I’ve always believed that business is, at its core, about people. Not just about transactions, not just about efficiency, but about real, human connection. In the early years, I knew every single person by name. I knew whose kid was starting school, whose mother was ill, who had a birthday coming up. I genuinely cared, and that wasn’t just a management tactic — it was what made me feel alive inside the business.

Every founder has felt that itch. A process breaks, something slows down, and you think: *We just need a better tool.* A new CRM to track everything. A better project manager to "finally get organized." A new AI toy to make work faster. It feels like progress. Like you're "solving" the problem. But in reality you're just adding another layer of noise to an already overloaded system.

I never really had a hobby. My business *was* my hobby. And for years, it felt like a blessing. I grew up dreaming of computers. The first thing I ever bought with my own money, in debt, was a PC. I taught myself to code. Went to university for computer science. And when I started my own agency, it wasn’t some master plan to build a business. It was just another way to keep doing what I loved.

I never set out to become a founder. All I wanted was to provide for my young family. I jumped between jobs, searching for a place where I felt valued. Everywhere I went, it was the same: poor pay, shallow leadership, no shared purpose.

Not everything in your business is broken. But something is. The hardest part, you often don’t notice until it’s already cost you: - Time - Money - Your team’s energy - Your own mental bandwidth I learned this the hard way.

Founders don’t burn out from work. They burn out from systems that don’t work without them. There’s a dangerous myth floating around founder circles: That hustle is the path. That being “always on” means you’re in control. That if things go wrong — you just need to work harder.

I had a call with a founder recently. Smart, talented, ambitious. Drowning. She manages projects, leads designers, runs delivery, all herself. From the outside, it looks like she’s crushing it. But inside it’s a different story.

I used to think growth came from planning. From the right strategy. The right product. The right offer. But when I look back at every leap in my business — none of them started from a spreadsheet. They all started from a collapse. Not the kind that looks poetic in hindsight. The kind where your gut sinks. You can’t sleep. You think it’s over.

About ten years ago, I made a mistake I’ve seen many founders still repeat. I tried to implement a system in my business the way you implement a new app: Install it. Plug it in. Expect results. The system looked perfect on paper. The logic made sense. It even borrowed ideas from companies like Toyota and McDonald’s — “the greats,” right? But it didn’t work.

When I opened my first office, I thought I made it. I had a team. I had a business address. I had a car — okay, it was on credit, but still. And for the first time in my life, I flew abroad. It felt like success. It looked like success. And I believed it was success. But it wasn’t.

I’m a visual thinker. Maybe it comes from starting out as a designer, but visual and spatial thinking is second nature to me. I process diagrams, charts, and maps way faster than text. Even when my wife asks how a dress looks on her, I tell her honestly: *“I’ll let you know when I see it.”* (Of course, she looks great in everything.) But the point is — visuals work faster. That’s not an opinion. It’s science.

If you’re a painter, sculptor, or writer — maybe that’s true. Talent is personal. Though let’s be honest, even writers have ghostwriters. But if you’re a business owner, that mantra is lethal.

When I started my business, I didn’t even think I was starting a business. I just didn’t want to work for morons — and I needed to support my family. All I really wanted was a comfortable space where I could do something meaningful, surrounded by interesting people. I was always ready to work hard — especially on things that lit me up.

When I started my business, I didn’t even think I was starting a business. I just didn’t want to work for morons — and I needed to support my family. All I really wanted was a comfortable space where I could do something meaningful, surrounded by interesting people. I was always ready to work hard — especially on things that lit me up.

One of the most valuable skills I’ve gained throughout my entrepreneurial journey is the ability to look at a business from a distance — to zoom out and see the big picture.

This is the final letter in my series on the power of setting the right goals as an entrepreneur. Initially, I planned to fit it all into a single message. But as I got deeper into the topic, I realized: goals are too important, too layered, too foundational for a quick overview. They determine everything.

What is a business empire? It’s a massive, high-impact machine. One that shapes markets, influences industries, and sometimes steers entire economies. Think public companies, powerful family-owned firms, investment giants.

Everything in life has a beginning and an end. We’re born, we live, we leave. Just a brief moment in the grand eternity. And how we spend it - that’s on us. Will we aim for something meaningful - raising kids, growing as humans, helping others? Or will we drown in endless pleasure-seeking, only to realize (if we ever do) that we wasted that moment on nothing?

Ever catch yourself overcomplicating things? For no reason. Out of thin air. Yeah, same here. Regularly. Maybe it’s because I love building things. Maybe it’s the inner tech nerd. Maybe it’s curiosity. Or maybe… it’s just procrastination in disguise.

Eugene, I see that you’re a System Guy. Everything you do is organized and structured. But what exactly are you talking about when you say ‘systems’? Are we talking tools? Software? Automation? And who is this even for?

The other day, while reflecting on entrepreneurial risks and my own transformation over the past three years—from running a large IT outsourcing company to becoming a solopreneur and business consultant—I caught myself constantly repeating Charles Dickens’ famous words: "Never say 'never'".

How often do you leave the house thinking you might not come back? We try not to dwell on bad things. But bad things don’t care what we think. Accidents, disasters—we always believe it won’t happen to us.

We all have goals we strive for. But not everyone manages to reach them. For entrepreneurs, this is even more critical—your success depends on achieving your goals. But distractions are everywhere—clients, family, unexpected issues.

I dreamed to build a team, a culture, and a workplace where people wanted to be. A space for creativity, not just a place to clock in and out. After all, we spend most of our lives working. Whether it’s running your own business or being employed. Whether in an office or remotely.

Business growth is every entrepreneur’s dream. More clients, more sales, more money. But in practice, rapid scaling can hit you like a crisis. Sometimes, it’s even worse.