Transitioning from founder to CEO, the realest story you’ll ever hear.
Many founders are thought to be visionaries. They set out to be the problem solver, innovator, inventor, and creative to build and design the future they so wanted to have for themselves and for others. It’s funny how it’s become a de facto where the founder becomes the CEO. That’s when everything and anything could go wrong and no one prepares you for it. Or at least I didn’t get the memo.
When a visionary becomes a CEO with no experience, it’s like someone who wants to go on a road trip to Alaska but has no experience in driving. So the journey becomes less about what the future would look like in Alaska, but all about “how the f*ck do I drive this car? Where’s the gear, what does an autopilot mode do, how many seconds do I stop for at the stop sign?” You get so caught up in figuring out the operations that you lose sight of where you were initially set out to go, or at worst, why you started to dream about Alaska in the first place. And when you finally get to Alaska, you’re just exhausted.
When a visionary becomes a CEO with no experience, it’s like someone who wants to go on a road trip to Alaska but has no experience in driving.
The hard lesson I’m learning now is: When you’re a visionary, have a strong operator by your side. Don’t try to be in the operator’s seat but step aside and contribute to the business in a way that you’re best at. You just need a person who knows how to drive you smoothly in the most fuel-efficient manner and knows when to speed up and slow down. That’s the person you need to seat in the driver’s seat. That operator ideally should not let you worry about the car breaking down, road hazards he/she sees, or running out of fuel so that you focus on how to benefit the world with your idea, your product/service, and your vision.
I co-founded the company in 2017 and became a sole-founder by December 31st, 2019. So 2020 was a HELLUVA year. I knew I didn’t belong in the driver’s seat but had no choice nor I knew anyone that’d be best for the seat. In the meantime, the company didn’t stop growing and we made hires who came with their own experience of road-tripping that influenced me in painting what the journey should look like — often their insights were valid but many were still short-sighted. But I was too caught up trying to figure out changing gears, that I sometimes let people in the car direct me to Alaska. And the car got bigger and bigger. I started losing confidence in driving the heavyweight car. And started doubting everything about the journey. I felt small, inadequate, incompetent, and just stupid.
I started losing confidence in driving the heavyweight car. And started doubting everything about the journey. I felt small, inadequate, incompetent, and just stupid.
That’s when I made some stops here and there, to find the best drivers in town for advice. Most of them were kind enough to let me in on their secrets to success, the DTC formula, the growth hacks, and all the tried and true methods to get to Alaska faster. This year I learned what LTM stands for (Last Twelve Months lol), how accounting works, what EBITDA means, what a compensation structure is, what product lifecycle is, and such. I don’t have a business degree so I finally felt like I was equipped to drive the car. But unknowingly, I was becoming less of who I was. The adrenalin rush I had by dreaming about the North Star has been replaced with the dreadedness of coming to work. The pressure was enormous to make ‘executive decisions’ that would decide the company’s future (The suffocation and anxiety is real.) A lot of work that wouldn’t fall on any team member’s responsibilities had naturally become mine. I would constantly put on a ‘leader’ persona in front of the team hoping they would never think less of me. I became reliant on consumer trend reports instead of talking to them directly. And slowly, I started seeing my initial vision as a delusion, not a possibility. I started compromising my vision, lowering my expectations, and found myself following the conventional track of growing the company. The visionary in me was slowly fading away.
And slowly, I started seeing my initial vision as a delusion, not a possibility. I started compromising my vision, lowering my expectations, and found myself following the conventional track of growing the company. The visionary in me was slowly fading away.
Throughout the year, I’ve never felt so smart but also so small. The more I learned about what a conventional CEO should look like, the more I compared myself to the ideal CEOs I see on the internet. Soon enough my imposter syndrome has reached a point where it got me thinking maybe it’s better off getting a VC investment with a small exchange of equity, just to have more professional support from people who are smarter than me. (To date, KraveBeauty is 100% self-funded with no capital needs) I was relying on the thought of ‘These smart people will tell me what to do to build and scale the company.’ and maybe that was the excuse of me trying to escape out of this role. But surely, if I have gone down that route, KraveBeauty will become ‘just another beauty brand’.
But then something completely recentered me. Wait a second, why am I doing this? I’m here to create the realest beauty brand out there. A company that’s built on principles and uses its influence to inspire other businesses to do good and empower people to be better citizens of the planet. I started all of this because I wanted to reset the industry practices and standards. Reinvent capitalism and slow down skincare. Slow down the industry on creating unnecessary demands and focus on producing the best quality skincare essentials. I want us to be an activist organization that sells products to fund our activism — our demand for a better future. For our products, I want them to be made in the most intentional, serious, and eco-conscious way possible. If someone asks what my exit strategy is, I have none. I want to be here for decades. I want to grow old with our customers and still be relevant throughout generations. I have no interest in peacing out with a fat check in my hands leaving all the problems behind.
That realization shifted everything. I was going to the wrong people for advice. Instead, who I really need are people who’ve been to Mars. Somewhere that most people believe it’s crazy and delusional but have such a strong conviction that there’s something to explore there. I don’t think I’ve found that peer group yet but I’m also happy staying in my own bubble if that means I could keep my vision pure. If you’re a delusional founder like me, yes, the journey is lonely. But know that there are people like you, somewhere.
