Look at all those chickens

Hi,

I promised a banger this week, so it feels only fitting to talk about expectations versus reality... but I’m not going to do that.

Today, we’re talking about not counting your eggs before they hatch.

Before diving into The Hero’s Journal story, I want to share a lesson I’ve learned from a competitor of ours: BestSelf.

Calling them a competitor might be a stretch—though they did name one of their products The Little Hero’s Journal (that’s a story for another day). In 2022, news broke that BestSelf had sold their business, which was exciting for us. It validated the idea that there’s a buyer’s market for companies like ours.

But fast forward 14 months, and the founder announced they were buying the business back from the private equity firm.

Their explanation for what happened is worth reading here.

To me, though, the issue seemed clear: the private equity firm tried to scale the business using theoretical ad math.

The logic probably went like this:
“There are X customers looking for journals on Amazon. Our current return on ad spend (ROAS) is Y. Therefore, if we scale ad spend to Z, we’ll achieve X scale.”

This approach is a common trap in direct-to-consumer (DTC) businesses. Online selling lacks one key variable of sales: humanness. Ads need to resonate deeply, connect meaningfully, and solve real problems—not just follow a mathematical formula.

Conversion optimization, A/B testing, SEO—these tools are great, but they’re not static. You can’t say, “Our website converts at 4%, so we just need more traffic.” You have to continuously refine and adapt.

And yes, I’ve fallen into this trap too.

The Hero’s Journal

Last week, our heroes were untangling a bad 3PL partnership. This week, we ventured into the theoretical math I just warned against.

Here’s how it went:

• “We processed 2,000 orders last month, up 500 from the previous month. If we keep scaling ad spend, we’ll reach 3,000 orders soon.”

• “At $3 per order for 3PL services, that’s $9,000/month. We could afford a warehouse space and hire someone to ship.”

What did we do? We started looking for a warehouse. And we found one—a dream location.

This wasn’t just any warehouse. It was called The Pendragon Building (we love pens and dragons), and it had it all: a two-story garage we could turn into shelving space, five bedrooms upstairs, and an insane view of Lake Washington. Plus, living there would offset costs—it was basically free... or so we thought.

The owner initially denied us after seeing our financials, but I decided to make our case directly. Thankfully, he took a chance on us, and we got The Pendragon Building.

Living and working there was a transformative 18-month period. We learned so much—about risk, growth, and reality not matching theoretical math.

The takeaway? Math doesn’t always translate perfectly in business. Growth can be messy and nonlinear. Great things did happen, but success wasn’t as simple as “spend more on ads and everything works out.”

Atypical

This week, Atypical Life launched its second merch line. I won’t go into too much detail since it’s still fresh, but the growth compared to the first drop is undeniable.

The marketing materials were better. The organization of orders was better. The reception on release day was better.

We had projections for how much we could sell, but one thing we’ve learned: don’t count your eggs before they hatch.

Reading/Podcast

It’s been a whirlwind week, but I wrote down this quote from John C. Maxwell in my journal:

Potential is a tricky concept, but I love Maxwell’s optimism.

Coffee

This week, I’ve been mixing my coffee with chai tea powder, and it’s been amazing. It’s a reminder of a simple truth: if you like something, it doesn’t matter whether others think it’s good. Snobbery is lame—enjoy what you enjoy.

Conclusion

The pressure to deliver a “banger” was real. I did it to myself, but still.

This newsletter might not seem like a “banger” on paper, but moving into The Pendragon Building was life-changing. It taught me so much about taking risks, adapting to reality, and embracing the unexpected.

Maybe that’s the real banger—the experience itself.

To infinity,
Kyle