The Brutal Self-Assessment

Most want outcomes, not the brutal process. But the process is what gets you the outcomes

Most people aren’t built for this. And that’s fine. But if you’re going to try anyway, you better know what you’re signing up for.

The mirror test doesn’t happen in boardrooms or pitch decks. It happens alone at 2 AM when the adrenaline wears off and you’re left with just the math and voice inside your head. When you realize this isn’t a temporary rough patch - this is the job. Every day. For years. Maybe forever.

Curiosity isn’t enough. Neither is persistence. You need something else - the willingness to sacrifice everything for something that might not work.

Stop Lying to Yourself About Why You’re Here

Here’s the uncomfortable truth: most people who say they want to start a company are lying. To investors, to their families, to themselves.

They don’t want to build a company. They want the outcome of having built one. The Forbes list. The TED talks. The freedom. They want the highlight reel, not the process.

The process is ugly. It’s carrying packages across Dhaka on crowded buses because you promised 60-minute delivery without having the money to hire any delivery agents. It’s eating instant noodles for months while your bank account bleeds red. It’s watching friends get married and buy apartments while you’re still sleeping on borrowed money and borrowed time.

You think you’re ready for that? Really ready? Because here’s what nobody tells you: the clock is running backwards now. Every month you spend pretending to be a founder while actually being unemployed is a month you can’t get back. Every relationship you damage, every opportunity you pass up, every night you don’t sleep - that’s gone forever.

You’re not 22 anymore. Time doesn’t care about your startup dreams.

The Math Will Kill You

Investors love asking about “founder-market fit.” Why are you the best person to build this? What’s your unfair advantage? It’s mostly theater.

Mark Zuckerberg had no experience building social networks. Brian Chesky wasn’t a hospitality expert. The best founders don’t have perfect resumes - they just see a problem and refuse to accept that it can’t be solved.

But here’s what will kill you: playing games with other people’s money because you think passion trumps math.

We nearly destroyed Pathao by floating on merchant cash. Here’s how it worked: we collected cash from customers on behalf of merchants through COD - cash on delivery. Customers paid us, we paid merchants weekly. That gap became our breathing room.

At first, it was a cushion. Then it became a crutch. We started using that money to patch day-to-day holes. Paying riders. Covering fuel costs. The line between “temporary float” and “we’re running this company on merchant cash” blurred quickly.

We had negative working capital. Every Friday became a survival test. I’d wake up at 6 AM, stomach already tight, and start the math. Cash in hand. Payroll due. Merchant payouts scheduled. Rider payments pending. If one thing slipped - if a rider “lost” cash (happens more often than I’d like to admit), if a payment got delayed, if a big merchant demanded early payout - we’d be screwed.

I didn’t sleep much during those months. Not because we were failing, but because we were surviving on a razor’s edge. Every morning started with cash reconciliation. Every night ended with a gut check: would we make it to Friday without breaking?

One week, a major merchant - one who moved serious volume through us - called on Wednesday demanding immediate payout. Their own cash flow had hit a wall. They needed the money now, not Friday.

I stared at the spreadsheet. If I paid them, we couldn’t cover rider payments. If I didn’t pay them, they’d pull all their business and probably tell every other merchant we were unreliable.

I paid them. Then I spent the next 48 hours scrambling to cover the hole, calling in favors, delaying other payments, moving money around like a shell game. We made it through. Barely.

In Bangladesh, we watched Evaly burn through customer prepayments and merchant money until the math stopped working. When the music stopped, there were no chairs left. That founder went to jail.

Be the Founder You Need to Be

Want to know the real secret? Stop trying to act confident. Everyone can see right through you. Start being the person who deserves to succeed.

You want investors to believe in you? First, become someone worth believing in. You want employees to follow you? First, become someone worth following. You want customers to trust you? First, build something that deserves their trust.

The transformation isn’t optional. You either become the person this company needs, or the company dies. There’s no middle ground.

Do the math. You’re trading 3-5 years minimum, probably 7-10 if you’re being honest. Every relationship, every opportunity cost, every sleepless night - that’s the price. Most startups fail. Most founders end up with nothing but scars and therapy bills.

But here’s the part nobody tells you: even if you win, even if you exit, even if you make the Forbes list and everyone calls you a success - you’re still carrying what it cost. That version of you who could make the hard calls? That version doesn’t retire when you do.

You kill the person you were and hope something stronger grows in its place. Some people come out the other side better. Harder, yes. Scarred, absolutely. But clearer about what matters and what doesn’t. Others come out broken. Still functional, still successful maybe, but fundamentally changed in ways they didn’t sign up for.

And you won’t know which one you’ll be until you’re already too far in to turn back.

That’s the real risk. Not failure. Not losing money. It’s losing yourself and finding out too late that you can’t get back what you gave up. The person I was before Pathao - the one who thought passion and hard work were enough - he’s gone. The person who replaced him can do things the old version never could. But I’m not sure that’s always a win.

So before you start, make sure you’re willing to live with who you’ll have to become. Because that person is staying. Long after the company is sold or shut down, you’re still carrying what it made you do.