The change began with a phone call on a cold evening. It was the kind of trigger you do not recognize as a trigger when it happens. After a brief introduction, it was all over in seconds: I was making the move into startups, trading numbers for wood.
Eyal, a friend from military reserve duty: “Keisar, I need an accountant.”
Idan: “But I’m not a real accountant. What exactly do you need?”
Eyal: “I have an idea for the fastest startup in history.”
Idan: “And there are a million startups that are history. But let’s meet this week and talk.”
What I needed was something to pull me out of my comfort zone. That was exactly how the opportunity to move into startups arrived.
When the universe sends you signs
I received my CPA license after completing my internship in the economics department at PwC Kesselman, part of an industry that celebrates work for work’s sake. We will come back to that. The economics department gave me outstanding financial and analytical tools.
I mainly worked on valuations, writing and presenting strategic and financial plans, and business development in the startup world. Market research and business planning fill me with enormous enthusiasm and a child’s curiosity. That is why I continue providing these services to others as part of my purpose.
As part of a large consulting group, I worked on varied projects with a wide range of experts and companies. I owe a great deal to that part of my professional life. But life was signaling that I needed something to release me from the familiar path of salaried employment in Israel.
The OECD was not lying when it described how hard we work compared with the rest of the West. About two years later, as I write these words in October 2016, I find myself in the middle of an exciting change.
*Photo of the alcove in Eyal’s apartment*. [Our first meeting in Eyal’s room, Ramat Gan, December 2014.]
Eyal: “Keisar, I just moved into this apartment, and I’ve spent two months looking for a cabinet that fits this alcove.”
Idan: “Okay. Have you thought about having something built?”
Eyal: “Not interested. I don’t know much about wood or carpentry. Besides, I don’t really want to leave home for this. I even went to IKEA while looking for a cabinet and bought everything except what I needed.”
Idan, the rational part of me speaking: “How could you not find it at IKEA? Surely there are already websites offering custom furniture.”
We had everything, and we had nothing
About three and a half months later, we were back in that room: three people who had become partners in a formally incorporated company, intoxicated by our achievements and a little whiskey. Those months flew by, but they were a turbulent journey as we tried to navigate territory that was new to all of us.
Eyal brought the idea, endless creativity, and the motivation of Christopher Columbus. I brought professional financial knowledge, although this was actually the first company I had founded. Noam brought a technical background and turned out to be a fascinating visionary. He also happened to be Eyal’s cousin.
We already had so many of the ingredients we thought we needed to buy a vacation home in Australia in 2018: a good product name, extensive and in-depth market research, a brilliant business model, a written business plan, a goal with a deadline, KPIs, a limited company, a team ready for action, and plenty of wind in our sails.
We had one major problem, one I was still dealing with as I wrote this. Some would simply say, “They got the product wrong.” Others might add, “They had no experience designing a physical product, and they got almost everything wrong along the way.” Either way, we were stuck. I will return to that.
*Photo of us working on a prototype, and on ourselves*
The move into startups was complete. Was it a success?
Entrepreneurship had always attracted me. I studied accounting because I believe it is the language of business, and to talk business I needed to know that language. Like the silent majority, I spent years as an employee. Then an unexpected stroke of luck arrived in the form of a disagreement at work.
Like many first-time founders, I innocently thought I could disrupt the world and conquer it after working hours. Like most founders, I made mistakes, learned, and made more mistakes. During the day, my work involved researching Israeli startups in general, and accelerators and technology incubators in particular.
At night, I worked on founders’ agreements, supplier contracts, a product that was falling apart, logo designs, and endless discussions about which way the wind was blowing. Since the 2000s, and especially during 2014–2016, nothing in the Israeli economy was more attractive or interesting to me than the Startup Nation ecosystem.
The firm’s senior management apparently did not share my view. To quote: “The Israeli startup scene does not interest me.” A week after the meeting in which that remark was made, I told my partner I wanted to leave. I had tried to square the circle, unsuccessfully.
And so, with only a sliver of certainty—plans and resources for the next two months, and no more—I was pushed out of my comfort zone. The move into startups was complete. “The comfort zone is a beautiful place, but nothing ever grows there.” The beauty of quotations is that fools and geniuses can both use them: the former in ridiculous situations, the latter at decisive moments. That is why I allow myself to borrow other people’s sayings on all kinds of occasions.
At Passover in 2015, I went from freedom into servitude, taking on the privilege and burden of assembling a puzzle with countless pieces. It was a life puzzle I had only just begun when I left my comfort zone. In that unexpected phone call from the past, my future told me that my relationship with startups and design had begun.
*Photo of me with my cut-up employee ID, an end-of-internship tradition in Israeli economics departments*
