Success is Yours, Failure is Mine

While I have read several times that a founder’s journey is lonely, it was not until experiencing recent events that I truly understood how spot-on that description is.

“I told you so.”

Who knew such a simple, four-syllable line would feel like a pile of bricks on my chest and reiterate just how lonely it is to be a startup founder pushing for innovation?

The words echoed in my mind long after a team member spoke them during our meeting. Our spirits were low as we deliberated the failure of a key technology and product we were inventing. This was to be a signature feature of a BllionBricks house. We had hoped to use this product in our first projects in the Philippines, but the setback represented a significant detour from our plans and ambitions. 

This new technology was to be the culmination of countless hours of brainstorming to develop a solution that could revolutionise the transition to clean energy in residential construction.

As with any novel idea, the design was initially met with scepticism from all sides. Most believed our product would never work, including many consultants and several manufacturers we tried to collaborate with.

But rather than letting scepticism stop us, we used it as a motivator, compelling us to push the boundaries of what was considered possible. After all, that’s the foundation of BillionBricks – we question the status quo and, as a team, work together to find answers and solutions to our questions.

Over the past months, I stood shoulder-to-shoulder with my team as we developed this new technology. We tweaked the prototypes, refined our concept, and though there were setbacks, we always found a way to push forward and turn our ideas into a reality. We hired the best people, brought in subject matter experts, poured in money, and created an environment where the idea could thrive and develop. 

First Real World Prototype

When the product worked well the first time we tested it, it was natural for everyone to be in a celebratory mood. 

Our team from China visited to install a small sample of our technology and product. I was ecstatic at seeing the fruit of our labour, and as I climbed over it, I felt like I was on top of the world.

It was proof that our hard work, our willingness to question the status quo, and our commitment to innovation could indeed lead to groundbreaking results. This success was not just technical but symbolic, representing a triumph over the scepticism and doubts that had accompanied us from the start.

Our WhatsApp group chat buzzed with a stream of congratulatory messages.

“We did it.”

“Congratulations!”

“Good job, everyone!”

We all felt proud of our tangible achievement, and it was a gratifying success for the whole team. We finally had an invention to our name and sowed the first seeds of intellectual value on which we could build many more iterations of inventions. 

The celebration, however, was short-lived. 

I was supposed to hop on a flight back to Singapore, but I cancelled it at the last minute for a chance to see the full-size product and test it myself. It is one thing to have a successful sample, but a completely different feeling to see it firsthand in its complete physical form.

As my eyes lay on the product at the testing site, I couldn’t help but feel emotional. I was taken back to my first sketches from four years ago, along with the early years of working hard to rally the resources and assemble a team to turn that concept to life.

Finally, it was right in front of me. I marvelled at the aluminium frames that looked beautiful in black – its sleek style reiterated that BilllionBricks puts emphasis not only on engineering but also on design and aesthetics.

After admiring its visual appeal, I bravely climbed up the structure to ensure everything worked. As the founder, it was crucial for me to gather firsthand information and to touch and feel every inch of the invention myself. 

Did we Succeed as a Team?

But then, I sensed something was amiss. As I precariously stood 20 feet above the ground, the reliability of our invention felt just as shaky. 

After moments of examining the product, it was undeniable: there was a set of critical flaws in the design. And the more we tested it, the more it failed. The issues were far from minor. Our design was flawed, and our process of developing it had not been robust enough. 

We had jumped ahead too quickly, too soon, on the success of our sample. Clearly, we couldn’t use it for the upcoming projects without compromising the integrity of the houses we were to build. BillionBricks would need to step back and reassess our approach. 

It was an extremely stressful moment, and the atmosphere was filled with a mix of disappointment, concern, and an underlying fear of what this meant for our future as a startup. But as the leader of the pack, I had to maintain my composure. Ending our long day, I took my team out for drinks, hoping to rekindle our spirits and look beyond the setback.

In between laughs and rounds of beer, however, I can't help but find my mind racing, pondering over what would the right next steps be. How do I navigate the team through this failure, especially after spending over a year on development? How do we address the patents we've already filed, and what does this mean for their future? How do we communicate this setback to our investors, board, and stakeholders, to whom we’ve already announced that the product was working well after the first tests?

There was no denying that this failure opened up a moment of vulnerability—not only for the product but also for our team and me as a founder.  I tried to calm myself down. After all, things are different from when I first sketched the idea four years ago. Now, I’m with a skilled, qualified, and talented group. And unlike lone individuals, teams have more power to overturn vulnerabilities into strengths. Aren't we stronger together than we are alone?

The following morning, I organised a call with the team. This meeting was critical, as it was our opportunity to discuss our forward strategy and salvage what we could from the previous day's setback. 

I approached the call with a mindset geared towards unity and problem-solving. This was our moment to regroup. I was prepared to listen, to engage, and to lead with determination. Yet, the response I encountered left me speechless.

“I told you so, Prasoon,” the team member said.

“Everyone has been telling you from day one that this would never work. Yet, you have been ignoring everyone and in your zest to prove them wrong, you’ve continued to push this idea. And now here you are; it doesn’t work.”

Hearing this, I froze. I was shattered, and my grip tightened, nearly crushing the coffee cup in my hands. I wished I had been on my scheduled flight rather than on this call.

“What happened? Why are you quiet?” came the voice from the other side a few moments later.

I was momentarily paralysed, my emotions torn between wanting to curl up and disappear or shouting out loud in frustration.

“We are too far apart in this conversation. I have nothing more to say,” I finally responded and ended the call.

I grabbed my bag and headed to the airport. Not long afterwards, I took refuge in being enveloped by the white noise on the aeroplane, isolating me from the world and facing my thoughts alone.

Facing Failures Alone

This failure is the latest incident highlighting the profound loneliness of being a startup founder. But it’s certainly not an isolated case. Time and again, I’m reminded that the path I’ve chosen is inherently solitary.

For instance, I alone am responsible for making the hard decisions. In the case of the flawed product, it was up to me to make the tough call not to use it anymore, fully aware that one year of effort may all go to waste.

Yes, I have a team, but their journey in BillionBricks is very different from mine.

In general, most employees see what they do as a job with clear parameters; their work hours have a start and an end, and their tasks are compensated by a paycheck. They take credit for success but have excuses for failures.

Would a more directive approach, where I assert my authority more strongly, better fit our organisation? Perhaps. However, more than the style of command, it may be adaptability to these solitary pressures that will define our path forward.

They say it’s lonely at the top, but I can’t testify to that as I’m yet to reach the summit. I’m not yet done. But at this juncture of my journey as a founder, I can say that, yes, the loneliness is palpable.

As I continue on this journey, I understand that each step will be marked by both shared successes and solitary failures. There’s no other way for me but to embrace solitude – whether it’s being held solely accountable for a setback during a meeting or reflecting on the best way to move forward while finding solace in the white noise 35,000 feet up in the sky. 

Every echo and variation of "I told you so" is not merely a reminder of the doubts of others but also serves as a trigger for introspection and growth. Rather than letting them pull me down, I’m trying to use them as a driving force to pursue our vision with greater clarity, even if it means I have to endure a lonely journey.

It is here, in the quiet and lonely resolve to push ahead, that I find the true essence of being a founder. After all, true leaders are made—not by the victories they claim but by the adversity they overcome.