The Safety Dance: My Journey to still Launching a WHS Consultancy

Hello Safety People,

If you’ve ever corrected the placement of a fire extinguisher at a friend’s house or mentally risk-assessed a family BBQ, you already know—this WHS thing isn’t just a job. It’s a way of seeing the world. And for me, it eventually became clear it had to be more than a job—it had to be a business.

So here I am, six months into launching my own WHS consultancy, WHS Guard. I thought I’d share some honest reflections—not just about what worked, but also about what made me want to scream into my PPE.

It Began Over a Cup of Tea

It started quietly—like all good revolutions do. I was sitting across from a close friend, nursing a lukewarm cup of tea and saying out loud, “You know what? I think I can do this.” That one sentence set off a chain of events I wasn’t quite prepared for.

The decision felt right. What came next was…less so. Cue: hours of Googling, government portal rabbit holes, and blurry-eyed reading about ABNs, business names, domains, ASIC registrations, and whether my trading name had to match my website (it doesn’t, but there are branding implications no one tells you about until too late).

Was WHS Guard a business name, a brand, or a domain? Turns out—it’s all of them, and none of them, depending on the context. And don’t even get me started on the moment I had to explain what a “business structure” was to myself, out loud, at 11:30pm. It was a steep learning curve, paved with bureaucracy.

Strategy in Progress (Still Under Construction)

Once I got my ABN and website domain sorted (after about three re-dos and panic-chats with my accountant), I moved on to developing a WHS strategy that I could use as the core of my offering.

Here’s the truth most consultants won’t say out loud: The strategy is still evolving. I’ve got the framework and the pillars—governance, compliance, psychosocial integration, and safety culture transformation—but let’s be honest, when you're building a business and a philosophy at the same time, perfection isn’t the starting point. It’s the goal. I’m treating it like a working draft. Which is what all good strategies should be anyway.

The Late Nights, the Learning, and tea

One of the unexpected joys (and let's be frank—pressures) of setting out solo is that you’re suddenly the subject matter expert, marketer, web designer, admin assistant, and office manager all rolled into one.

There’s a lot of unpaid work that comes before any paid work. Writing white papers, publishing newsletters, showing up on LinkedIn, running pro bono audits to build relationships—it’s all part of laying the groundwork. But no one tells you that “building your brand” might mean writing a blog at 1am while wondering if anyone will ever actually pay for your insight.

And unlike every other origin story involving "cups of coffee," mine runs on tea—strong, hot, and poured generously while sitting cross-legged on the floor, typing with one hand and sketching workshop flows with the other. It feels distinctly Australian, in that blend of DIY resilience and low-key chaos.

Small Wins, Big Lessons

Even with all the stress, there have been moments of real connection and pride. Like helping a not-for-profit restructure their approach to psychosocial hazards, or seeing an organization finally adopt a reporting tool after years of resistance.

Those moments remind me why I started. The wins aren’t always financial at first—but they are foundational. A heartfelt thank-you from a volunteer, a text from a client saying “this makes sense now”—those are worth more than a retainer some days.

Humour helps. Because this work is heavy. And while safety is serious, we don’t always have to be. A well-placed meme can land better than a 60-slide training deck. I’ve learned that the hard way.

Finding My Voice and Supporting Others

At the end of the day, launching WHS Guard wasn’t about going solo. It was about showing up for the people and communities I’ve worked with for over two decades—from South Asia to Queensland, from marine rescue to academia.

I didn’t want to just create another WHS consultancy. I wanted to create a trusted ally. Someone who understands both the system and the people who work within it. And someone who can connect the dots—between psychosocial risks and business models, between strategy and operational messiness, between a Safe Work Method Statement and a lived experience.

Where To From Here?

The journey continues—and so does the unpaid work. But I’m clearer than ever on what I bring to the table: integrity, a solid backbone of experience, and an evolving practice grounded in real-world WHS strategy.

If you’re thinking of starting your own venture, my advice is: do it scared. Do it anyway. Know that the road will be messy. But if you’re honest, generous, and willing to keep learning, you’ll get there.

And if you’re already there—remember to reach back and support the next person. Because safety is a shared responsibility, and so is success.

In solidarity,

Niru Tyagi

Founder, WHS Guard | Safety, Strategy & Sanity