On Founderism & Founderitis

So, my primary goal in writing a book was—quite simply—to write a book. My second was to help anyone interested in understanding the mechanics of (healthy) startup growth. And my third goal—the sneaky goal—was to use the book as an excuse to meet more aspiring founders. As a born introvert (contrary to what friends might say) who’s not particularly socially networked, I hope that Listening for Growth will attract readers who are interested in one day starting their own thing, but who are perhaps anxious about what it's really like and what is really required.

Goal number one was a de facto success. Goal number two is still a work in progress. But goal number three has been the most eye-opening. To my surprise, and though I’ve been able to connect with many readers curious about growth and listening and entrepreneurship, I’ve been shocked at how few are interested in becoming founders. Contrary to what I would have guessed, even when there is a source of funding, insight into a market problem, alignment around a solution, and access to a team to help get things started, most people don’t want to be founders or co-founders. My lazy math suggests that, for every hundred people I’ve spoken to, less than five have sincere interest in making the leap from starter-upper to founder.

Obviously some of this surprise is self-inflicted. I suffer from confirmation bias, having spent the better part of my career as a founder, convincing myself of the merits of “founderism.” Likewise—and no doubt a benefit and hazard of the job—is the fact that many of my closest friends are also founders. And, finally, some of the reluctance might simply be a lack of shared interest—that the business theses (services and DTC rather than SaaS) and approaches that I take (less but better) do not align with most of the people I’ve spoken to so far.

So—yes—maybe it's me. But, also, I am starting to think that there might be general disinterest in founderism, along with a growing sense of founderitis. The former (disinterest in founderism) makes sense—while a lot of ink has been spilled about startup methods and startup journeys, less (and probably less honest) has been written about what it’s really like to be a founder. The benefits, the costs, the why and the why not. Also, if you’ve never founded a company, then, how could you really know?

There are all sorts of founders—those driven by ego, those driven by purpose, or by money or by the need for stimulation or control or a million other motivations. To me, however, the defining aspect of founderism is not the motivation but the inevitable trade offs—the founder’s existential dilemma. The level of responsibility (accountability) that a founder bears is unlike that for most jobs. And while there are of course exceptions, the founder’s relationship to their startup is more parental/familial than that of an employee to their job. The founder owns part of their startup, but the startup frequently owns as much of their founders. And this complex set of motivations and expectations sets into action an almost unsolvable nexus of conflicts. Founder vs. startup. Work vs. family. Leader vs. servant. Product vs. market. Top line vs. bottom line. Speed vs. burn. Mind vs. body. Co-workers vs. friends. The conflicts that founders face are both inevitable and kind of unnatural. They are everywhere and they are constant.

All of which begs the question: why—aside from the obvious, superficial reasons (wealth accumulation, a sense of control, ego, social pressures)—would somebody want to become a founder? Well, for one thing, through those conflicts—those dilemmas—you can learn a lot about yourself. You can falter. You can persevere. And you can grow. Frequently, you get to meet more people—and more curious people—than you would as a non-founder.?You also are given the extraordinarily rare opportunity to develop a hypothesis and test it—to determine whether your idea, dream or invention is valid. And why or why not.

But, most of all, if you are very lucky, you get to make a positive impact on the lives of others. Hopefully, your product or service provides tangible benefits. But, more so, if your startup grows, you help create opportunities for the people you work with. Career development. Increased compensation. New friendships. You get to see people buy their first homes. Get married. Have children. And the thing that you founded, in some very small way, made those things more possible. Or, minimally, more likely to succeed. Those are founderism’s greatest rewards. Those are what make the great dilemma worth resolving.

As for the latter—founderitis—that one feels especially timely. The macroeconomic environment is uncertain which means that many people will pursue certainty and avoid risk. The headwinds are real. The valuations are depressed. Tech giants have been in the news for massive layoffs. And so, it would only be natural that former prospective founders are pressing pause now.

Some of the aversion might also be related to the pandemic, which dispersed workplaces and challenged our notions of startup culture and its presumed benefits. But I have a nagging feeling that there is something else at play—that a large part of founderitis is the growing villainization and distrust of founders. That, as a culture, we are quite literally growing afraid of founders.

Because the motivations are so fraught and the risk and reward so great, the founder community is overrepresented by edge-case personalities. But the catastrophic founders from our Netflix and Hulu limited series are not the prototypes. Nor are the ones who own social media companies or sports teams. Those are the outliers. And while every founder at some point fakes it while they try to make it, that does not make them grifters. Money can be taken or stolen but growth is far more earned than hacked. So, while there are, of course, villainous founders, founders are not villains in the same way that they are not heroes.

To be honest, I’m not so sure why I decided to write this article on this day, except for some vague hope that the next hundred conversations I have with prospective founders turn out differently than the last hundred—that my conversion funnel can get a little smarter. And that, more broadly, there is a little more insight into founderism and a little less founderitis.