April 10, 2025
“A founder perspective worth embracing.”
This piece is a reaction to a recent Fortune article quoting LinkedIn co-founder Reid Hoffman. In it, he said: “If I ever hear a founder talking about, ‘this is how I have a balanced life,’ they’re not committed to winning.” I’ll speak plainly: work-life balance isn’t a red flag but legacy panic is and it’s getting pathetic.
What’s even more pathetic is how he misappropriates what could have been a transformative moment with his dying mother. Instead he flattens her humanity into a cautionary tale for anyone not willing to suffer the same way she did. Instead, let’s unpack a founder perspective worth embracing.
Most of my readers already know I’m not a life coach. And I certainly don’t coach people to find balance. Nothing inherently wrong with that. In fact, if that’s the goal, I admire your clarity.
But for most of us with fire in our bellies, work-life balance is a strategy, not the destination. It’s a lever we pull in service of something more meaningful and self-defined.
I coach leaders to win, but not at someone else’s game. And definitely not at Reid’s game. Given Reid’s success, I’d bet he didn’t win at someone else’s game either. He played one designed to ensure he’d win, and most others wouldn’t.
So yes, I coach leaders to win at their own game because it’s the only game that 99% of us can win. In this game, the chips aren’t stacked against us. We move the needle, hit our financial goals, and still make time for what truly matters. In this context, work-life balance becomes a founder perspective worth embracing. Not as retreat, but as strategic alignment.
Believe me when I say this mindset isn’t woo woo. It’s taking control of your business, rather than bending the knee and pulling the rug over yourself so you don’t have to face the fact that you’ve inherited a ticket to a show that was never open to the public. And somehow, we keep getting pulled back into the establishment’s outdated definition of success.
Even the self-optimizers who think they’re bucking the trend are just regurgitating an old playbook. One that tells us that if we don’t sacrifice everything for our careers, we don’t deserve success. I don’t think this is just misguided. It’s manipulative. And it’s time we called it what it is.
This mindset isn’t a hot take. It’s a Trojan horse. One that’s been used by corporations, VCs, and startup evangelists to justify burnout, self-abandonment, and the rejection of work-life balance as anything but weakness.
Hoffman positions this perspective by recounting how his mother raised him as a single parent, suggesting she had a “fulfilled life” in part because of what she sacrificed for him. And look, I get the instinct to honor a parent’s effort. My mom doesn’t sound so different. She too made sure the world, and I, knew her kids were her priority. I believe her. I see the honor in that. But I also know she had that belief ingrained in her, just as her mother did, and her mother before that.
Eventually, it becomes hard to tell where your inherited obligations end and your chosen priorities begin.
That’s what saddens me most. Hoffman zeroed in on his mother saying, “I had a fulfilling life,” but glossed over her also saying, “I had an unhappy life.” Isn’t that tragic? A life of giving everything away in the name of purpose only to look back and realize you never got to define it for yourself.
And where does this cycle end? Parents often say two contradictory things in the same breath: “I want my kids to have it better than I did,” and, “My kids should want their kids to have it better than them.” But we now know happiness is generational. If you’re happy, your kids are more likely to be happy. If you’re miserable, they will be too.
So when do we stop and say, “I’m going to be happy so they have permission to be too?” When do we break the cycle?
Hoffman’s anecdote about his mom could’ve gone somewhere deeply profound. He could’ve said, “She gave so much. And I now realize I never saw the full human in her.” He could’ve asked what kind of system requires mothers to sacrifice themselves so that their children can feel worthy of success.
Instead, he doubled down on the myth that fulfillment equals sacrifice. That if you’re not going all in, you’re not in at all. What a devastating takeaway.
This isn’t just a missed opportunity to challenge outdated leadership models. It’s a missed opportunity to tell the truth about success, that it’s not more virtuous when it comes with collateral damage.
What we’re seeing now across leadership, politics, and culture is a clear pattern. When the old guard feels threatened, they don’t self-reflect. They discredit and shame. They attack the values that threaten their legacy.
And that’s exactly what this is: legacy panic. It’s the last gasp of an era that can’t admit the game is changing. A time when measuring commitment by hours worked was the only metric available. But it’s not anymore.
Hoffman’s quote doesn’t just reek of hustle nostalgia. It reveals a deep fear. Fear that if people stop believing that work must consume their lives, the entire mythos of success might unravel.
And let’s talk about this new flavor of hustle: self-optimization. There’s nothing inherently wrong with wanting to be your best self. But when self-awareness comes at the cost of spatial awareness, when your pursuit of growth disconnects you from others, it’s no longer evolution.
It’s self-absorption disguised as ambition.
This morning, I was at my butcher shop in Hoi An, waiting for a chicken to be broken down. He offered me a warm beer and started telling me stories about his work, his family, his city. It was 9:45 AM. And yes, I drank the beer.
As I sat there, I realized: this man has rhythm. Presence. A clear sense of what matters. And it struck me how absurd it would be to suggest he’s not committed to anything because he’s not chasing an exit strategy.
I’ve worked hard my whole life. I still do. But now, my effort is in service of something different. Not to win at all costs, or to prove my worth, but to support a life I actually want. And to still find fulfillment in the value I bring to others. I haven’t left hard work behind. I’ve just stopped letting it own me.
And maybe that’s the founder perspective we need more of, one that values sustainability as much as scale.
Making work your purpose isn’t always the barrier to achieving your wildest dreams. Many wildly successful people eventually downgrade work from being their purpose to simply being a priority.
When we were children, we wanted to be astronauts, not entrepreneurs. We wanted to explore, not lead a company through a rebrand, a merger, and a Monday morning all-hands.
And here’s the thing about priorities: they shift over time based on what life reveals is most important to us. Some of the world’s top athletes have said their real breakthrough didn’t come from grinding harder.
It came from letting go. From stopping the obsession, and starting to enjoy the work again. That’s when their talent unlocked. That’s when they found flow.
Winning doesn’t require worship. It requires alignment.
This narrative isn’t just about Reid. It’s a window into the founder perspective that has gone unchecked for too long. It’s about the system he represents. The same one that rewards overwork and punishes rest. That frames balance as a luxury rather than a birthright. That equates exhaustion with excellence.
We’ve built companies that depend on people giving their lives to the machine, and then we act surprised when they burn out or opt out. And then, the final insult? We shame them for it.
Even more ridiculous is telling people to sacrifice everything to win, without offering the map to get there. It’s just another form of gatekeeping. It’s manipulative and elitist, like watching ants march to their death while the queen sits comfortably, pretending the climb is noble.
And I don’t buy it anymore. Neither should you.
This isn’t just about founder culture. It’s about institutional relevance.
Remember when congregations began realizing that many young people didn’t identify as religious or even spiritual—but still felt deeply connected to their faith group? The initial reaction was panic: “If you don’t believe in God, you’re not really Christian; or Jewish; or Muslim.”
And what happened? Attendance dropped. Membership plummeted. Eventually, leaders realized they had to meet people where they were or lose them on their watch. That meant redefining what connection looked like, beyond tradition.
LinkedIn, listen up: you’re not entitled to your cultural relevance. If you can’t evolve, we’ll leave you for something better. This hustle-worship? It’s not the vibe anymore.
The leaders who will thrive in this next era aren’t the ones who shame people into overwork. They’re the ones who understand that sustainable performance, emotional regulation, and clarity of mind require space.
They know that balance isn’t a red flag. It’s the foundation of resilience. And they lead in a way that honors that, for themselves and the people who follow them. Mark my words: this administration and its anti-progress platform will pass, and businesses will be bullied in the direction of progress once again.
The question is will you be remembered at this time as clinging to the myth of sacrifice as identity, or will you evolve? Will you keep contorting yourself to meet outdated expectations, or will you finally trust your own compass and give yourself permission to lead on your own terms?
Pardon the plug: If you’re tired of being told that the only path to purpose is through exhaustion, you’re not alone. We build coaching systems for people who want to win on their own terms.
Another plug: If you’ve built a great company but lost your sense of self along the way, we’re here to help you reconnect with your values, your vision, and a founder perspective that actually feels like yours.
Last plug, I promise: The next generation of leadership doesn’t sound like Reid. It sounds like someone who finally realized success doesn’t have to cost you your soul.
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