My First Drama-Free Finish
Startup #6 brought me something I never had before or even thought possible - start, run, and end sans the usual dramas.
Peter Kay, your feral entrepreneur here and I’m sitting in my office in Hawaii, 2017, staring at a computer screen, feeling pretty damn good. Avagence, my sixth startup, is humming along like a well-tuned engine. We’ve got customers—medium-sized retail jewelers—using our software across the country. Our tech is slick, a unique integration with Salesforce that lets data flow both ways between their point-of-sale systems and our platform. Add a customer in Salesforce? It pops up in the point-of-sale system. Update something at the register? It syncs back. Nobody else in retail jewelry has this, and it’s a game-changer. We’re cash-flow positive, pulling in solid money for everyone involved. I’m thinking, “Hell yeah, we’re carving out a beachhead here.” Just like I did back in the CyberCom days, launching Hawaii’s first commercial website, we’re building something real. But there’s a shadow lurking, and I can feel it.
Cracks Start Showing
See, Avagence isn’t perfect. I’m running it with two co-founders, Miles and Tommy, both sharp guys, older like me, with their own businesses. Miles, a CyberCom client, runs Rings of Aloha, a niche jewelry retailer in Honolulu. He’s a pro, knows his stuff inside out. Tommy’s a marketing wizard with a voice made for radio—and a seriously great showman. He’s opened doors for us nationwide, leaning on his rolodex of jewelry industry contacts. But here’s the rub: Avagence is the lowest priority for all three of us. My CyberCom, Miles’s Rings of Aloha, Tommy’s sales consulting gig—they come first. We’re all doing the bare minimum to keep Avagence afloat, and I’m starting to see the writing on the wall. A tech startup can’t thrive like this, not in a cutthroat market. I’m already thinking about how to wind this down, but we’re making money, so nobody’s complaining. It’s not like the wild, fear-slaying days of starting revolutions. For now, it’s steady, and steady feels okay.
Barry Drops a Bomb
Then comes the call. Barry, CEO of ASCII Corp, our key partner, wants to talk. ASCII’s point-of-sale and ERP system dominates the mid-sized jewelry market, and our strategic alliance with them is the backbone of Avagence. Their tech’s old-school, our Salesforce integration modernizes their customer offering, and we have a revenue sharing deal in place. Barry’s a no-nonsense East Coast guy with a thick Boston accent, sharp as a tack, always clear about where he stands. Tommy’s in Florida, Miles and I are in Hawaii—team’s scattered, so we hop on an old-school conference call. No video, just phones, like it’s 1995. I’m curious but not worried. Business is good, Barry’s making money, we’re all getting along. So what’s the call about? Barry gets straight to it: “Guys, I got news. ASCII’s been acquired.” We’re stoked for him, piling on the congrats. “Right on, dude! Nice going!” I’m genuinely happy. Barry and his crew are getting up there, long in the tooth not unlike me. It’s a perfect exit for them, a ticket to a sweet retirement.
The Kiss of Death For Us
But then the hammer drops. Barry’s voice stays steady as he delivers the bad news: the acquiring company has their own CRM integrated with their point-of-sale system. They don’t need our Salesforce solution. Boom. That’s it. The kiss of death for Avagence. Not today, not tomorrow, but soon. We hitched our wagon to ASCII, and now that wagon’s rolling away without us. Barry’s blunt, as always: “I can’t make guarantees. They know about you. If they want something, they’ll call.” Spoiler: they never call. Not even an “hasta la vista, baby.” I’m sitting there, phone to my ear, processing. Miles and Tommy are quiet. We all know what this means. After the call, the three of us huddle up for a quick chat. No sugarcoating, no denial. This is the end. Time to wrap it up.
The First Exit That Actually Feels Good
Here’s the thing: I’m not mad. I’m relieved. This is startup number six for me, and I’ve been through the wringer—XenTec’s leadership battles, CyberCom’s pivot and exit , Titan Key’s fold, you name it. Winding down companies? I’m a pro. But this? This is child’s play. A clean, external reason to shut it down, no drama, no conflict. I don’t have to sit Miles and Tommy down and say, “Guys, this ain’t working.” They see it too. We’re all seasoned enough to know Avagence has no long-term future. It’s like the universe handed us an easy out. Thank you, Lord, for making this simple. I’m almost laughing, thinking, “No crazy fights, no sleepless nights. Just an orderly wind-down.” Compared to the shutdown beast I wrestled in CyberCom’s shutdown, this feels like a vacation.
Feels Even Better When Your Partners Agree
Miles and Tommy are on the same page, and that’s a gift. Miles, with his steady hand from running Rings of Aloha, doesn’t push back. Tommy, with his marketing flair and industry connections, doesn’t try to spin some wild plan to save it. They’re both busy with their own gigs, and I’m guessing they’re as relieved as I am. We don’t say it out loud, but I feel it. No resistance, no egos. Just a quiet agreement: “Let’s wind this baby down.” It’s the first time I’ve seen a startup begin, run, and end with zero drama. We started clean, ran it profitably, made money, and now we’re closing it like pros. Miles keeps it cool, Tommy’s radio voice stays calm, and I’m just nodding along, grateful for partners who get it.
Smooth Wind Downs Made Easy
The wind-down is as smooth as it gets. We handle the customers with care, explaining the situation and CyberCom will keep the lights on for them as long as they need in order to transition easily. They get it—no one’s pissed. In fact, one of them is still a customer of mine to this day in 2025. We built something cool, something that didn’t exist before, just like I did with Titan Key’s tech back in the day. Our bi-directional Salesforce integration was a first, and I’m damn proud of that. We started from scratch, made money, and now we’re bowing out gracefully. No enemies, no lawsuits, no chaos. It’s the feral entrepreneur’s dream: a tech startup that runs its course and sunsets without a fight. I’m 54, on the glide path to retirement, and Avagence feels like a turning point. It’s the first time I’ve run a business that felt… easy. Hard work, sure, but easy. No dragons to slay, just a clean arc from start to finish.
Getting Ready to Ride Into The Sunset
Looking back, Avagence was a milestone. It showed me I could build something, make it profitable, and let it go without losing my cool. It’s a far cry from the scrappy, all-in hustle of my younger days, like when I learned to sell or launched CyberCom. At 54, I’m not chasing rainbows anymore. I’m winding down, setting the stage for a beautiful sunset. Avagence wasn’t just a business; it was proof I’d grown as a feral entrepreneur. I could start, run, and end a company with my head high, my partners happy, soul intact, and blood pressure normal. That’s the story of how we closed startup number six. No drama, just aloha.