One of the more interesting things about spending a long time in business is that your views gradually become less influenced by what everyone else is saying.
When you’re younger, it’s easy to assume that the loudest voices have the best answers. You read the books, listen to the podcasts, attend the conferences and absorb advice from people who seem successful. Much of that advice is valuable. Some of it isn’t. Over time, though, experience starts becoming a better teacher than opinion. You see businesses succeed for reasons nobody predicted and fail for reasons nobody saw coming. Eventually, you become more comfortable holding views that don’t always fit with conventional wisdom.
One belief I’ve never fully agreed with is that bigger automatically means better. Revenue can be impressive. Headcount can be impressive. Rapid growth can be impressive. But none of those things automatically create a better business or a better life. Some of the happiest founders I’ve met run relatively simple businesses that give them freedom, flexibility and fulfilment. Some of the most stressed founders I’ve met run businesses that many people would consider hugely successful. The older I get, the more I think success should be measured by alignment. Does the business support the life you’re trying to build? Does it reflect your values? Does it give you the freedom you hoped success would create in the first place?
I’ve also become increasingly convinced that loyalty is one of the most underrated assets in business. In a world obsessed with speed, optimisation and constant change, loyalty can almost seem old-fashioned. Yet when I look back at the people who have had the biggest impact on my businesses, many have been with me for years. The same applies to clients. Trust compounds. Shared experiences compound. Understanding compounds. Some of the strongest competitive advantages I’ve seen weren’t created by strategy alone, but by people staying together long enough to become exceptional.
Another belief that has strengthened over time is that many founders eventually outgrow the role they originally created for themselves.
When a business is young, control feels necessary. You’re involved in every decision, every client, every hire and every problem. In the early years, that level of involvement often helps the business survive. The challenge is that what helps a business survive isn’t always what helps it grow.
I’ve met founders who spent years building successful companies only to discover they’ve become trapped inside them. Every decision still requires their approval. Every problem still lands on their desk. The business grows, but their freedom shrinks.
I’ve never wanted that version of success.
My dream was never to build one business that depended entirely on me. It was to build a portfolio of businesses that align with my interests, values and experience while creating the flexibility to live life on my own terms.
That vision has become even more important as I’ve gotten older. I have two teenage children. I split my time across multiple countries. Most days I still try to squeeze twenty-five hours into a twenty-four-hour day. Compromising on ambition has never really been an option for me, but neither has sacrificing everything else that matters.
What I’ve realised is that achieving both requires a different mindset. At some point, founders have to stop measuring their value by how involved they are in every decision. The real challenge isn’t building something that needs you. It’s building something that can thrive without you being at the centre of everything.
For me, that’s what growth increasingly looks like. Not more control. Not more dependence. More capable people, more ownership and more businesses led by talented teams who share the same values and standards.
Perhaps that’s the belief I hold most strongly now. Business is far more human than most people admit. We talk endlessly about strategy, systems and growth, but behind every decision, every success and every failure are people. The longer I’ve spent building businesses, the more convinced I’ve become that understanding people is often more valuable than understanding business itself.
I know not everyone will agree with these views. That’s perfectly fine. Experience has a way of challenging assumptions and reshaping priorities. These aren’t universal truths. They’re simply the conclusions I’ve arrived at through building businesses, leading teams, making mistakes and continuing to learn. Whether they’re right or wrong matters less to me these days than whether they’ve proven true often enough in my own life that I keep coming back to them.