Every founder dreams of growth. It’s almost instinctive — the next office, the next market, the next product line. We chase expansion the way climbers chase altitude: the higher we go, the safer we think we are. But what nobody tells you is that growth is not a single direction.
And it’s not always good.
Sometimes, growth is just chaos wearing a nicer suit.
I’ve seen it many times — in my own agency, and in dozens of others I’ve worked with.
Revenue climbs. Team expands. The spreadsheet says “success.”
And yet, something starts leaking through the cracks.
Margins thin out. Decisions slow down.
The founder — once full of vision — becomes a glorified firefighter.
You can feel it in the air: The system’s running hotter than it should.
But because the business is technically growing, no one calls it a crisis.
They call it momentum.
And that’s the most dangerous kind of delusion — when the numbers say “win,” but the system says “warning.”
There’s no universal map for scaling a business. Only illusions.
Some founders grow horizontally — more clients, more markets, more offices.
That was me once.
Others grow vertically — fewer clients, higher margins, deeper relationships.
Some replicate — like Mars or Unilever — one architecture, many faces.
Same factory, different packaging, different story.
Others “bud off” — the Virgin model.
New ventures born from within, each with its own identity but the same DNA.
And every path can work — if it fits your internal architecture.
The mistake is believing there’s a “right” way to grow. There isn’t.
There’s only the way that aligns with your why — and the operational system that can sustain it.
For years, I scaled outward. More people. More offices. We had teams on three continents and clients in every time zone.
It looked impressive on paper — global presence, cross-market operations. But it drained me.
Not because the system failed — I actually built it well. It ran. It delivered. But it didn’t fit.
Because my energy came from designing, not managing. From crafting depth, not chasing width.
I thought I was expanding a company. In reality, I was expanding a structure that disconnected me from what gave me meaning.
And that’s the real cost of misaligned growth — not just margin erosion, but soul erosion.
At some point, I tried to pivot. I loved Richard Branson’s approach — the “budding” model.
When a top employee outgrew their role, he’d offer them partnership in a new venture.
That’s how Virgin became a constellation of companies, not a single empire.
It sounded perfect. I even tried it — twice.
But here’s what I missed:
Branson’s model only works if you already have leaders who think like founders.
I tried to graft the structure onto people who weren’t ready.
And the system rejected it.
Same architecture, wrong stage of evolution. So again, the lesson repeated itself:
Growth without readiness is just entropy in disguise.
The older I get, the more I see how growth magnifies what’s already true.
If you have clarity, systems, and alignment — scaling will multiply your freedom.
If you have confusion, friction, and fatigue — scaling will multiply your pain.
Growth doesn’t fix dysfunction.
It industrializes it.
And that’s why, before any founder chases the next “big thing,” they need one non-negotiable asset:
a thinking system.



