Most founders are taught to be careful.
To run the numbers. To assess downside.
To think through worst-case scenarios before acting.
So we get very good at calculating the cost of doing something.
What we almost never calculate is the cost of doing nothing.
And that blind spot quietly shapes more of your business than you’d like to admit.
There’s a particular state many founders live in.
Head down. Busy. Reacting.
You’re aware that a decision is coming. You can feel it pressing against the edges of your attention. A hire. A system. A product change. A difficult conversation. A strategic shift.
But there’s no time to sit with it properly. No clean mental space to think.
So the decision stays open.
Not decided. Not rejected. Just… postponed.
And postponement feels safe. Responsible, even. You didn’t rush. You didn’t gamble. You avoided a mistake.
Except you still made a choice.
You chose to keep things exactly as they are.
Hiring was always hard for me. Not because I didn’t believe in growth, but because hiring felt like commitment in its most concrete form. Salaries. Onboarding. Responsibility for someone else’s stability.
Before we had strong systems around hiring and onboarding, every new person added emotional weight. More questions. More oversight. More things that depended on me.
And since we never raised external money and grew only from cash flow, every hire felt like a risk that needed justification.
I remember evenings spent in Google Sheets, running scenarios.
How many months of runway do we have? What if sales slow down?What if a project falls through? What if they’re on the bench longer than expected?
I talked to sales. To PMs. To clients. Trying to predict workload, demand, timing.
On the surface, this was rational risk management.
But there was a flaw in my thinking that I didn’t see at the time.
I was only calculating one side of the equation.
I was very clear on what could go wrong if we hired. What I never modeled was what we were losing by not hiring.
The projects we couldn’t take. The clients we had to say no to. The team members who burned out because we were understaffed. The momentum we quietly killed by staying “safe.”
Years later, when I looked back, the irony was obvious.
In more than twenty years of running an agency, the number of times we truly couldn’t cover payroll after a hire? Less than a handful.
But the number of opportunities we missed because we didn’t have capacity? Countless.
My decisions weren’t balanced. They were biased. Not toward action. Toward avoidance.
This pattern became painfully clear during a crisis I still remember vividly.
Our accounts were frozen. One day before payroll.
What made it worse wasn’t the freeze itself, but the realization that the warning signs had been there long before. Banking risks. Jurisdiction issues. Structural weaknesses we all knew about.
I had evaluated the cost of fixing them. Lawyers. New accounts. Time. Complexity.
It felt expensive. Inconvenient. Something to deal with “later.”
What I never seriously evaluated was the cost if the risk actually materialized.
When it did, the price wasn’t incremental. It was existential.
That was the moment the lesson landed for good:
Avoided decisions don’t disappear. They compound.
This isn’t about intelligence or experience. It’s psychological.
We are wired to feel the pain of immediate, visible costs more strongly than abstract future losses. So we over-analyze action and under-analyze inaction.
We convince ourselves we’re being prudent, when in reality we’re just delaying discomfort.
That’s how:
Not because founders are careless. But because they never looked at the full cost of not deciding.
Some decisions can be delegated. This category cannot.
Only the founder can step back far enough to see second-order effects. Only the founder can ask, “What does this look like in six months if nothing changes?”
This is why clarity is not a luxury at certain stages of growth. It’s infrastructure.
And why staying buried in day-to-day execution during these moments is so dangerous. You can’t see the blind spot while standing inside it.
Before you move on, pause for a moment.
What decision have you been postponing because the cost of action feels too high?
And more importantly: What is it already costing you to keep it unresolved?
Reply and tell me what you found out. I read every single response and do all my best to reply.



