I, on the other hand, collect Keepalls from the 1980s. They’re over 40 years old, yet still in incredible condition. They smell like history. They’ve got scratches, scuffs, a bit of wear. Each one has a pulse. Each one feels like it’s lived a life, carrying stories I’ll never know. They’re not commodities – they’re companions.

And don’t even get me started on the quality. There’s no way any bag you buy today will still be around in 40 years. My bags from the 80s? I guarantee they have another 40+ years ahead of them with the proper care I give them.

Whether it’s a vintage Louis Vuitton Keepall from the 1980s, a 70-year-old Blue Note jazz record, or a 30-year-old Porsche 911 – I’ll take the old, unique, imperfect version over the latest release every single time.

Because while the new stuff might look “perfect,” the old stuff has a soul.

Cracks, Pops, and Soul: Why I Collect Old Vinyl

I spend an embarrassing amount of money on 70-year-old jazz vinyl. Original Blue Note pressings, Village Vanguard recordings, the greats at their best. These records aren’t perfect – far from it. They have scratches, pops, and clicks. The covers are torn, frayed, and sometimes they smell like a basement.

Michelle hates them. She thinks they’re flawed, broken, and ugly. But for me, those so-called flaws are exactly what make them magical. They carry the soul of decades past, the energy of every room they’ve been played in. When I drop the needle, I don’t just hear Coltrane or Miles Davis – I hear the history of that physical record, every scar baked into it.

Sure, I could listen to a pristine, remastered digital version of Blue Train – but it’s sterile, flat. I want the raw, imperfect, living version. I don’t want to hear what the music could be in theory. I want to hear what it actually is, scratches and all.

Why a 30-Year-Old Porsche Beats a Shiny New One

I live in central London right now, and truth be told, I need a car about as much as I need a hole in my head. But if I were to buy one, it wouldn’t be the shiny, gadget-packed model sitting in the dealership today. It would be something with history, with patina – a 30-year-old Porsche 911 over a brand-new one any day.

Modern cars come with every imaginable bell and whistle – touchscreens, driver-assist tech, buttons stacked on buttons. But strip all of that away and ask: where’s the soul? Where’s the connection?

Give me raw engineering, unfiltered. A steering wheel that actually fights you back, gears you feel in your bones, an engine that roars instead of whispers. No autopilot. No software updates. Just a machine built to be driven, not to drive itself.

Old cars remind me that less really is more. They’re imperfect, inconvenient, sometimes even dangerous by today’s standards. And yet – they’re alive.

Why It Matters (The Bigger Point)

Collecting old things isn’t about nostalgia. It’s about authenticity, craftsmanship, and soul. I don’t want the newest, most pristine object – I want something that’s been lived in, tested by time, and still standing strong.

That reflects my own philosophy: I’d rather own fewer things that carry meaning than piles of shiny, disposable junk. Quality over quantity, every single time.

And here’s the bigger angle – in business and in life, chasing the “new” is easy. Anybody can copy the latest trend, add more features, or buy the next shiny thing. That doesn’t take taste, or commitment, or vision. The real challenge is to find what’s unique, nurture it, and stick with it through the imperfections. That’s where the real value lies.

Closing Thoughts

At the end of the day, I’m not collecting bags, records, watches, or cars. I’m collecting stories, character, and meaning. The scratches, the pops and clicks, the dents – those are the fingerprints of time.

New things may shine, but old things endure. And in a world obsessed with more, faster, newer, I’d rather invest my time, money, and attention in the things that actually last.

The post Why I Prefer Old Stuff Over New Shiny Things appeared first on Thomas Michael - Founder Coach & Strategic Advisor.

If there’s one reason my life is richer, calmer, and more productive than ever, it’s this: I stopped doing things that drain me, annoy me, or just don’t serve any real purpose. Many people chase happiness by cramming more onto their to-do list. I do the opposite. I got intentional about what not to do.

This idea isn’t new, but it hit home for me when I saw Greg Isenberg share his “things I’m not doing anymore” list. It was so simple, so obvious, and yet so rare. So I started my own. Every month, I review it, update it, and hold myself accountable. My not-to-do list is my blueprint for a happier, saner, more meaningful life.

Why a Not-To-Do List Matters (And How I Build Mine)

For most of my career, I bought into the lie that doing more equals living better. More goals, more hustle, more obligations. All it got me was a busier calendar and a mind that never shut off. Eventually, I realized that real productivity and happiness come from doing less – less of what drains me, distracts me, or keeps me stuck.

That’s why I started my not-to-do list. Every month, I sit down and review it. My criteria are simple, and I don’t make exceptions:

• If it drains my energy, it’s out.
• If it creates stress for no good reason, it’s off the table.
• If I’m only doing it to serve my ego, not my real life, it gets axed.
• If it doesn’t move the needle on my happiness, fulfillment, or impact, it’s gone.
• If I’m doing it out of guilt, habit, or “because I always have,” I scratch it.
• If it makes my life smaller or more resentful, it’s history.

This isn’t about running from challenges or hiding from reality. It’s about intentionally making space for the people, projects, and experiences that add real value and joy to my life.

What’s On My Not-To-Do List Right Now

Here’s where things get real. This list isn’t theory – it’s the choices I actually make, month after month, to protect my energy and design a life that works for me:

• I don’t schmooze with random strangers at networking events. I never enjoyed it and I’ve stopped pretending it’s valuable. If a connection matters, I rely on personal introductions from people who know me and who I respect, not roomfuls of business cards.
• I don’t prioritize work over workouts. My health is non-negotiable. If the calendar gets tight, the gym wins. Everything and everyone is just going to have to wait.
• I don’t defer trips until “things settle down.” Life never really slows down and there’s never the perfect moment. If I want to go, I book it.
• I don’t fly long-haul red-eyes in economy anymore. One day lost to feeling like shit isn’t worth it. I value my health and my time too much.
• I don’t connect with random strangers on LinkedIn anymore. If there isn’t a clear, mutual, long-term benefit, I don’t hit accept. I just got rid of 80% of my LinkedIn connections and am not about to start collecting random faces or meaningless digital acquaintances again. My network is now intentional, curated, and valuable – quality over quantity, every single time.
• I don’t let guilt or pressure force me to respond to calls or emails immediately. I’ll get to it when I’m good and ready. My time, my rules.
• I don’t ignore health issues or procrastinate on self-care. I’m proactive, even if it means paying out of pocket for scans, tests, or treatments. Health before wealth.

Some of these might sound blunt or even ruthless. That’s the point. Every “no” on this list creates space for a bigger, better “yes.”

The Results – What Actually Changed When I Started Saying No

This isn’t theory or wishful thinking. The moment I started enforcing my not-to-do list, everything shifted. It’s all part of my Life by Design approach.

• More time and energy: I don’t waste hours on small talk, inbox ping-pong, or soul-sucking obligations. That space is now filled with the stuff that actually moves my life forward – workouts, trips, meaningful work, actual downtime.
• More clarity: By stripping away the noise, it’s obvious what (and who) is worth my attention. Decision-making is faster and less emotional.
• Less stress: Fewer pointless commitments means fewer drains on my mental bandwidth. I don’t let FOMO, guilt, or other people’s priorities run my day.
• Stronger relationships: With a curated network and more intentional connections, every conversation is higher-value, more enjoyable, and far less transactional.
• Better health: By refusing to put work, travel, or social obligations ahead of my well-being, I’m in the (almost, but not just yet) best shape of my life – mentally and physically.
• Real freedom: Saying “no” by default gives me the space to say “hell yes” to the right opportunities, people, and experiences.

The best part? None of this required superhuman discipline. Just the guts to put my happiness and priorities first.

Your Turn – Build Your Own Not-To-Do List

If you’re tired of feeling busy but unfulfilled, maybe it’s time to try subtraction instead of addition. Start by creating your own ‘not-to-do’ list. Write down every obligation, habit, or “should” that drains you, bores you, or keeps you stuck. Audit it ruthlessly. Then start by simply saying ‘no, thank you’, or just by quietly letting things go.

You’ll be surprised how quickly clarity and freedom show up when you stop doing what no longer serves you. Remember: every “no” is just space for a better “yes.” It’s your life – design it accordingly.

The post My Not-To-Do List: What I’ve Stopped Doing to Start Living appeared first on Thomas Michael - Founder Coach & Strategic Advisor.

My Mantra – Launch Early, Fail Fast, Iterate Often

If there’s one lesson that’s followed me through every venture – from building my previous company into a SaaS leader, to launching experiments at Tomco Capital, to bottling my own gin – it’s this:

Launch early, fail fast, iterate often.

I didn’t invent the phrase, but I’ve lived it for decades. When we pioneered online SAP training, there was no roadmap, no “proven” model. We went first, took small calculated risks, and figured it out as we went. Not everything worked – some things crashed hard – but the point was, we didn’t wait for perfect. We shipped, we learned, and we did it again.

That same mentality is exactly what led me to gin. Not because I had a big business plan or dreams of building a spirits empire – but because I was curious, a little bored, and wanted to see how far I could get by just starting.

The Beefeater Epiphany – You Don’t Need a Giant Team

Not long ago, I took a tour of the famous Beefeater distillery in my neighborhood in central London. Here’s what blew my mind: the entire global supply of Beefeater gin is made in a plant about the size of a modest apartment building. The operation is run by a master distiller and two apprentices. That’s it.

Every excuse about “needing a huge team,” “millions in capital,” or “perfect infrastructure” fell apart right there. If three people can supply the world with one of the best-known gins, what was really stopping me – or anyone else – from launching something on a smaller scale?

That visit didn’t just demystify the gin business. It became a metaphor for entrepreneurship: scale isn’t about headcount or resources. It’s about focus, process, and the guts to do things differently.

I walked out thinking, if the big guys can do it lean, so can I. And so can you.

Just Start – How Tom’s Gin Came to Life

Armed with nothing but curiosity (and a newfound respect for simplicity), I decided to try making my own gin. No pedigree, no “plan” – just a willingness to get started and figure it out as I went.

I sourced a base spirit, ordered botanicals, and started distilling in embarrassingly small batches. The first try – Tom’s Bathtub Gin – wasn’t exactly world-class, but it was a start. Each round, I learned what worked (and what didn’t), tweaked the process, and kept iterating. That’s how Tom’s Blindmaker Edition was born, followed by Navy Strength and Gunpowder Gin. Some tasted great. Some were barely drinkable. All of them taught me something new.

Here’s the point:
You don’t need a perfect recipe, massive resources, or even a clear endgame.
You just need the guts to take the first shot, the humility to learn quickly, and the discipline to try again. Most people never get started because they’re waiting for permission, a plan, or some magical moment of certainty. That moment never comes.

What Tom’s Gin Really Is (and Why That’s the Point)

Let’s get real: Tom’s Gin isn’t a revenue machine, and I have zero plans to take on Tanqueray. Right now, it’s a passion project – a hobby with a label. Most of what I make gets “quality tested” (read: drunk) by me, and whatever’s left goes to friends and family. I’m not bottling dreams of global domination; I’m bottling curiosity.

And that’s exactly the lesson:
You don’t need grand ambitions, massive budgets, or an airtight business plan to start something.
You just need to be willing to move, to experiment, to accept that it might not work out (and to laugh when your first batch tastes like pine cleaner).
Anyone can start a gin brand – or any project, business, or side hustle – if they stop overthinking and just begin.

The only thing that separates you from the people doing the work is action.

The Real Lesson – Stop Waiting, Start Making

If you take anything from my gin experiments (or three decades of building companies), let it be this: The winners aren’t the ones with the best plan – they’re the ones who move first, learn fast, and aren’t afraid to look foolish along the way.

Stop waiting for permission, capital, or the “perfect” idea.
Start with what you have, launch early, fail fast, and iterate often.
You’ll never regret trying. You’ll only regret sitting on the sidelines, watching someone else bottle their own version of success.

What could you start – today – that you’ve been overthinking for years?
Chances are, you’re closer to your first batch (and your next breakthrough) than you think.

Want to stop overthinking and actually launch your next project or business? That’s exactly what I work on with my coaching clients. If you’re serious about taking action and want a partner who’s done it all, failures included: book a call with me.

The post How to Start a Gin Brand (and Why You Should Stop Waiting for Perfect) appeared first on Thomas Michael - Founder Coach & Strategic Advisor.

The Turning Point – Choosing Intentional Living

Let’s get something straight: I’ve never been unhappy or stuck in a rut. My life, especially during my New York years, was full – travel, friends, business, experiences, you name it. But even in the middle of all that momentum, I couldn’t shake the feeling that much of it was happening to me, not by me. There was plenty of activity, but not enough intentionality.

That’s when I met Jack Daly and discovered his Life by Design philosophy. Jack isn’t your average self-help guy – he’s lived intentionally for decades, and it shows. His message was simple but powerful: if you don’t architect your life, it’ll get built by accident.

It wasn’t about fixing a broken life – it was about trading autopilot for intentional living. Jack’s approach pushed me to go beyond “busy” and start asking what I actually wanted from my days, my years, my experiences. It challenged me to become the designer, not just the passenger, of my own story.

Jack Daly’s Blueprint – What Living By Design Really Looks Like

Jack Daly’s approach is brutally pragmatic. Forget vision boards or vague resolutions – he’s all about taking control and living with intent. Jack’s “Life by Design” means identifying what you want more of (and less of), mapping it out, and then tracking your progress like your life depends on it – because it does.

Intentional living isn’t about micromanaging every minute or sucking the spontaneity out of your days. It’s about refusing to drift. It’s the difference between coasting through another year on autopilot and consciously building a life that actually lights you up.

When I first saw how Jack tracked everything – his workouts, adventures, relationships, milestones – I realized this wasn’t about control. It was about making sure the stuff that matters most actually happens. If you don’t make space for it, the rest of life will crowd it out. Simple as that.

Adopting intentional living means putting purpose at the center, and being ruthless about what you allow on your calendar. That’s not rigid – that’s freedom.

How I Practice Intentional Living – My Real Tracking System

I took Jack’s idea and stripped it down to something brutally simple. No complicated apps or color-coded dashboards – just a running note on my iPhone. This is intentional living with teeth.

Each year, I set clear, measurable targets for the things that actually matter to me:

• Strength training: 80 sessions
• Cardio: 40 sessions
• Swimming: 40 sessions
• Yoga/Pilates/Stretching: 40 sessions
• Sauna/Steam: 50 sessions
• Massage: 12 sessions
• Average daily steps: 8,000–9,000+
• Blood pressure: Keep average <135/85
• Events (concerts, shows, experiences): 12 minimum
• Date nights: 12 minimum—each one planned, not left to luck
• Trips, vacations, adventures: Every single one logged by month and year

Whenever I knock out a workout, book a trip, or do something memorable, it goes in the log. Some categories are ahead of schedule, others fall behind – but there’s no guessing and no hiding from the truth. That’s the beauty of intentional living: you always know exactly where you stand and what needs to change.

My Mid-Year Reality Check

So how’s it working? At the halfway mark, my log tells the truth – no room for ego, no place to hide. Some targets (strength training, sauna, events, travel) are right on track or ahead. Others – like cardio, stretching, or massages – could use more focus. That’s not failure; that’s the point.

The power of intentional living isn’t in perfection. It’s in the awareness and the ability to course-correct in real time. Instead of drifting and hoping I’m “doing okay,” I know where I’m crushing it and where I’m falling short. When I see a gap, I adjust. I book the trip, schedule the date night, call the trainer, or make the time for what matters.

This level of honesty and ownership means less regret, more momentum, and a sense of agency that just doesn’t exist when you leave your life to chance.

Why Intentional Living Matters (and What Actually Improves)

Here’s what’s changed for me: my life is less about “did I stay busy?” and more about “did I do what actually matters?”

I’m investing more in health, relationships, and real experiences. There’s less regret, less autopilot, and a hell of a lot more stories to look back on. Even when I fall behind in a category, at least I know and I can act, instead of just drifting.

Intentional living isn’t about squeezing joy out of life – it’s about squeezing more joy, meaning, and purpose into it. It’s about building a life worth remembering, not just letting the calendar fill itself.

Here’s my version of the classic Peter Drucker line:
Peter said, “What gets measured, gets managed.”
But I think it’s simpler: What gets measured, gets done.
If you don’t track what matters, you’ll fill your days with things that don’t.

Your Move – Design Your Own Year

Here’s my blunt challenge: Where in your life are you just hoping things will get better, instead of making sure they do?

Pick two or three things that actually matter – your health, your relationships, your adventures, your creativity. Track them for the next 90 days. No fancy tools. No perfection required. Just keep score, adjust as needed, and watch what happens.

You are always just one decision away from a totally different life.

That’s what Jack Daly’s Life by Design approach has given me: not a perfect blueprint, but the permission to live intentionally, measure what matters, and build a year that’s actually worth living.

So what are you waiting for? Start living with intent and make the next chapter one you’ll actually remember. If you need a coach to help you with this, book a call with me.

The post Life by Design – How I built a Life of Purpose, Intent and Meaning appeared first on Thomas Michael - Founder Coach & Strategic Advisor.

Landing in Slow Motion

Arriving in Crete was like stepping into a different time zone – one where nobody seems to care what day it is, let alone what hour. We checked into a five-star design hotel perched above the Mediterranean, tucked away in a village so small it barely shows up on a map. Forget the usual crowds; it’s mostly locals here, with a handful of other travelers blending in quietly.

On our first afternoon, we wandered down to a tiny beach taverna. No English menu, no pressure. Mama’s in the kitchen, Dad’s sitting at the counter, sipping raki with water. The son, Adonis, smiled and said, “Today, my mom cooked chicken and potatoes. That’s what’s for lunch.” No debate, no choices needed. Alongside came a fresh salad, warm pita, proper tzatziki, and a carafe of Cretan wine. The meal took two unhurried hours, capped with yogurt and honey for dessert and two tiny cups of coffee.

For a moment, it hit me: I hadn’t checked my phone since we sat down.
Heaven.

The Poolside Pace and the Pull of Old Habits

Back at the hotel, the contrast was impossible to ignore. The infinity pool was lined with sun loungers, all of them occupied, yet almost everyone seemed glued to a screen. Phones, tablets, even laptops in the blazing sun. I watched one guy spend the entire day typing away, never once looking up at the view.

I could see it in the faces around me: that familiar restlessness. The compulsion to check messages or scroll for updates, even in paradise. I recognized it because I’ve lived it – traveling halfway across the world only to chain myself to Slack or email out of habit, not necessity.

Here, everything operates at a pace I’ve started calling the Mediterranean hour. Drinks arrive when they arrive. Meals stretch out with no rush. The staff move with purpose, not panic. It’s not a lack of care – if anything, it’s respect for the moment. But for anyone raised on “hustle” culture or the instant reflexes of a New York minute, this kind of enforced patience is both uncomfortable and, eventually, strangely refreshing.

From Urgency to Ease

Crete’s rhythm couldn’t be more different from the hustle cultures I’ve lived and worked in. A few weeks ago, I was in Dubai, where the atmosphere crackles with energy and every conversation feels like a pitch or a deal in motion (see my Dubai reflections here). Before that, I spent years in New York, where the “New York minute” isn’t just a phrase – it’s a way of life. There, waiting even sixty seconds for a coffee or a crosswalk feels unreasonable, almost insulting.

But here, the Mediterranean hour is the law of the land. Nothing is urgent. Meals aren’t events to rush through – they’re rituals to savor. Service is friendly, never frantic. There’s a deliberate refusal to let time control the experience.

If you’re used to racing the clock, this kind of environment is more than culture shock – it’s a test. The truth is, slowing down is hard if your default mode is acceleration. It’s especially tough for founders and high achievers who define themselves by what they accomplish and how fast they can do it.

But what struck me, once I stopped fighting it, is that the real luxury isn’t a beachfront suite or even the food – it’s the chance to disconnect from urgency itself. To feel the anxiety of “doing nothing” fade and discover what happens when you finally let yourself settle into the moment.

The Founder’s Freedom Test

If you’re a founder, here’s a challenge that Crete threw right in my face: Can you disappear for a week without your business skipping a beat? No frantic calls, no emergency emails, no micromanaging from afar. If the answer is no, you haven’t built a business – you’ve built yourself a very demanding job.

I’ve lived both sides of this. In my early days, I was convinced everything would collapse without my direct oversight. The idea of an actual vacation, where I truly unplugged, was laughable. But over the years, I learned to build an autonomous team of talented individuals, to put real systems in place, and to step away without fear that the wheels would fall off.

The result? Real freedom. Not just the freedom to travel, but the freedom to be present – to slow down, enjoy long meals, and let my mind wander. In Crete, I saw how rare that actually is. Most people are still tethered to their inbox, even by the pool. But if you build your company right, you get to experience what most only dream about: genuine time off, with nothing urgent hanging over your head.

What You Gain by Letting Go

Here’s what no one tells you: when you finally let go and trust your business to run itself, you don’t just get a break – you get your mind back.

You start to notice things you would’ve missed before: the way the sea breeze feels at lunch, the subtle differences in tzatziki from one taverna to the next, a conversation that drifts into unexpected territory simply because you have the time to let it.

Your best ideas don’t come from staring at a screen or racing to inbox zero. They arrive in the quiet, when you finally let your brain off the leash. And back home? Your team grows in confidence and skill, because you’re not hovering over their every move. Real leadership is about building something that works when you’re not watching.

This isn’t about laziness or checking out. It’s about creating the kind of autonomy that lets you live at least a little bit of life on “Mediterranean hour” – not just for a week in Crete, but every day.

The Real ROI of Slowing Down

So here’s the real test: Are you building a business – or a lifestyle – that lets you step away? Can you trust your team, your systems, and yourself enough to unplug for a week and truly live on your own terms?

If you’re still glued to your phone at the pool, still measuring your worth by how busy you are, maybe it’s time to reconsider what “success” really means. Anyone can fill their calendar. The real ROI comes from being present – long lunches, lazy afternoons, and letting life unfold at its own pace.

The Mediterranean hour isn’t just a slower clock. It’s a challenge to design your business (and your life) for freedom, not just for growth. It’s not about doing less – it’s about finally having the space to do what actually matters.

Here’s to building businesses that give you real time, real presence, and the option to disappear without everything falling apart.

The post Trading the New York Minute for the Mediterranean Hour appeared first on Thomas Michael - Founder Coach & Strategic Advisor.

It sounds ridiculous until you realize this is exactly what most successful people stop doing – and why they eventually plateau.

Once a year, I travel to Folsom, California and go to a five-day drum camp hosted by Mike Johnston – one of the most gifted, passionate educators in the drumming world (and a really nice human being, too). Eight drummers. One house. Zero hiding. It’s brutal. It’s 5 days of humble pie. Also, it’s one of the most rewarding and growth-packed things I do all year.

This isn’t some jam-band vacation. It’s five days of nonstop failure – botched fills, seemingly impossible independence drills, and the kind of caring feedback that makes you question whether you’ve ever touched a drum before. And I keep going back.

Why do I do it?

Because this is the environment I wish more CEOs, founders, and leaders forced themselves into.

Let me explain.

Lesson 1: If You’re Not Sucking, You’re Not Growing

Most leaders unconsciously build lives that protect them from ever feeling like a novice again. They surround themselves with validation, avoid discomfort, and outsource difficulty.

At drum camp, there’s nowhere to hide. You’re on the kit in front of everyone, botching bar after bar of some advanced ghost note groove while the others cheer you on for surviving 10 seconds in tempo.

And then come the nightly sheds – the most terrifying part. You get on stage, pick a song you’ve likely never heard, and have to drum along live in front of eight other drummers and a livestream of the global drumming community. No rehearsals. No do-overs. Just you, the music, and the sound of your confidence evaporating in real-time.

It’s not about playing well – it’s about daring to suck.

Founder takeaway: If you can’t name the last time you were visibly incompetent at something that mattered to you, you’re stagnating. Adapt and grow, or die like the dinosaurs.

Lesson 2: Tiny Wins Deserve Applause

You watch Mike demonstrate a groove or fill – fluid, effortless, almost meditative – and think, “Okay, I’ve got this.” Then you sit down to play it and your limbs betray you, your timing collapses, and for a second you forget how to breathe.

When someone finally nails it, the room erupts. Not because it was perfect. But because it was progress.

Most companies obsess over moonshots and ignore the micro-victories that actually build momentum. At camp, the culture flips that completely. Every inch forward gets noticed. Every attempt earns respect.

Founder takeaway: Start treating 1% gains like they matter – because they do. Applaud your team’s smallest wins like they’re a Grammy nomination.

Lesson 3: You Need Environments That Push (and Protect) You

Drum camp works because it’s structured, safe, and unforgiving at the same time. There’s no judgment, but Mike doesn’t sugarcoat. It’s a place built for voluntary struggle with built-in support.

Most leaders either live in environments that are too soft (nobody challenges them) or too sharp (political, performative, and unsafe). Neither encourages real growth.

Founder takeaway: Design your environment with intent. Create friction, but pair it with applied and psychological safety.

Lesson 4: Camaraderie Accelerates Growth

The fastest accelerators at camp aren’t necessarily the most talented. They’re the ones most open to peer support, to feedback, to pushing each other with zero ego.

I’ve seen the same in boardrooms and startups. When the right group dynamics are in place, people move faster because they’re not afraid to fail in front of each other.

Founder takeaway: If your team isn’t hyping each other’s growth, your culture’s broken.

Final Thought: Growth Is a Skill, Not a Stage

I’m not going to become a professional drummer. That’s not the point. I go to drum camp to remember how to learn (and have a boatload of fun with really cool people). To practice being bad at something. To put myself back in the mindset of “I don’t know how – yet.”

It’s easy to coast once you’ve had a few wins. Easy to tell yourself that challenge is for the young and hungry. But mastery is a lifelong practice. The moment you think you’re done, you’re already decaying.

Suck. Struggle. Repeat.
That’s where the real growth lives. And I’m here for it.

? What This Means For You

You don’t have to be a drummer to make sense of this:

• Identify one thing that makes you feel like a beginner – and run toward it.
• Build feedback-rich environments where failure is normalized, not punished.
• Ditch the solo grind. Surround yourself with peers who cheer your effort, not just your outcomes.
• If you’re too comfortable, you’re probably falling behind.

? What This Has to Do With CEO Coaching

The same mindset I bring to drum camp is what I bring to my coaching clients:
Blunt honesty, relentless feedback, and a no-bullshit environment built for growth.

I don’t coddle founders, I challenge them. I help them design better environments, make sharper decisions, and show up like leaders who are still learning – because the best ones always are.

Whether you’re scaling your company, preparing for exit, or rebuilding after burnout – what you really need is a space that stretches you.

I’ve built that. You can join it – if you’re ready.

→ Schedule an intro call

Image © 2025 Mike Johnston

The post Suck. Struggle. Repeat: What Drum Camp Taught Me About Growth as a Former CEO appeared first on Thomas Michael - Founder Coach & Strategic Advisor.

As company leaders we make tough decisions every day. Maintaining a healthy work-life balance requires tough decisions too.

In fact, that’s the first step to a better work-life balance, deciding to make a change.

Decision.
Are you committed to finding a better balance to benefit you, your family, and yes, your company? Then it’s time to commit and make some choices. I schedule my downtime just as I schedule my workday. I have a set time that I leave the office, and I do my best to stick with it. I’ve made a conscious decision to limit my weekly hours spent working and then make tough choices to make sure it happens. And when I’m home, I set work aside and focus on spending time with my family or relaxing. It can be as simple as putting down the cell phone and closing the computer. Leaving work, but staying attached to it and distracted by it is not truly leaving work.

Delegation.
But how can you go home with so much left to do? The key is to delegate responsibilities, not tasks. Reducing your operational involvement is the best way to cut back your working hours without negatively affecting the productivity and success of your company. When you’re not there, who is in charge? Who do you trust to make the decisions that keep your company running? Every CEO needs someone they can trust who knows the business as well as they do. I made a conscious decision to trust my team, and the best way to learn that this works is to give it a try. Sure, it took some getting used to, but once I saw that the world didn’t fall apart when I let other people share the load, it became much easier to leave my work at the office and truly enjoy my time at home.

Reduce your operational involvement by delegating responsibilities, not tasks.

Discipline.
If you cannot take a vacation from your business, you don’t have a business – you have a job. If my business were in a position where it couldn’t run without me, then I would make changes until it could. I choose to take a vacation several times every year and I stick to that plan. Remember the key to maintaining a work-life balance is applying the same discipline in your life as you do in your work. If you say you’re going to go home at 6 p.m., do it. And if you say you’re going to take a vacation, take it. Having the discipline to say ‘No’ to the office and trust that it can run without you is the only way to achieve the work-life balance we all strive towards.

If you can’t leave your business, you don’t have a business – you have a job.

Lastly, I always remind myself that better work-life balance is not only better for me and my family, it’s better for my company too. It’s possible to lead a balanced life even if you’re running a company, just remember the three Ds: Decision, Delegation, & Discipline.

What about you? Have you found any great ways to cut back your hours and get more out of life? Any success stories about how more time away from the office actually improved your business? Please leave them in the comments below.

And, as always, thank you for sharing this post!

Thomas Michael

Thomas Michael is the CEO of the Michael Management Corporation, the leading provider of award-winning online SAP training. He enjoys living in Manhattan and just booked a trip to see the Oktoberfest in Germany this year.

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