If I had to guess, the underlying thought behind this advice is — what can you do to make some money on the side?
I usually just nod. Not because I have nothing to say, but I am busy calming my triggered self. This advice usually comes up once I have transparently shared that we have not managed to raise any institutional funding, which translates to not being able to pay myself a salary for (more than) a while. In an instant, it feels like all the work I’ve done — all the progress my team and I have made — is forgotten, just because there’s nothing to show in the bank. With time, I have been able to zero in on why this advice is especially triggering.
At its core, it brings up a clash of values for me. If what I am doing does not make money, does that take away from the impact I have created? Usually, I start by sharing my background — so I’m always left wondering: which part of my career trajectory convinced you I’m in this for the money?
I’ve come to realize I misunderstood how non-profits work — it’s not the quality of the product or service that matters most, but your ability to raise funds. In my head, I am always hoping that staying committed to my venture with no pay in sight would signal my passion and conviction, but it never lands as such. I have no issue with people questioning my problem selection, solution design, or even our impact, but being advised to shift focus just to make money feels like a dismissal of what I’m truly trying to build.
By definition, a founder and a CEO have to do different things at a start-up. With that frame, is it really a big deal to take on a few consulting projects? On paper, it sounds totally doable, but to me, the real cost is reduced focus — and the heavy toll of constant context-switching. Building something requires all your focus. The one thing I have learned the most in these last eight years is how you have to fight to focus in the social sector, especially when your venture is young. You have to fight the temptation to solve everything at once — and to chase whatever’s currently fundable. For example, I know so many education orgs in the social sector who shifted focus to Foundational Literacy and Numeracy (FLN) once the funding winds changed in that direction. Even a small consulting practice would pull me away from the very thing I want to build. With less time and more context switching, the toll on my focus would be real.
Lastly, I am an operator at heart. Very early on in my social sector career, I realized that I was not suited for any supportive role that has me sitting in an office just attending meetings and pushing out documents — presentations, reports, thought leadership articles, etc. I do appreciate a good consultant, but that's not who I want to be. Even part-time consulting feels like signing up for something that would slowly chip away at what energizes me. The money might be there, but deep down, I know I’d be trading a part of my soul.
In many ways, my response with a nod when hearing this advice is an acknowledgement of the underlying problem I have with my venture. I know my explanations can come across as defensive, but in my opinion, solving for funding would require me to focus more and spend more time improving my fundraising skills. Not consulting on the side isn’t a luxury — it’s a necessity for what I’m trying to build.
Lately, I have been thinking a lot about one of the first books I read about the social sector — How to Change the World? by David Bornstein. The book introduced me to the concept of social entrepreneurs and Ashoka, the organization that identifies such people worldwide. The Ashoka Fellowship comes with a stipend for the Fellows — it exists so Fellows can focus full-time on solving the problems that matter.
Ironically, hearing this advice repeatedly has helped me see my problem — and its solution — more clearly. I may not be an Ashoka Fellow, but I too need the space — and the support — to focus full-time on solving what matters.
P.S. And that’s exactly what I’m going to do — figure out who can support me with a stipend as I build my venture.
*FRA, short for Frequently Received Advice, is a series of posts on the well-intentioned but often unhelpful advice I have received as I build CoolCoach. In most situations, I wanted to respond, and respond strongly at that, but I mostly chose to hold my tongue. Partly because I knew it was my frustration coming out, but mostly because I had no indication it would be received or understood. With these posts, I hope to share my perspective.