Never Enough by Andrew Wilkinson

My Thoughts

Fantastic story.

I have admired Andrew for a long time. The frist time I heard him speak was on the My First Million Podcast. He is one of the most popular guests on that show and for a good reason. His story is fascianting and a lot to look up to. I have listened to a few of his interviews where he talked about various stories from his life, but getting this raw story in a book format is great.

Initially, I though about this book as a collection of lessons he learned along the way (which it sort of is), which is why I first read it with the intention of making a lot of notes. Then, about half way thrpuigh the book I just started reading for the story and stopped making notes. Reads very easily and very captivating at the same time.

One thing is for sure, his story is not finished. Yes, the book has an ending, but there is no way it ends here. I’m sure we will here more interesting stories in the future.

I definitely recommend it to anyone interested in building a business.

Learnings

As I mentioned above I stopped reading this book for notes and immediate learnings, I just enjoyed the story. So here are a few tangible learning I picked up from the book. I’m sure I have internalized way more that will surface up later one.

• Andrew tried various business ideas, many of which failed, but he kept trying. This persistence eventually led to his success.
• Business is about solving problems for others. Don’t forget that on your next venture.
• Asking for more than expected often led to favorable compromises.
• You have to be able to connect with people, there is just no way around that. You have to come out of your shell if you are an introvert.
• In SF, friendliest looking people are usually the most dangerous ones.
• Finding people who enjoy doing the tasks you dislike is crucial for the long term success of your business.

Highlights

WHAT’S YOUR NUMBER?

After Mark had taken over the company, I had tried to not work, but found that challenging. When I bought a turntable and started DJing for fun, I soon picked up a regular spot at a local club in Victoria, and before long had the great idea to start an online DJing school. I still can’t tell if this idea was as bad as my cat furniture business, or if I was just a decade ahead of my time before online classes became a norm, but either way, my DJ school was a flop.

I was constantly coming up with business ideas. When I noticed a cluster of small pink bumps on my upper arms, I did some research and discovered that they were “chicken skin,” a harmless cosmetic skin condition that was easily resolved with an over-the-counter skin cream. I immediately launched a site, ChickenSkin.org, and ordered hundreds of bottles of cream that I had a dermatologist formulate for me. I didn’t sell a single bottle. As far as I know, they’re still in the basement of our old office.

Note: Andrew is not talking about trying things, he does them and fails. That’s why he is so good now.

I did a few projects, thinking they were the golden egg, like Andrew did, but they flopped. This discouraged me a bit, but it shouldn’t. I just need to focus on quantity, until I make it!

When Chris and I started our company, Tiny, we had said that if we could pick just one person that we’d want to meet it would be Charlie Munger. We had even commissioned bronze busts of Munger and Buffett, then placed them on the fireplace mantel at our office. Some of the people who visited us and didn’t know who these men were asked, “Are those your grandpas?” But many instantly recognized our heroes and were equally enamored, inquiring if we could make a bust for them, too. (Given that I saw everything as a potential business idea, I noticed so many people wanted busts of Munger and Buffett that we spun this into a side business that still makes tens of thousands of dollars a year.)

Note: A literal reminder that anything can be made into a successful business if you know what people want.

“And we have no intent on ever going public.”

This caught his attention.

“You guys seem smart, but being public has its benefits,” he said, leaning in.

“Why?” Chris asked. “Doesn’t it create a slew of problems?”

“No, no, no,” Munger said. “It creates a slew of opportunities.”

He started to rattle through a long list of reasons why being a public company can be ideal. He explained that “the man who taught Warren how to invest” at Columbia University was Benjamin Graham, who described the stock market as “Mr. Market,” a character whose mood swings depended on the news, the weather, and just about anything else that would put him in a good or bad mood. “Sometimes Mr. Market is fearful and undervalues your company. Other times, he’s euphoric, sending your stock to the moon, far beyond any sane valuation,” Munger explained. “This creates opportunities for investors. It gives you the ability to buy back your shares at a great price, or to use them to buy other companies. Being public is wonderful, if you do it right. The key is to avoid thinking about it too much, being honest and diligent, and slowly building a reputation for doing the right thing.”

THE WILKINSON CURSE

“It’s a mistake to be deeply ideological about almost anything,” he said. “It’s better to have doubt.”

Tolstoy once wrote, “Happy families are all alike; every unhappy family is unhappy in its own way.”

I’d hear their voices, usually disagreeing about some new expenditure—echoing up the staircase, where I’d sit listening, refereeing in my head. Eventually, he’d give up and apologize, but my father’s resentment would then fester until it finally erupted in the worst possible scenario:

business, even one run by a twelve-year-old, was at its core about solving problems for other people.

While I was upset that I wouldn’t get to meet Steve Jobs, I realized something important. I had asked for something amazing and gotten something great in exchange. If I’d asked for a tour of the Apple Store, I probably would have gotten a “nice try, kid,” but by shooting for the moon and asking for something that was hard to give, I was met with a compromise that was better than I could have hoped for. It’s a strategy I went on to use throughout my career: there’s no harm in asking.

HAIR FOLLICLE FINANCING

—with a little sweat and hustle, a sprinkle of bullshit on top, and a heaping of luck could start a company. It’s the old fake-it-until-you-make-it strategy

A few days later, I sent over my initial designs. The company loved them, and immediately asked me to code a JavaScript prototype. In my head, I started to panic, because I didn’t really know how to code anything more than a basic website. I certainly didn’t know how to build something of this level, with all the fancy design elements I’d included.

“No problem!” I told my new customer as sweat beads formed on my forehead.

In a panic, I reached out to a developer friend. I sent him the design of the site and asked him how much he would charge to write the code.

“Maybe a thousand bucks?” he told me.

Expecting to get negotiated down, I told my new client that it would cost $2,000 for the coding of the prototype. The client sent a one-line email response: “Perfect.” My jaw dropped. It wasn’t intentional, but I had just made a 50 percent profit margin after I paid my friend.

I’d read so many books on businesses and design, but it wasn’t until I made money as a middleman that it all started to make sense to me. In that moment, I immediately stopped seeing the world as a barista, or even the customer, but as the boss.

“We’re the top interface design firm in North America,” I would tell a throng of startup founders in a packed bar at the SXSW conference, as I took a swig from my cheap American beer, not mentioning that I had made up this label and we were likely the only interface design firm in North America because there simply weren’t any others.

I hadn’t realized it, but this ability to sell and market is what started to really set me apart from my competition. I had reasonable taste and design sense, but my time as a barista had taught me how to make friends with just about anyone. Most of my competitors—folks who ran agencies—were nerdy programmers who looked at their shoes when talking to a potential new client. My sales technique was simple: be fun to drink with and ask a ton of questions about whomever I happened to be talking to. It worked surprisingly well.

Note: I guess I’m the latter in this example. That bar example is making me a little anxious just by testing it.

At conferences, I quickly started to learn that the most important business connections were made in bars, gossiping with drunk executives. Buying a round of drinks often generated a huge return on investment. For instance, there was a big Facebook party in Austin, where I got a crowd of startup founders wasted on my credit card. I must have bought a hundred tequila shots that night. It was a monstrous bar bill, but it more than paid for itself a few months later, when they needed design help and one of them (whom I clearly didn’t get drunk enough) remembered my name and reached out to see if my “interface design firm” was accepting new business.

I realized through it all that in Silicon Valley everyone plays nice, wearing goofy hoodies and padding around in Allbirds, looking like friendly college kids. But inside, most were just as ruthless as their Wall Street counterparts. I soon came to prefer the super-direct pseudo-assholes I worked for over the fake magnanimous ones. Over time, I observed that the founders who purport their ethics in kumbaya mission and values statements are often the most dangerously full of shit.

SCRATCH AND DESTROY

This had led me to the epiphany that there is always somebody else who loves the job you hate.

BELGIAN TRUFFLE FARTS

We all seek external gratification based on what our peers tell us we should want.

WHO WANTS TO BE A BILLIONAIRE?

“Some mornings I wake up and I want to work my ass off day in and day out to be the next Steve Jobs. Other mornings I wake up and daydream about buying a tiny house, an old beat-up car, having no overhead, and leaving the stress of the business world behind.”