Built in a small business

Growing up in a small rural town in Ireland, I spent my teens working in my father’s home furnishings business — furniture and carpets — helping with after-school deliveries and weekend carpet fittings before moving into the shop floor, where I’d help customers choose floor coverings and furniture for their homes. My father ran the business for over 40 years, and my mother ran her hair salon next door to our home, having taken it over from her own mother, and my grandfather ran his own barbershop — entrepreneurship was simply part of our family’s DNA. 

One of the sharpest lessons came during a housing boom when the business was growing fast and demand was outpacing everything. The bank overdraft was maxed, stock was needed, and payments started bouncing — not because the business wasn’t busy, but because we’d extended too much trust to customers who hadn’t yet paid. Suddenly, my father and I were spending every weekend reconciling accounts and sending multiple reminders and, in some cases, calling to homes chasing payments. It was stressful, humbling, and ultimately a turning point that shaped how I think about cash flow and customer accountability to this day.

My father had a saying he lived by: Never put off until tomorrow what can be done today, because there will always be more to do. That bias for action and the discipline it takes to stay ahead — rather than react — has stayed with me throughout my career. But equally important was learning that listening to what a customer actually needs, rather than trying to fit them to a product, is the foundation of any lasting business relationship. In a small town, your reputation travels fast, and every unsatisfied customer is a reminder that trust is your most valuable asset — something that’s just as true in global commerce as it was on the shop floor in rural Ireland.

I grew up in Dallas, Texas, the daughter of Indian immigrants. My mother created a company that specializes in resort wear combining Indian heritage with modern fashion and high-end Indian-influence jewelry, and my dad founded a luxury furniture and access business sourced from India, Africa and the Middle East. As a kid, I worked in both, writing up invoices, talking to customers and helping out at the occasional show, and spent two summers in my early 20s in sales with my dad. 

There isn’t one single memory but rather a cascade of moments that reinforced to me that running a small business is really only about one thing: fostering strong relationships. The depth of my parents’ relationship to customers, suppliers and employees always struck me. Customers would stay at our home and we at theirs. My parents would go to the weddings of their suppliers and celebrate life milestones with their employees. It became clear to me that small business is deeply personal. That why when I think of our work with small businesses, I don’t think about them only as the backbone of economies but the heart of communities.

Business is about people. Connecting with them, understanding their needs and listening actively are more critical than any technical skill or qualification. That’s why I try to take a people-first leadership approach.

My grandfather borrowed $225 to start the Louis Zahn Drug Company in Chicago and turned it into one of the country’s largest pharmaceutical wholesalers. As a child, I rode along the conveyor belt in the shipping boxes. In high school and college, I packed pharmacy orders, processed billing and data for independent drugstores, and fed punch cards into the company's early computer systems. Growing up around the business gave me a front-row seat to entrepreneurship in action — and to the small, independent pharmacies that meant so much to the communities they served.

I grew up watching my grandfather run the business. He was rough. He was tough. It was a very successful business, so you could say it worked for him. At the same time, I remember thinking that if I ever ran a business or managed people, I’d do it differently. You have to be tough sometimes, but there also has to be a softer side. I also watched my mother — who was every bit as capable as the men in the family — navigate the lower expectations that were common at the time. It was very old-fashioned, but that was the way things went. I vowed that gender would never be a reason to judge anyone’s ability. 

My grandfather started a business out of the trunk of his car with no one to help him. I watched how he built this business from the ground up without a lot of support. I believe that it takes an ecosystem of partners working together to help entrepreneurs not just survive but thrive. At Mastercard, it’s not just about selling products. It’s about providing support to our partners so they can do better for their small business customers. It’s about consistently laying the groundwork so all boats can rise. I want the work we do to make that journey a little easier for the entrepreneurs building something of their own.

The bakery in Yonkers, New York, owned and operated by my grandfather, was the kind of place where everyone in the family chipped in, and you were paid in pastries! An immigrant and U.S. Army veteran who learned how to cook during his wartime service, my grandfather took every ounce of resilience and dedication he had and poured his heart into serving his family and the community. Without data to understand consumer preferences, or technology to scale, he used AI (actual intelligence), his intuition and his own hands to build a brand that was known for quality and brought joy to people’s lives.

When the volume of business became too big for his space, he needed to expand. He pivoted from kneading dough to needing dough — finding capital to acquire new real estate, purchase equipment and hire employees. Although he was accustomed to hard work, with 3 a.m. wake-up calls and 15-hour days, expansion required him to step back from doing all the physical work to operating the business. This was not easy, as his passion was his art of baking, not operations. But his aspirations required a shift, and he rose to the challenge.

Working hard, linking passion with skill sets, possessing fierce dedication to the communities one serves — these are clear takeaways that have stayed with me. The willingness to evolve skill sets, take risks without having all the answers, pivot from “doing” to directing and as such, making decisions without full information — these are equally valuable lessons. Above all, I take away the importance of people: those who we work with, for and on behalf of. My grandfather’s small business thrived because he put people at the center. This lesson resonates irrespective of geography, culture, segment or size of business. It’s what drives my purpose — and Mastercard’s mission — each and every day.