How I Chose my Online Business in Retirement (And No, I’m Not Trying to Be an Influencer)
When friends ask why I’m “still doing all this online stuff” instead of putting my feet up and working my way through every café and garden centre in the county, I usually trot out the respectable answer:
“Oh, it keeps my brain active.”
Which is true. But it’s only half the story.
The real reason is much less glamorous:
I’ve seen what happens when you need care in later life… and the bill arrives.
I watched my parents go from managing at home with carers, to my dad eventually needing a care home. The home itself was lovely – the sort of place you’d actually want him to be in. He’d worked hard all his life and absolutely deserved it.
But as the months went by, I watched his savings quietly evaporate.
And he watched them too.
He knew that what he’d built over 60 years of early mornings and hard work was disappearing into care costs. That financial stress weighed on him more than his physical problems.
Another relative relied on “the state will look after me” and ended up somewhere I wouldn’t choose for anyone.
So no, I’m not building an online business just for fun. I want the choice to pay for decent care if I ever need it in future – without relying on distant politicians or the generosity of my offspring.
That’s the sensible, grown‑up reason. Now let me tell you about the ridiculous route I took to get there.
My First Online Misadventure: Building Someone Else’s Empire
Coming out of forty years running my own software business (where I was also the support desk, the complaints department and the person who answered the phone even at 1:30am – yes really), I knew exactly what I didn’t want in retirement:
- No more being on call around the clock.
- No more “emergency” phone calls that absolutely could have waited until morning.
- And definitely no more being the only person who knows how everything works.
So naturally, I went online and did… the opposite.
I fell headfirst into a very clever funnel that somebody else had built. It looked perfect:
- He’d done all the tech.
- He had a lovely set of pages and emails.
- My job was simply to send people into his system.
It felt like a shortcut.
Until I looked at the numbers.
For all the effort of promoting this thing, I was earning sums like 25 cents or 50 cents per person per month. That’s not “coffee money”; that’s “don’t even bother washing your mug” money.
My team members noticed too. They worked hard, looked at their commissions, and quietly exited stage left. I, meanwhile, was running around trying to replace them – for the grand prize of… another 50 cents.
Then the funnel owner decided, as was his right, to change the whole thing and add programs I didn’t want to touch, including crypto.
So there I was, with months of work wrapped around this lovely, shiny funnel, and suddenly I had two choices:
- Promote things I didn’t believe in, or
- Scrap the whole lot and start again.
That’s when the penny finally dropped:
- If it’s their funnel, they can change it whenever they like.
- If your whole business depends on their funnel, you don’t actually have a business.
You’re just free marketing for someone who DOES have their own.
So, with a combination of frustration and relief, I walked away.
The “Be Everywhere” Burnout Tour
While all that was going on, I was also trying to follow another popular piece of online advice:
“You have to be everywhere!”
Apparently, if you’re not simultaneously posting on Facebook, TikTok, Instagram, YouTube, and possibly skywriting your offers across the clouds, you’re doing it wrong.
So I tried to be everywhere:
- Posting constantly.
- Jumping between platforms.
- Trying to beat each algorithm.
- Learning new features I didn’t want and would forget by tomorrow.
It turns out “everywhere” is exhausting.
My little online side‑hustle was starting to feel harder than my old full‑time business. I was chained to the computer, watching everyone else have a life.
Finally, the fog lifted and a revolutionary thought appeared:
“I don’t actually have to be everywhere.”
I gave myself permission to:
- Focus mainly on one platform.
- Stop trying to impress umpteen algorithms and start enjoying my life.
- Avoid doing live video, because I loathe it.
I had already forced myself to “go live” a few times. The experience nearly made me quit online marketing completely. I stumbled over my words, looked deeply suspicious, and wouldn’t have bought from myself, frankly.
If I don’t enjoy talking to a camera and I don’t want my own photo taken, why on earth did I think I’d love livestreaming to strangers?
So I decided:
- No more lives.
- Occasional photos, if I can stand them.
- Writing, email and simple content I actually enjoy. *
And funnily enough, the world did not end.
* Writing and email are the methods I enjoy. The choice is yours. If you’re a whizz on video, you’ll probably do far better than me!
What I Actually Wanted From an Online Business
Once I’d walked away from the complicated funnel and the “be everywhere” circus, I sat myself down and got brutally honest:
What kind of business do I want to be running in my seventies, not just next Tuesday?
Here’s what made the list:
-
Simple and self‑contained
One main business, not a wobbly tower of tiny offers glued together with hope and duct tape. -
Proper support (from someone who isn’t me)
I’ve already done forty years of being “the support desk”. This time, I wanted:- Training built in
- A community to answer questions
- Support for my customers that doesn’t depend on me being glued to my inbox
-
Decent commission, not loose change
If I’m going to recommend something, I want it to pay sensibly. With my current business, I earn 80% commission on a $25/month subscription. Two customers and I’m in profit. That makes far more sense than trying to build a small country to earn a fiver. -
The ability to disappear for yoga, line dancing and theatre trips
Monday Zoom yoga? Yes.
Tuesday line dancing? Absolutely.
Thursday is coffee morning with friends.
A spontaneous walk across the fields or a night at the theatre? Essential.
I wanted a business that doesn’t fall apart the moment I close the laptop. -
Recurring income I can actually rely on
No more chasing one‑off sales and starting from zero every month. I’m not hunting for a “magic button”; I just want a steady, realistic income that can quietly help cover future care if I ever need it.
- Not NEW!
I want a business that’s been around a good few years, with a proven record of paying out, not some trend that will fizzle out within a few months. - Doesn’t completely depend on social media
Algorithms change as quickly as other people’s funnels – and again, I have no control over them.
The Business That Finally Fit
Once I’d cleared away the clutter and the drama, I found something that actually ticked those boxes:
- One set of tools at a sensible monthly cost.
- 80% recurring commissions, so I don’t need an army of customers.
- Training and support baked in – for me and for anyone I introduce.
- A straightforward funnel I control, not one that belongs to somebody else.
- The freedom to run it with something as simple as one email a day.
And perhaps most importantly:
- I’ve cancelled a whole collection of expensive, underperforming “opportunities”.
- I’m no longer chained to the desk trying to be “everywhere”.
- I have time back to enjoy real life: yoga, line dancing, theatre, meals with friends, and walks in the countryside where my phone is mercifully silent.
My original goal was practical – to build an income that could help fund decent care if I ever need it. Along the way, I somehow created something even better:
A business that supports my current lifestyle, not just my future worries.
I don’t need to be a social media star. I don’t need to live‑stream my breakfast. I don’t need a million followers.
I just need a simple, well‑designed online business that:
- Pays properly,
- Doesn’t depend on me being 24/7 tech support,
- And fits neatly around the rest of my life.
If you’re retired (or heading that way) and dabbling with online income, the real question isn’t:
“Can I make money online?”
Plenty of people can – and do – often in extremely complicated, exhausting ways.
The better question is:
“Will this business still make sense for me when I’m older, tireder, and much more interested in afternoon tea than algorithms?”
It took me a long, twisty route (and far too many tiny commissions) to get there. But I’ve finally found something that does.
You can learn more about it by clicking here.
