I talk a big game about experimentation, but it’s hard to back it up.
I never enjoy admitting an experiment is working the way I’d hoped. I spin up stories about what it means that the experiment didn’t work.
I’m a failure.
I have no creativity, no business acumen, no X factor.
People will view me differently now.
The admitting is the hardest part, but on the other side there is so much expansion.
I’m speaking from very recent experience.
This iteration of Gateway Coaching isn’t working.
There isn’t product-market fit. Coaches understand that value of the platform. There’s an organically growing waitlist of coaches who want to join the platform.
But I didn’t realize that marketing Gateway in its current form meant essentially educating potential consumers on an entire industry. Most folks don’t know the difference between coaching and consulting and mentoring. And education is just the beginning. Once they understand what coaching is, they have to trust the platform and then find their coach. It’s a long sales cycle that would cost a lotta time and money, a heavy load for a bootstrapped company to bear.
I bit off more than I could chew.
I knew and resisted that truth for a few weeks. Gateway Coaching is the first project I’ve started that wasn’t self-contained. There are over 20 coaches on the platform, coaches who hoped Gateway would help them earn the experience hours they need for their ICF credential. Beyond the familiar narrative of being a failure, I felt like I’d failed them. That was a fresh pill of shame to swallow.
My inner wisdom has a low tolerance for incongruity, so, as soon as I admitted to myself that Gateway Coaching wasn’t working, portals of possibility opened.
It became clear that I had three options:
Rework the business model.
Sell the company.
Dissolve the company.
Those options led to action.
I listed the company for sale. Not a multimillion dollar acquisition deal (lolz). Just enough to recoup most of my costs. I started chatting casually with potential buyers and truly thought I’d hang my founder hat up for a while.
I reached out to the founding coaches. Every month, I send them a video update about the platform. This month’s update forced me to show up as the transparent leader I aim to be. Recording that video is one of the most intimidating things I’ve done in recent memory. I shared a version of what I wrote there, pressed send, and tried not to look at my inbox for the rest of the afternoon.
What happened next still brings a tingle to my spine. Coaches replied with words of encouragement, offers of support, constructive feedback, and even an alternative business model that I’m seriously considering.
Wow.
There are portals of possibilities that are waiting to open up for you, but they’ll remain closed until you’re honest about what’s not working.