Every problem I solved twice was a product I ignored

The first time you solve a problem, you're a professional.

The second time, you're a professional with déjà vu.

The third time, you should start asking questions.

It took me years to ask them.

When you run an agency, every job arrives dressed up as something unique. A new client, a new logo, a new deadline. So you treat it as unique. You open a blank project, you build, you invoice, you move on.

And a few months later a different client asks for the same thing in different colours.

And you build it again.

The disguise fools you first

The trick is that clients never describe the problem. They describe their version of it.

A rural guesthouse doesn't ask for "a booking system". It asks how guests can see whether the room is free in May. A sports club doesn't ask for "recurring payments". It asks how to stop chasing families every month.

Different words. Same pain.

In 2020 we worked with both kinds of client. Rural tourism and the first payments for clubs. I've already written about that. What I didn't write was the uncomfortable part: I'd been solving variations of the same few problems for a long time, and treating each one like a first date.

A problem you solve twice is a coincidence. A problem you solve three times is a product you haven't admitted to yet.

Why I looked the other way

I could blame lack of time. That would be half true.

The other half is that projects are comfortable. A project has a beginning and an end. A client who tells you what they want. An invoice with a date on it.

A product has none of that. Nobody tells you when it's finished. Nobody pays you for the first version. You're betting hours you could have billed on something that might never sell.

For two people with no investors and no safety net, that bet feels expensive. So you keep billing. It's the sensible thing to do.

Until you notice that the sensible thing has you rebuilding the same calendar one more time.

What changes this year

Nothing dramatic. No pivot. No launch. No press release nobody would read.

Just a habit. Before starting any job, I ask one question: have I built this before?

If the answer is no, it's a project. Fine.

If the answer is yes, it might still be a project. But I build it so I can use it again. Less custom glue. More pieces that travel.

And if the answer is "yes, several times", it goes on a list. Not a roadmap. A list of problems that keep coming back. I suspect that list is worth more than any idea I could have on my own.

The services still pay the bills. That doesn't change. What changes is that some of those billed hours start building something that belongs to us.

Patient money, spent a little less patiently.

I used to think déjà vu was a sign I was getting experienced.

Turns out it was a sign I was getting paid to ignore the obvious.

P.S. If you're a client and you think your request is one of a kind: it might be. But I'm going to ask myself the question anyway.