Our family business is built around a seaport on one of Vietnam’s most well-known tourism islands. Over the years, we have grown from a traditional port operator into an integrated supply and logistics partner for major infrastructure and real estate developers on the island. I am currently the Deputy Director in charge of operations. Interestingly, joining the family business was never really part of my original plan.
After graduating from university, my parents supported my passion for hospitality. We opened a hotel in the center of town, and I spent several years living and working on the island. Running the hotel gave me the opportunity to understand the island beyond what I had known from growing up in the family—and, more importantly, to gradually see the scale and potential of our core business.
After several successful years, we exited the hospitality business, and my parents reinvested the proceeds into expanding the seaport. That decision turned out to be a major turning point for our family. The business grew from a relatively small operation into a much larger and more complex organization. At the same time, the island was experiencing a wave of major infrastructure and real estate development, bringing a huge increase in projects and cargo volumes to our doorstep. The opportunity was enormous—but so was the pressure.
My parents, who had built the business from the ground up, suddenly found themselves dealing with a scale of operations that was very different from what they had managed before. They were exhausted, almost burnt out. Although my own experience in the industry was very limited at the time, I felt an urge to step in and give them a hand. And that was when my real journey in the family business began: when the business outgrew the organization.
In the beginning, everything was messy. The traditional organizational structure and management practices that had worked well for a small family business were simply not ready to keep pace with large, complex projects and increasingly professional business partners. I can describe it as being like a machine originally designed for a motorbike, suddenly being asked to run at racing-car speed. The problem was not that the machine was bad. It had brought the family this far. The problem was that we were asking it to do something completely different.
To survive and grow, we had to move forward. We had to break some old chains, replace obsolete processes, and build new systems. But, of course, a castle cannot be built overnight. And transforming a family business is not just a matter of changing processes. It is also about managing relationships, expectations, and emotions. I had to learn where I could make changes and where I needed to respect the boundaries of my parents and other family members. I started taking responsibility for areas where I had more knowledge or experience—particularly accounting, finance, reporting, and organizational processes—while gradually building my credibility in operations.
The journey was far from smooth. There were many debates and arguments. Everyone had their own experience, their own beliefs, and, naturally, everyone believed they were trying to do the right thing. Sometimes, the most damaging moments were not caused by bad decisions, but by frustration. That is perhaps one of the hardest things about a family business: you cannot simply leave the emotions at the office. A disagreement with a colleague can end when you leave work. A disagreement with your parents can follow you all the way to the dinner table.
What eventually helped us was the realization that, despite our different approaches, we were all in the same boat. My parents built this business from almost nothing. Their experience, instinct, and determination are the foundation that brought us to where we are today. I have tremendous respect for that. But I also gradually came to understand something equally important: what brought us here may not necessarily bring us to where we want to go next.
The environment has changed. The size and complexity of our projects have changed. Our partners have become more professional, and the standards expected from us have changed as well. The next stage therefore requires a different way of working. My parents gradually understood that the changes I was pushing for were not a rejection of what they had built. They were an attempt to protect it—and prepare it for the next generation.
For me, professionalism is not about replacing family values. It is about giving those values a structure that can survive as the business becomes larger. We are still on that journey. There are still disagreements. There are still moments when old habits meet new expectations. And I am sure there will be many more challenges ahead.
But perhaps that is what makes a family business unique. You are not simply managing a company. You are carrying a legacy while trying to build something that the next generation can be proud of. And sometimes, the most difficult part of succession is not deciding who will lead the business next. It is finding a way for two generations to believe in the same future, even when they have very different ideas about how to get there.
After graduating from university, my parents supported my passion for hospitality. We opened a hotel in the center of town, and I spent several years living and working on the island. Running the hotel gave me the opportunity to understand the island beyond what I had known from growing up in the family—and, more importantly, to gradually see the scale and potential of our core business.
After several successful years, we exited the hospitality business, and my parents reinvested the proceeds into expanding the seaport. That decision turned out to be a major turning point for our family. The business grew from a relatively small operation into a much larger and more complex organization. At the same time, the island was experiencing a wave of major infrastructure and real estate development, bringing a huge increase in projects and cargo volumes to our doorstep. The opportunity was enormous—but so was the pressure.
My parents, who had built the business from the ground up, suddenly found themselves dealing with a scale of operations that was very different from what they had managed before. They were exhausted, almost burnt out. Although my own experience in the industry was very limited at the time, I felt an urge to step in and give them a hand. And that was when my real journey in the family business began: when the business outgrew the organization.
In the beginning, everything was messy. The traditional organizational structure and management practices that had worked well for a small family business were simply not ready to keep pace with large, complex projects and increasingly professional business partners. I can describe it as being like a machine originally designed for a motorbike, suddenly being asked to run at racing-car speed. The problem was not that the machine was bad. It had brought the family this far. The problem was that we were asking it to do something completely different.
To survive and grow, we had to move forward. We had to break some old chains, replace obsolete processes, and build new systems. But, of course, a castle cannot be built overnight. And transforming a family business is not just a matter of changing processes. It is also about managing relationships, expectations, and emotions. I had to learn where I could make changes and where I needed to respect the boundaries of my parents and other family members. I started taking responsibility for areas where I had more knowledge or experience—particularly accounting, finance, reporting, and organizational processes—while gradually building my credibility in operations.
The journey was far from smooth. There were many debates and arguments. Everyone had their own experience, their own beliefs, and, naturally, everyone believed they were trying to do the right thing. Sometimes, the most damaging moments were not caused by bad decisions, but by frustration. That is perhaps one of the hardest things about a family business: you cannot simply leave the emotions at the office. A disagreement with a colleague can end when you leave work. A disagreement with your parents can follow you all the way to the dinner table.
What eventually helped us was the realization that, despite our different approaches, we were all in the same boat. My parents built this business from almost nothing. Their experience, instinct, and determination are the foundation that brought us to where we are today. I have tremendous respect for that. But I also gradually came to understand something equally important: what brought us here may not necessarily bring us to where we want to go next.
The environment has changed. The size and complexity of our projects have changed. Our partners have become more professional, and the standards expected from us have changed as well. The next stage therefore requires a different way of working. My parents gradually understood that the changes I was pushing for were not a rejection of what they had built. They were an attempt to protect it—and prepare it for the next generation.
For me, professionalism is not about replacing family values. It is about giving those values a structure that can survive as the business becomes larger. We are still on that journey. There are still disagreements. There are still moments when old habits meet new expectations. And I am sure there will be many more challenges ahead.
But perhaps that is what makes a family business unique. You are not simply managing a company. You are carrying a legacy while trying to build something that the next generation can be proud of. And sometimes, the most difficult part of succession is not deciding who will lead the business next. It is finding a way for two generations to believe in the same future, even when they have very different ideas about how to get there.
