In defense of linear

Last week, the elevator stopped.

One of many stops over nearly a decade of slow, linear ascent. But this time, there was a rocket waiting on the platform outside the door. Not my rocket — somebody else's. And I was offered a pass to board it.

A seven-figure acquisition offer. A leadership role. Equity. A chance to merge the business and join something growing faster.

For a moment, I considered it.

But first, some context.

Lately I've been struggling with Keygen's pace. With bootstrapping. With playing it safe. With being a solo founder.

Growth has been positive, year after year, but slow and linear — boringly linear. And I started to resent that. I started to feel that I'm somehow failing — that maybe I'm somehow not cut out for this. Otherwise, shouldn't I see an exponential curve forming at some point?

I wanted more — more challenge, more speed, more community, more recognition. More money. More noise.

And so I daydreamed about metamorphosing Keygen into something I'd been intentionally avoiding at all costs: a fast-paced, investor-backed startup. I dreamed of owning a unicorn.

I wondered if I'd been thinking too small.

I wondered if I'd been too cautious.

I started to believe the lie that a "lifestyle" business is somehow lesser-than. That if you're not chasing hyper-growth, you're wasting potential. I started to feel like a small fish in a sea of sharks, and I was tired of being the smallest fish everywhere I swam.

I've watched startup founders grow fast, build great teams, work in cool offices, and gain recognition on socials. I felt like I was being left behind. And in that headspace, when the offer arrived, it felt like a way to skip ahead — out of my linear trajectory into something exponential.

I wanted the crowd to cheer for my rocket.

But after the call ended, and the more I thought about it, the clearer it became: I'd be giving up exactly what I'd spent the last nine years working toward. I'd be giving up something I've spent so much time — so much of myself — building, and I've barely enjoyed the fruits.

Keygen provides me freedom.

Keygen provides for my family — not just with money, but with time. I don't answer to investors. I don't answer to a board. I don't waste my time in meetings all day. I don't need permission to take time off. I don't do things I hate. I can take 2 months of paternity leave without asking anybody. I can work on things that excite my creativity.

I can rest in the slow-paced, wonderful life I've made with my wife.

Giving all that up isn't a trade I'm willing to make just to go faster.

Just to fulfill some ego trip, really.

The offer wasn't bad. But it came at the cost of control, something I've spent a long time on obtaining. And it came at the cost of the calm, and that's something, for a little while, I forgot that I cherished.

The boredom and loneliness are real, but they're not solved by exiting. They're solved by hiring slowly. By growing carefully. By continuing on the linear path, even when the pace feels too slow.

Linear growth is good enough. It adds up. And it gives me the space to keep going — on my terms, and eventually with my team.

Keygen is a calm, profitable business. It's not a startup.

So I said no.

The elevator doors closed.

And we keep going.