—he just doesn’t have to write it. He’s not
big on paperwork, either. ‘I’ll never read any-
thing longer than three pages. I’m not good with
detail,’ Ilhan admits. Avoiding both forms of men-
tal clutter frees him up for the important stuff: ‘It
means I get to spend time doing the things that
really matter. I’d rather go around and visit stores,
meet with staff, get involved in training, be with
the guys on the front line, give them motivation.
SUCCESS ON THE LINE 99
That’s my drug. I was tied to the office. Now I
enjoy my job a whole lot more.’
For Ilhan, it’s
always been about
the personal touch.
He
has the patter
of a lifelong sales-
man but little of the
impersonal
fakery
most p eople associ-
ate with that role. In
short, he’s convinc-
ing. He must have been compellingly so back in
1991 when, aged twenty- five, he set up his first
mobile- phone shop. It contained precisely zero
mobile phones—except his own. ‘I only had
$
1000 in my pocket.
I borrowed about
$
2000
off Mum and Dad to buy a phone, and a lot of
my mates were tradesmen so they helped build
the place, which was basically just a bench with
brochures,’ he says. ‘I had enough money in my
pocket to buy one phone at a time—they were
thousands of dollars each still at that stage. So I
just sold off brochures. I’d sell a phone, shut the
shop and drive to the city and buy it for the cus-
tomer. I had to sell myself, because that’s all I had.
I was a bit naïve and young and stupid because,
when you worked the numbers, how could it
‘
‘
It means I get to spend
time doing the things that
really matter. I’d rather go
around
and visit stores,
meet with staff, get
involved in training, be
with the guys on the front
line, give them motivation.
That’s my drug.
100 HOW I MADE MY FIRST MILLION
work? But when you believe in yourself it’s not
the numbers that matter, it’s about, “I can sell.
P eople like me.” It’s
that young, naïve attitude,
and you just work like crazy.’
Ilhan, the Turkish- born, fiercely proud Aus-
tralian whose real first name is Mustapha, hasn’t
eased up on the work ethic since. Initially, he
laughs off suggestions that he once worked
eighteen- hour days. ‘No, it wouldn’t be that
much. Let’s see: I start at 7 a.m. and it would only
be, um, sixteen hours a day. But then I do usu-
ally go until midnight, so it probably is eighteen
hours. Oh my God! That’s a lot . . .’
But it’s mostly recreation, he explains: ‘When
you do something you love, it’s not really work.
And I’ve been doing it for sixteen years—it’s just
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