Pure profit has never sat right with me. It frustrates me, because some days I want it to.
There's a version of me that wants to chase every dollar. Squeeze the pricing, take any client, optimize the funnel until it squeaks. It ultimately always loses to the other voice in my head.
Yvon Chouinard never wanted to be a businessman. He started out selling climbing gear from the back of his car and ended up giving Patagonia away. The whole company. Its profits, around $100 million a year, now go to fighting the climate crisis.
Melanie Perkins heard no from more than a hundred investors before anyone funded Canva. The company has now been profitable for eight straight years. She and her husband recently moved the next piece of their pledge: the vast majority of their stake promised away, starting with $150 million in direct cash, about $550 each, to adults in Malawi.
When you run in certain circles you're told it's all about the money. Canva prints money. Patagonia's sales grew a third the year after it told people not to buy its jacket. These aren't people who couldn't play the pure-profit game. They're better at it than the loud guys. They just decided what the game was.
My path has definitely been slower than others because of the continuous choice to prioritise what is important to me. Not that there's anything wrong with chasing the money. It can be a powerful driver if it fits your mission. I just don't have the conviction to make it my number one incentive. Definitely in my top three, just never on the first spot. Stronger foundations build better legacy (I think).
🎵 Pink Floyd — Money A song sneering at money that became one of the best-selling records ever made. Purpose, profitably.
— Nicc