Let me shoot straight with you.
A couple years ago, I was sitting in the back booth of my favorite neighborhood diner—one of those places with cracked red leather seats and a waitress named Linda who still calls you “hon.” I had a half-eaten tuna melt in front of me and a yellow legal pad covered in scribbles. I was trying to map out how the heck I was going to sell the small but mighty business I’d spent nearly a decade building.
Now, I’ll be the first to admit—I’m no stranger to handling things myself. I grew this company from nothing but a half-baked idea and a heap of student loan debt. So the thought of bringing in a business broker, someone else to help me sell my baby? Felt weird. Kinda like asking a stranger to auction off your wedding ring. 😬
But I’d heard enough mixed advice—from forums, friends, and those ever-opinionated LinkedIn folks—that I figured I’d give it a go. Here’s how it all played out (plus what I wish someone told me before I started).
What Even Is a Business Broker?
Let’s get this part out of the way.
A business broker is basically like a real estate agent, but instead of selling houses, they sell businesses. They help you value your business, find qualified buyers, negotiate the deal, and (hopefully) make the entire process less of a migraine.
Think of them as your translator, therapist, matchmaker, and negotiator rolled into one. At least, that’s how the good ones operate.
But here’s the kicker: not all brokers are created equal. Some are rockstars, and some… let’s just say they’d sell your business for a Waffle House gift card if it meant a quick commission. 🤷♂️
Why I Thought I Could Do It Without One (Spoiler: I Couldn’t)
Originally, I was convinced I’d save money by going solo. I read the books. I downloaded the templates. I even started writing my own teaser documents like I was Don Draper pitching to Coca-Cola.
Turns out, I was in over my head faster than a dog in a bathtub.
Valuing a business isn’t as simple as slapping a multiple on your revenue and calling it a day. Buyers ask questions you never think about—like churn rate, adjusted EBITDA, transition support, and (my personal favorite) “what’s your customer acquisition cost over a rolling twelve months?”
Uh… can I get back to you on that?
After a few awkward Zoom calls with prospective buyers and one particularly painful experience with a guy who wanted to pay in cryptocurrency and llamas (true story, I wish it wasn’t), I realized I needed help.
Enter: the broker.
The Broker I Chose (And Why I Picked Them)
I interviewed three different brokers. One seemed more interested in his golf game than my goals. Another kept name-dropping companies he almost worked with (“We were this close to representing WeWork”). Pass.
The third? She was a former small business owner herself. Sharp as a tack, but kind of like that cool aunt who drinks scotch and gives unfiltered advice. She immediately pointed out five things in my financials I’d overlooked, including one mistake that could’ve tanked the whole deal.
She didn’t sugarcoat things. She didn’t overpromise. But she listened—and she actually cared about finding the right buyer, not just the fastest one.
I was sold.
What a Business Broker Actually Does (Behind the Scenes)
Once we signed the listing agreement, it was like she slipped into a secret agent role.
Here’s what she handled (so I didn’t have to):
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Valuation: She created a realistic asking price based on comps, cash flow, and industry benchmarks. Not the number I wanted—but the one buyers would actually pay.
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Marketing the Business: She crafted a killer blind profile (a kind of anonymous flyer that gets buyers interested) and listed it on several marketplaces I didn’t even know existed.
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Screening Tire-Kickers: This part was golden. She filtered out the time-wasters who just wanted to poke around in my books. Only legit buyers made it through.
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Negotiating the Deal: Watching her negotiate made me feel like I was watching a courtroom drama. She knew every tactic and stayed calm even when I was sweating bullets.
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Due Diligence & Closing: She guided me through every doc, every disclosure, and even introduced me to a lawyer who specialized in small business sales.
All I had to do was keep the business running and try not to freak out. (Easier said than done.)
Was It Worth the Commission?
Here’s the part everyone wants to know.
Yes, the commission was chunky. She took 10% of the sale price, which made my wallet wince at first. But—and this is a huge but—she negotiated the deal above my original asking price. 🏆
So after all the dust settled, I actually made more money using her than I would’ve trying to sell on my own. And maybe more importantly, I didn’t lose my sanity in the process.
She also saved me from two deals that looked good on paper but would’ve gone sideways fast. That alone was worth the price of admission.
What I’d Tell a Friend Who’s Thinking About It
If you’re even thinking about selling your business, I’d say this:
Talk to a broker early. Even if you don’t hire one right away, just pick their brain. The good ones will give you some real talk—no strings attached.
Trying to sell on your own might feel noble or scrappy or “entrepreneurial,” but unless you’ve sold a business before, it’s like trying to navigate a jungle with a butter knife. 🌴🔪
At the very least, a broker will tell you if your business is even ready to sell—and what to fix if it’s not.
Final Thoughts (From One Business Owner to Another)
Selling my business was one of the most emotionally weird, logistically complex, and financially nerve-wracking things I’ve ever done. But it also turned out to be one of the most rewarding.
And I couldn’t have done it without someone who knew the ropes, had the network, and knew how to close a deal without making it feel like a used car sale.
So… is hiring a business broker worth it?
For me, absolutely. No question.
But pick the right one. Trust your gut. Ask dumb questions. And don’t settle for someone who treats your business like it’s just another listing on a spreadsheet.
Because if you built it with love and sweat (and probably a few all-nighters and mild existential crises), it deserves a proper sendoff.
P.S. If you’re going through this yourself and need a sounding board, shoot me a message. I can’t promise much, but I can promise I’ve been there.
And I won’t suggest you accept llamas as payment. 😅
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