I was standing in the middle of Gulshan 2, drenched in sweat, holding three packages that needed to be delivered across Dhaka before 6 PM. This wasn’t part of some grand strategy. This was desperation. We had promised Poter Bibi we’d deliver her products, and we didn’t have enough riders yet. So I became the rider.
The bus to Mohakhali was a tin can on wheels, packed so tight I had to hold the packages above my head to keep them from getting crushed. The smell hit me immediately - sweat, fried onions from someone’s lunch, diesel fumes seeping through broken windows. A man’s elbow dug into my ribs. The packages - wrapped in brown paper, addresses scribbled in marker - were pressed against my chest. My phone rang. Another merchant asking for pickups. I couldn’t reach my pocket to answer.
The distance between thinking about doing something and actually doing it is where most startups die. Not from lack of ideas. From the paralysis of overthinking.
The Pivot That Mattered
We launched Pathao as an instant delivery service. The whole pitch was built around speed. Get your package in an hour. Revolutionary, right?
Then Poter Bibi, a Facebook merchant selling sarees, gave us 20 deliveries and destroyed my worldview: “I don’t need instant. I need reliable two-day delivery but just reduce the proce.”
I could have argued. I could have waited to gather more data, run surveys, validate the new direction. Instead, I pivoted immediately. That same day, I started reaching out to other Facebook sellers. Within a week, we had signed up dozens who all wanted the same thing: reliable, affordable logistics. Not fancy tech. Just basics done right.
Why could I move that fast? Because the decision was reversible. If two-day delivery didn’t work, I could pivot again. We hadn’t signed ten-year contracts. We could test, learn, fail, and adjust.
When NOT to Move Fast
Here’s what nobody tells you: not all action is smart action. Some decisions can’t be undone easily. Those are the ones you need to slow down for.
In our second year, we were growing fast. I wanted to close funding quickly. A local investor offered to invest at very predatory terms, but I was desperate. I almost signed.
Fahim Saleh stopped me. “This is irreversible,” he said. “Once we take their money, we’re locked in. Let’s take two more weeks.”
I was annoyed. Two weeks felt like forever. But he was right. We slowed down, talked to more people. The valuation was not just low, the liquidation preferences were punishing, the investor wanted board control. If I had moved fast on that, we would have crippled the company.
Jeff Bezos talks about this as Type 1 versus Type 2 decisions. Type 1 decisions are one-way doors - hard to reverse, high stakes. Type 2 decisions are two-way doors - easy to reverse, low stakes. For Type 2 decisions, move fast. For Type 1 decisions, slow down and think.
The problem is we treat everything like Type 1. We overthink which email to send. We debate for weeks about trying a new marketing channel. But most decisions are reversible. Hiring someone on trial? Reversible. Testing new pricing? Reversible. Personally delivering packages? Reversible.
Signing away equity, locking into long contracts, choosing the wrong co-founder - those are irreversible. Think hard on those. Everything else? Just do it.
The Laziness Trap
The biggest enemy isn’t competition. It’s your own laziness disguised as “strategic thinking.” We tell ourselves we need more information. More validation. More certainty. But really, we’re just scared of doing uncomfortable work.
In Bangladesh, this manifests specifically. We love planning. We love meetings. We love PowerPoints with five-year roadmaps. But we hate the messy, unglamorous work of actually starting.
I saw this with our first tech hire. He spent three weeks designing the “perfect” dispatch system on paper. Beautiful diagrams. Elegant architecture. Zero code written. I finally told him, “I don’t need perfect. I need working. Build something ugly in two days that dispatches one delivery correctly. Then we’ll improve it.”
He looked offended. But that ugly system, held together with duct tape and prayers, is what we used to dispatch thousands of deliveries while he slowly built the better version.
Airbnb’s founders didn’t wait for perfect technology. When they noticed hosts uploading grainy photos, they grabbed a camera and went door to door in New York, personally photographing apartments. Bookings doubled. It wasn’t scalable. But it worked because they did it instead of talking about it.
Start Ugly
Your first version will be ugly. Your first attempt will fail in ways you can’t predict. You will feel stupid. But you have to start anyway.
When we first built dispatch software, it crashed constantly. Riders got lost. Packages went to wrong addresses. We had to call customers and apologize, then personally fix the mess. But each mistake taught us something. Each failure made the next version slightly better.
So here’s the framework: before you delay a decision, ask yourself one question - is this reversible? If yes, do it now. If no, take the time to think it through. Most things are reversible. Most actions can be undone, adjusted, or pivoted away from. The only thing you can’t reverse is time wasted overthinking.
I think about that bus ride sometimes. The smell of sweat and diesel. The packages pressed against my chest. The absurdity of it all. But that ridiculous afternoon led to conversations with merchants, which led to more deliveries, which led to understanding what customers actually wanted. None of that would have happened if I’d sat in a cafe waiting for a “better system.”
Don’t wait. Don’t overthink. If something needs to be done, korte hobe. Do it now. Ugly is better than nothing. And action, when it’s reversible, is always better than inaction.