Small and profitable is not a consolation prize

There's a look people give you when you say your company has no investors.

It's the same look a waiter gives you when you order tap water. Polite. Slightly disappointed. A bit sorry for you.

I've seen it many times. I've stopped minding.

The company that doesn't count

In the startup world there's a very clear ranking.

At the top, the ones who raised a big round. Then the ones who raised a smaller one. Then the ones looking to raise. And at the bottom, almost out of the picture, the ones who just sell things and get paid for them.

That's us.

Foxnice is a small company that pays its own bills. We started with 300 € in 2014, with Yeray, without a euro from anyone. We sell web services, look after our clients' websites, and use that money to build our own products.

To that world, it doesn't count. It's a "lifestyle business". A nice little thing. The consolation prize for people who couldn't get into the real competition.

I used to half believe it. I'd explain Foxnice almost apologetically. "It's small, but…" As if a "but" were needed.

The prize nobody mentions

Then I started looking at what the "real" prize actually includes.

A round doesn't buy you time. It puts a clock on you. Someone has given you money expecting it back multiplied, and the clock starts that day. Every decision after that is made with someone looking at their watch.

I don't say that with any resentment. It's a valid deal for some companies. Some things can only be built with a lot of money, fast.

But it is a deal. And people talk about it as if it were a medal.

A small company that pays its own bills isn't the prize for losing. It's a different game, with better rules for the people playing it.

What we get in exchange for being small and profitable is boring to list, and huge to have.

We decide what to build, and when. If a product needs another year, it gets another year. If we get something wrong, we fix it without writing a report explaining why to anyone. Nobody can force us to grow faster than we know how to grow well.

That's the price of the slow route: it's slower. But it comes with the right to make mistakes without giving explanations.

Why I stopped apologising

I think the problem was never the company. It was the scoreboard I was using.

If you measure by size, by headlines, by how much someone has put into you, we'll always come last. Fine.

If you measure by freedom, the ranking flips. And I've always wanted freedom more than size. In my experience, the two rarely grow at the same time.

So now when someone gives me the look, I don't explain anything.

I just think: our clients' money arrives without a deadline attached, and nobody can call me on Monday to ask why we didn't grow on Friday.

If that's the consolation prize, I'll keep it.

It consoles me quite a lot.

P.S. If you're reading this from a startup: no hard feelings. Just check your watch.