They told me I couldn't wear shorts to school, so I invented a new kind of pants.
Dress code said no shorts, so we made something that technically wasn't: clam diggers. Everyone wanted a pair.
Build a workaround for yourself — everyone stuck behind the same wall is your market. …more
mashley.com ↗
I’ve spent the better part of 25 years trying to understand two things: which problems are worth solving, and what is the simplest way to solve them. That pursuit has led me to start companies, build products, teach entrepreneurship, coach hundreds of founders, and participate in four startup exits—one as a founder and three as an advisor. Along the way, I noticed a pattern. Founders are usually very good at solving problems. The trouble is that we’re often solving the wrong ones. What looks like a sales problem might really be positioning. A marketing problem might begin with not understanding the customer. An execution problem might simply be too many priorities competing for attention. I came to think of this as finding the problem under the problem. When you find it, complicated decisions get simpler, teams align, and a surprising amount of work disappears. Today I coach founders and startup teams around the world to do exactly that. Sometimes it’s a team scaling a company worth billions. Sometimes it’s one person turning what they know into a consulting business. The scale changes, but the work is remarkably similar. Find the problem worth solving. Find the simplest way through it. Then get on with the work that matters.
If you're solving the same problem every week, you don't have a task problem. You have a structure problem.
It's one of the clearest patterns I've learned across four startups and a lot of advising rooms: recurring firefighting is almost never about the fire in front of you. The same issue keeps coming back because something in the system — how work flows, who owns what, how decisions get made — keeps producing it. You can put the fire out beautifully every single time, and it will still be there next Tuesday.
W. Edwards Deming made this point decades ago, and it still holds. In Out of the Crisis, he estimated that about 94% of the problems in any operation belong to the system, not the people — only around 6% trace to a true one-off. Read that again: the overwhelming majority of what looks like individual failure is actually structural. So when the same thing breaks over and over, blaming the person doing the task is the most expensive mistake you can make.
The fix is slower up front and far cheaper over time. Instead of solving the instance, you step back and ask what keeps generating it — then you change that. Redesign the handoff. Clarify the ownership. Remove the step that keeps failing. Do it once, at the structural level, and the symptom stops recurring instead of demanding your attention forever.
Firefighting feels productive because it's visible and urgent. But a leader's real job isn't to be the best firefighter in the building. It's to build something that stops catching fire.
What's the problem that keeps coming back no matter how many times you solve it — and what structure might be quietly producing it? …more
Told 4 times, Jul 8, 2026 – Jul 10, 2026
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Deming counted: ~94% of problems belong to the system, not the people.
So when the same thing breaks every week, blaming the person doing the task is the most expensive mistake you can make.
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If you're solving the same problem every week, you don't have a task problem. You have a structure problem.
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If you're fixing the same thing every week, it's not a task problem. It's a structure problem. Fix what keeps producing it.
They told me I couldn't wear shorts to school. So I invented a new category of pants.
I wasn't trying to start a company. I just didn't want to stop wearing shorts. The dress code said no shorts — so my mom and I designed something that technically wasn't shorts but did the same job: clam diggers. Long enough to pass the rule, short enough to be worth wearing.
I wore them in. The school tried to send me home. I argued they didn't break the rule as written — and I won.
Here's the part I didn't see coming: every kid at school wanted a pair. The workaround turned out to be more interesting than the rebellion. So we started a little company called Surfing Samurai and made clam diggers for everyone.
That's a pattern I've watched repeat for 25 years. You hit a constraint. You build a workaround for yourself. Then you realize everyone else is stuck behind the same constraint — and that's your market. The frustration was never just yours.
What constraint have you turned into a product or opportunity? I'd love to hear it.
🎙️ From my conversation with Julia Lucidi on the Founder Tactics podcast. Full episode: https://youtu.be/M58Dnn2UAlM …more
When I built my first startup back in 2007, I had to work in a future that didn't exist yet.
It wasn't a better printing press. We took the old publishing supply chain, broke it into pieces, and rebuilt them digitally — print-on-demand, zero inventory, mass electronic distribution, and integration with the brand-new e-book world. There was no playbook. You can't optimize something that's never been done.
Peter Thiel has a useful name for this. In Zero to One he splits progress into two kinds. Going from 0 to 1 is invention — doing something genuinely new. Going from 1 to n is what he calls globalization: taking something that already works and making more of it, better and faster and cheaper. His point is that a lot of what we call progress is really the second kind, not the first.
Both matter. But they're different jobs, and they reward different people.
I did the 0→1 part. Since then, others made digital publishing better, faster, and cheaper — Amazon's Kindle platform made publishing a book so easy it's almost a crime. The people who built and scaled that are very different from me. And that's exactly how it should be. There's even research behind it: studying 200+ startups, Noam Wasserman found founders often get replaced as their company grows — not for failing, but because succeeding changes the job into a different one. Success exposes the mismatch; it doesn't remove it.
So here's the distinction I'd make after 25 years of this:
A builder makes it exist. An operator makes it bigger. Most good things stall the moment you ask one to be the other.
Two different jobs. Two different kinds of people.
Most stalls I get called into aren't talent problems. They're a mismatch — someone brilliant at one job asked to do the other, or one person trying to do both at once.
So before you hire, or beat yourself up for being stuck: name the job you actually need right now.
Which one is your initiative actually stuck on — building it, or making it bigger? …more
Told 5 times, Jun 24, 2026 – Jul 9, 2026
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A quick one to close the week.
This week I've been writing about how building something and scaling it are two different jobs — a builder makes it exist, an operator makes it bigger — and how most stalls come from asking one person, or one hire, to do both.
So here's the question I'd actually like you to answer:
The initiative that's stuck right now — is it stuck on building it, or on making it bigger?
Be specific if you can. Is it a 0-to-1 problem, where the thing doesn't fully exist yet and needs someone comfortable inventing in the fog? Or a scaling problem, where it works but won't reliably repeat, and needs someone who builds systems and consistency?
Naming which one it is tends to be half the fix. Drop yours in the comments — I'll read every one and reply.
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The initiative that's stuck right now — is it stuck on building it, or on making it bigger?
Building something and scaling it are two different jobs. Naming which one you're missing is usually half the fix.
So which is it?
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The biggest mistake I see founders make: assuming every great builder should become an operator.
They're different jobs that reward different instincts.
A builder takes an idea everyone agrees should exist and makes it real. Ambiguity energizes them. A blank page is a playground, not a threat. But ask that same person to run a mature, optimized machine for years and they get restless and bored.
An operator is the opposite. Hand them something that works and they'll make it bigger, tighter, more profitable. They turn a foundation into a franchise. But drop them into a 0→1 mess with no map, and the lack of structure can be paralyzing.
Neither is better. Neither is a flaw. They're built for different phases of the same journey.
The trouble starts when we pretend they're interchangeable — when we promote a brilliant builder into an operating seat and call it growth, or hire a world-class operator to invent something from nothing and wonder why it stalls.
The best ventures I've seen are relay races, not solo runs. A builder gets it standing. An operator makes it soar. The handoff between them is where the real value compounds.
So before you hire — or before you judge yourself for not loving the phase you're in — ask which one you actually are. And then go find the other.
Which one are you?
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A builder makes it exist. An operator makes it bigger. Most good things stall the moment you ask one to be the other.
Put a builder in a mature operating role and watch them get restless. Everything already works, so they start breaking things just to have something to invent. Put an operator into a 0-to-1 mess and watch them freeze — there's no system to optimize yet, no data to trust, nothing to make more efficient. Both are talented. Both are miserable. And both look like performance problems when they're really fit problems.
I've watched this play out on team after team. The builder who was electric in the early days becomes the bottleneck once the thing needs to scale. The seasoned operator who took someone else's company from ten million to a hundred can't get a blank page off the ground. Neither failed. They were each asked to do the other one's job.
There's research behind why this is so predictable. Studying 200+ startups, Noam Wasserman found that founders are most likely to be pushed out right after their biggest wins — because success changes the job. What comes next rewards a different set of instincts than what got them there. The person didn't get worse. The job changed under them.
The takeaway isn't "builders are better" or "operators are better." It's that they're different, and the strongest ventures pair them on purpose — an inventor to make it exist, an operator to make it endure. The mistake is expecting one person to be both, or hiring the wrong one for the moment you're actually in.
So before you hire, get honest about which one you are — and which one you're missing.
Are you the builder or the operator on your team? And who's the counterpart you still need? …more
Told 2 times, Jul 7, 2026
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Put a builder in a mature role and they break things just to have something to invent. Put an operator in a 0-to-1 mess and they freeze.
Both are talented. Both look like performance problems. They're fit problems.
My first business got me sent to the principal's office.
I was a kid, and my mom taught me a trick that felt like magic: buy a pack of Hubba Bubba at the grocery store for 25 cents, break it into individual pieces, and sell each piece for 25 cents. A quarter's worth of gum became a dollar twenty-five.
I ran the whole operation out of my school locker. I had regulars. I had a supply chain. I understood distribution before I'd ever heard the word.
Then a teacher noticed a kid moving product out of a locker with a steady line of customers and came to the obvious conclusion: I was dealing drugs. It was Hubba Bubba. I got hauled in to explain myself.
Looking back, that little gum hustle taught me the thing I still believe about entrepreneurship: it's not some rarefied skill you learn in a boardroom. It's just noticing where you can add value and bringing something a little closer to the people who want it. That instinct shows up early — usually before you have a word for it.
What was your first "business"? Drop it in the comments — I bet it started earlier than you think.
🎙️ From my conversation with Julia Lucidi on the Founder Tactics podcast. Full episode: https://youtu.be/M58Dnn2UAlM …more
I understood distribution before I'd ever heard the word. I was a kid selling gum out of a locker.
Entrepreneurship isn't a boardroom skill. It's noticing where you can add value — and most founders were doing it long before they had a name for it. …more
Talent, timing, network — none of it matters if you quit before the moment arrives.
Most founders don't quit because they failed. They quit because they haven't succeeded yet — and in a hard moment, those feel identical.
They're not. The breakthrough is closer than it feels. …more
My first business got me sent to the principal's office.
Bought Hubba Bubba for 25¢, split the pack, sold each for 25¢. A quarter became $1.25.
A teacher saw me moving product and assumed I was dealing. It was gum.
Entrepreneurship is just noticing where you can add value. …more
"Our marketing isn't working." I've heard that in almost every company I've been part of. It's rarely where the problem actually lives.
Years ago I watched a startup tear itself apart over exactly this. Sales blamed marketing for weak leads. Marketing blamed sales for fumbling the ones they sent. Both were sure, both were loud, and both were wrong.
The real problem was two doors down, in the product.
The UX team had rolled out a new version built on a new mental model. The old product worked like email: you create a message, attach a big file, hit send. Everyone already knew how to do that. The new one worked like a shared, collaborative file system — cleaner on paper, but it asked users to think in a way they didn't yet think. They opened it and didn't get it.
That confusion didn't show up with a label that said "mental-model mismatch." It showed up as soft demos, stalled trials, and a sales team and a marketing team pointing at each other. The symptom surfaced at the front of the funnel. The cause was sitting in engineering.
Once we accepted that and reshaped the experience to feel like email again — meeting people inside the mental model they already had, instead of the one we wished they had — it unlocked everything.
This pattern shows up in the data too. When CB Insights studied hundreds of failed startups, the headline cause was "ran out of money." But they were careful to call that the final event, not the reason. The real reasons lived upstream — the product didn't fit how the market actually thought. The empty bank account was just where it finally became visible.
Marketing and sales are usually the windows, not the wound. When they're both struggling, I've learned to stop refereeing the fight at the window and go find the wound.
What's the visible problem you keep trying to fix — and what might actually be underneath it? …more
Told 2 times, Jul 3, 2026
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Marketing and sales are the windows, not the wound. When both are struggling, stop refereeing at the window — go find the wound.
Visibility has become part of the job.
I don't think most founders have accepted this yet.
Twenty years ago, you could build a successful business with very little public presence.
Today, that's becoming harder.
Not because people want influencers.
Because people need signals.
Before they buy.
Before they refer.
Before they trust.
They want evidence.
How do you think?
What do you believe?
Have you solved this problem before?
The market used to discover expertise through institutions.
Today, it increasingly discovers expertise through content.
That's why visibility isn't vanity.
It's discoverability.
And for expertise-driven businesses, discoverability is becoming a competitive advantage. …more
We're halfway through the year. I've been doing a lot of thinking about what's actually worked in my marketing vs. what I thought would.
Here's my honest take.
What I expected to work: a polished content calendar, consistent posting across multiple channels, well-designed assets.
What actually moved the needle: direct conversations that started from a single, specific LinkedIn post that named an exact pain point my audience was feeling.
The post wasn't clever. It wasn't visually interesting. It was just specific and true. It got more inbound messages than anything I'd posted in the previous three months combined.
The lesson I keep relearning: marketing feedback loops are much shorter than founders think. You can know within 30 days whether a message is working — if you're watching the right signal. Not follower count. Not impressions. Conversations started.
That's the metric I watch now above everything else. How many people responded to something I wrote and said "this is exactly what I'm dealing with"? That's the leading indicator that content is building pipeline.
The other thing that worked: teaching something specific in every post instead of sharing opinions. Opinions get likes. Teaching gets DMs. DMs become customers.
My Inspiring Founders community on Skool is where I share what I'm learning as I learn it — if you want to follow along, join us. It's free: https://www.skool.com/inspiring-founders-5861/about …more
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