Startups love speed. Someone has to install the brakes.

Startups love speed; someone has to quietly install the brakes before the cliff.

You know you're that person in a startup when everyone's hyped about “blitzscaling,” and you're the one asking if we can still make payroll in six months.

You mention supplier risk, cash burn, or the fact that VC money isn't infinite—and suddenly you've killed the vibe harder than a Jira ticket during demo day.

Congrats: you're the adult in the room. No one asked for one… but they'll be glad you showed up.

Bringing structure, discipline, and forward visibility to a creative, growth-obsessed company can feel like walking into a party and turning off the music. But you're not there to kill the energy—you're there to make sure the roof doesn't cave in.

I've been in that seat more than once. Especially in companies burning through cash with the belief that “we'll just go raise more.” For years, that strategy worked. Capital was cheap, and runway planning started with pitch decks—not models.

But capital cycles end. And we're living through one now. Suddenly, the founders who once rolled their eyes at worst-case scenarios are asking for cash forecasts and debt alternatives.

In a previous role, and not so long ago, I remember saying: one of your biggest risks is losing access to your Chinese supply chain. It sounded like sci-fi at the time—even to me. Until it didn't.

Forecasting the ugly isn't about pessimism—it's about stewardship.

And creating that balance often means changing the culture at the top. Not by handing out lists of what could go wrong, but by making room for the harder question: what's our plan B?

Because here's the truth: things rarely unfold the way you planned. But if you've taken the time to think through failure modes—really think through them—you'll respond faster, make sharper decisions, and keep your team grounded when the unexpected hits.

You're not the bad guy for asking the tough questions. You're the one making sure there's still a company to celebrate when the music stops.

If you've been that adult in the room—how have you walked the line?