Startup mythology loves a hero. The lone founder. The visionary. The genius who sees what others don’t.
We’ve turned entrepreneurs into human deities—heaping praise on the likes of Steve Jobs, Elon Musk, Jeff Bezos. But are they really the mountaineers of business, scaling treacherous peaks while the world watches in awe? Or are they just the ones who planted the flag—while the ‘real climb’ was done by others?
Because when you look closely, it’s not the idea that’s genius—it’s the delivery. Is the innovator the person who says “we should build reusable rockets”? Or is it the scientists and engineers who actually make that happen?
Founders need vision, of course. It’s what starts the journey. But let’s not forget who forges the path, carries the load, and solves the problems in real time: the team. The Sherpas. And yet it’s the “mountaineers”—the founders—who get the photo at the summit.
Maybe we’ve got it backwards. Maybe entrepreneurs should act more like Sherpas—quietly supporting, guiding, elevating—while the team becomes the mountaineer, achieving the summit together.
I’ve had a lot of good ideas over the years. A few great ones, maybe. But I’ve learned that an idea is only the spark. What turns it into a roaring fire is the team—the environment, the talent, the timing, the feedback loops, the iteration.
Whether it’s refining the service model in our property management business or shaping complex features in our software platform, the vision has always been a team effort. I may have set the course, but the journey—the hard miles, the sharp pivots, the craft—belongs to everyone else around me.
And while I’ve never shied away from the spotlight, I’ve never wanted it to shine only on me. The accolades, the milestones, the progress—they’ve always been shared. First and foremost with my business partner, and with the incredible teams we’ve built and grown in both businesses. Without them, none of this exists.
We like to tell ourselves we’re the engine. Sometimes we are. But often, we’re also the squeaky brakes. The distracted driver. The person who needs reining in, refocusing, or just gently reminded we’re not the only one in the vehicle.
Founders have vision—but we also have blind spots. And ego can make those blind spots vast.
So yes, speak up. Share your ideas. Own your innovation. But when the praise rolls in—when the funding is secured, the product is launched, the stage lights hit—remember who did the real f***ing work. Not just you. Not by a long shot.
The goal of a founder isn’t to be the one on the mountaintop. It’s to help others get there—again and again.
Let’s stop glamorising the lone visionary and start recognising the teams behind the brilliance. Because the best founders aren’t the heroes of the story. They’re the Sherpas—quiet, capable, consistent—and always focused on lifting others higher.
