Twenty years ago I started something from scratch. Now I am doing it again. And honestly, I love it. The freedom to choose your own direction, to pivot when something feels right, to build something that did not exist before: that is exactly why I became an entrepreneur in the first place.

But there is something I have noticed over the past few months that I was not expecting. Something I feel the need to talk about, not out of frustration, but out of genuine curiosity.

When you are building something new, you reach out to people. That is part of the job. I write personal e-mails, not mass blasts, not copy-paste templates, but actual messages tailored to the person or company I am contacting. I do the research. I think about why it might be relevant for them specifically. I take the time.

About 90 per cent of those messages disappear into silence. No reply. No acknowledgement. Nothing.

Now, I understand. Everyone is busy. Not every offer is relevant. Not every moment is the right one. I have absolutely no issue with that; it is just reality.

But a simple reply? Two sentences: “This is not something we need right now” or “Interesting, but not the right fit for us.” That is thirty seconds of someone’s time. That is all. Not a meeting. Not a commitment. Just a human response.

And here is the thing: I would actually learn more from a blunt "this is complete nonsense" or "way too expensive" or "far too complicated" than from silence. Harsh feedback is useful. It tells me something. It helps me sharpen my message, adjust my offer, understand where I am missing the mark. Silence tells me nothing. I cannot work with nothing.

I called it ghosting in the title, but that is not quite right. Ghosting is when someone disappears after there was already a connection. What I am describing is closer to being left on read before the conversation even started. Which, if you think about it, is somehow worse.

I receive outreach messages too, from freelancers, from founders, from people promoting their services. I reply to all of them. Always. Either to say it is not relevant, or to ask a follow-up question if I am genuinely curious. Two sentences. Door closed or left open, but either way: a real answer. Because there is a person on the other side of that message.

Here is what surprised me most: this is not just a corporate thing.

I reach out to people across the board, from large organisations to independent professionals. And I see the same pattern everywhere. People who run their own business, who built something from nothing, who know exactly what it feels like to put yourself out there: they do it too.

Which makes me wonder: did we forget what it felt like to start from a blank page? That first client you had to convince. The first time someone said yes after ten said nothing. The energy it takes just to keep going when the response rate is low.

I am not pointing fingers. I do not think it comes from a bad place; most of the time it is simply noise management, overloaded inboxes, good intentions that get pushed aside. I understand that.

But I do think we could all be a little more deliberate about closing the loop.

Starting something new never goes at the pace you want. That is part of the deal, and I have made peace with it. The reason I do this, the reason I did it twenty years ago and the reason I am doing it again now, is because of the freedom it gives me. To work on things I find genuinely interesting. To choose who I work with. To keep moving in directions that feel right.

That is a privilege. And I think that privilege comes with a small responsibility: to remember that the person sending you a message is navigating the same world you once navigated, or still are. They took a risk reaching out.
A short reply is a way of saying: I respect you.
That is not too much to ask.

I know this is part of the game and i’ll play along, but some game rules can be challenged every once and while, no!? 😉 It is just an observation.
And no, this is not going to stop me from conquering the world again. 🙃