Hello friend.
Why you’re getting this: this is my no‑BS playbook for founders who want margin over vanity.
If you want the TED Talk version, this isn’t it.
If you want the paycheck version, keep reading.
I used to chase cool.
Press hits.
Seed rounds.
Panel invites.
The whole cosplay.
Then I noticed something uncomfortable.
The loudest founders were usually broke.
The quiet ones owned HVAC companies and printer‑toner routes and drove paid‑off trucks.
They didn’t trend.
They compounded.
Boring is the new brilliant.
Here’s why.
In my 20s, I wanted to be “the guy.”
A disruptor in Allbirds with a perfectly timed eyebrow raise on podcasts.
I had the deck.
I had the dream.
I did not have the cash.
Meanwhile, Metalab sat there like a golden retriever.
Uncomplicated.
Patient.
Profitable.
We made beautiful software for other people and got paid every 30 days.
No fireworks.
Just deposits.
If you want the newsletter tone I practice, read the confession that started this shift: I Want You To Hate Me.
It’s the same courage muscle you need to pick boring over shiny.
A friend pitched me a dog‑dating app.
He had a gorgeous deck and zero revenue.
Another friend quietly mentioned his linen service was renewing three‑year contracts with every restaurant in town.
He yawned.
Then told me his EBITDA.
That was the moment.
I didn’t need more courage.
I needed a new target.
For more on compounding the unsexy, listen to the longform riffs on the Never Enough Podcast.
It’s where I workshop this stuff out loud.
Grease traps.
A guy named Phil.
Coveralls.
No website.
$6M in profit.
I almost spit out my coffee.
He didn’t want to sell.
He wanted to golf more.
You can keep the glass box offices.
I’ll take Phil.
Would Warren buy this?
Not “would TechCrunch tweet this.”
Contracts beat clicks.
Switching costs beat slogans.
Boring moat > sexy logo.
If the answer is yes, I dig.
If the answer is “viral opportunity,” I pass.
I learned this the hard way.
The market doesn’t care how clever you are.
It cares how fast you fix pain.
Linen on Friday.
Insects out by Tuesday.
Invoices sent by month‑end.
If you like stories with actual numbers, here’s one I still laugh about: I Made $20,303 Power Washing Driveways.
Yes, really.
Yes, it scales.
No, you don’t need a mascot.
Because they don’t want competition.
That’s it.
The best operators practice strategic boredom in public.
They hide in plain sight and bank the spread.
You won’t see them on stage.
You’ll see them at school pickup.
That’s the flex.
When I travel, I write down the boring businesses with lines out the door.
Commercial window cleaning.
Asphalt patching.
Niche dental SaaS.
Private garbage routes.
Every one of them smells like recurring revenue.
If three shops in a city do the same thing and all look busy, there’s room for a fourth.
That’s not disruption.
That’s dinner.
Romance says start.
Math says buy.
There’s a demographic tsunami of profitable, no‑succession mom‑and‑pop operations.
They have customers.
They have systems.
They have dust.
Blow it off and 2x without a single press hit.
If you’re new here and want the longer origin story, the About page gives you the boring‑to‑brilliant arc.
SaaS at 18% net can feel like victory.
Pest control at 45% net is Tuesday.
Urgency prints money.
If something is gross, urgent, or regulated, margins magically appear.
Price for the panic, not the pitch deck.
You’re a relief provider.
You Need 10 Who Never Leave
I built a life on a handful of clients who wired money without drama.
They referred friends.
They didn’t nitpick.
They paid the premium to sleep at night.
Boring makes it possible to choose your 10.
Exciting makes you beg for your 1,000.
I’ve advised companies with $20M in the bank and a founder who looks 10 years older.
I’ve also owned a documentation tool so dull it made my eyes water — and I slept like a baby.
Hype buys you attention.
Boring buys you August.
That’s the point.
Your moat is apathy from the Cool Kids.
Low‑status niches attract low‑ego killers.
That’s a great room to sit in.
Show up.
Do the work.
Renew the contract.
Repeat.
Subscription isn’t just for software.
Lawn care is a subscription.
Filter changes are a subscription.
Quarterly grease‑trap cleanouts are a subscription.
If you can put it on a calendar, you can put it on autopay.
That’s your LTV.
Try haggling with a family whose furnace died in February.
They want heat, not a discount.
You’re not a commodity.
You’re a lifeline.
Charge accordingly.
Then show up early and over‑communicate.
Would I be happy if nobody knew I owned it?
Is the pain urgent and recurring?
Would customers cry if we closed?
Can a GM run it?
Can I 2x without hiring a VP of Vibes?
Three yeses and I’m in the car.
I love AI.
I also love asphalt.
While smart people debate models, boring people bank margin.
The trick is to be bilingual.
Run a blue‑collar P&L with white‑collar tooling.
If you want the running commentary on how I’m blending both, subscribe to the Newsletter.
I share the messy middle there first.
Revenue consistent or lumpy?
Churn real or imagined?
Founder essential or optional?
Explained in one sentence or requires a whiteboard?
Moat from contracts, geography, or relationships?
Four green lights and I ask for bank statements.
Yellow lights get a coffee.
Red lights get a polite “pass.”
It Means Stackable
I know a guy with 30 tire shops and zero social media.
He wears New Balance and a smirk.
He stacked one good thing.
Then another.
Then another.
That’s empire math.
A friend bought one laundromat.
$75K down.
$10K a month free cash.
Today he has six.
He still drives the same car.
Different bank account.
That’s the play.
Find one right boring thing.
Multiply quietly.
Skip the cosplay.
Find recurring pain.
Be dependable.
Be invisible.
Get rich.
The world rewards people who solve unsexy problems on time.
The margin hides where the cameras aren’t.
Go there.
What’s a “boring business”?
Anything that solves an urgent, recurring problem without fanfare, and throws off cash predictably.
Are these scalable?
Yes.
By process, not press.
Roll‑ups turn small into serious.
How much capital do I need?
Less than you think.
SBA, seller finance, and boring cash flow do heavy lifting.
Start or buy?
If you can, buy.
You skip the zero‑to‑one desert.
What are good categories?
Home services, B2B services, niche SaaS, healthcare back‑office, regulated maintenance.
How do I price?
For relief, not romance.
Charge like you’re removing pain, because you are.
How do I find deals?
Brokers, cold outreach, your accountant, your barber, your inbox.
Ask who’s tired.
What’s the real moat?
Contracts, geography, switching friction, relationships, and boredom.
Won’t I be bored?
Maybe.
But you’ll be free.
Freedom beats fun on a long enough timeline.
Where should I read more from you?
Start with the Newsletter, binge the Podcast, and skim About if you’re new here.
Then read this little proof‑of‑concept: I Made $20,303 Power Washing Driveways.
Boring businesses aren’t a consolation prize.
They’re the cheat code.
They buy you August.
They buy you school pickup.
They buy you a life.
If you want to get rich by solving unsexy problems, stop performing and start compounding.
Boring is the new brilliant.
Go where the margin hides.
Get Your Copy of Never Enough at https://www.neverenough.com/
