Startups don’t die because they run out of money. They die because they build something nobody wants.
After years of running my own startups and mentoring others—across industries, stages, and continents—I’ve seen one failure again and again: building a product in a vacuum.
Too often, the product vision is crafted behind closed doors by well-meaning founders with deep industry experience. And it’s exactly that confidence that becomes the problem. The founder thinks they know what their customer wants. After all, they’ve worked in the industry for 10, 15, 20 years. I know—I’ve made this rather expensive mistake myself, and it was a lesson I won’t forget. Founders like us have seen what’s broken, lived the pain, and so we build a product to solve what we assume our customers need.
But here’s the thing: experience is not a substitute for customer conversation. And assumption is not validation.
I’ve seen this play out time and again—especially in enterprise B2B. A founder gets one big customer over the line and assumes others will follow. But no two enterprise clients are ever truly the same. Each has different processes, politics, decision-makers, constraints, and incentives. What feels like a “universal solution” is often a bespoke fit for just one client—and a deal-breaker for the rest.
Even a little friction can be enough to lose the deal.
Been There, Done That (And Paid the Price)
Earlier in my career, I spent five years in the Philippines, serving as Southeast Asia Regional Director for a top-five global engineering consultancy. It’s also where I launched my first two startups. My love for the country runs deep. So when I had an idea I believed could make a meaningful impact on the lives of artisanal fisherfolk—helping them access fair credit—I went all in.
The idea was to use fish catch landing data to assess creditworthiness. Banks could use this data to offer fair financing, reducing the fisherfolk’s reliance on local middlemen who often charged exploitative rates. For many of these communities, loans were secured against homes, boats, or land. And with fishing being so seasonal—and the Philippines so prone to natural disasters—it was a fragile system.
Despite the hardship, I’ve always said the Philippines is the happiest country I’ve lived in. (Not Finland, despite its eight-year reign on the global happiness index—and yes, I lived there too, for 4.5 years.) But I digress.
The rich in the Philippines often get richer. The poor often stay poor. I wanted to help break that cycle.
I pitched the concept to WWF and Union Bank of the Philippines: a blockchain-enabled app that would log fish catch data, provide a credit score, and facilitate microloans. WWF would manage field engagement, and the bank would lend against the data. Both said yes. And I thought: if the biggest NGO and a major bank are backing this, the rest will fall into place. Build it, and they will come.
But that’s not how it went.
We’d only had a single meeting with the fisherfolk before jumping into MVP development. Time and money were tight. We believed our understanding of the problem was enough—and with two heavyweight partners on board, we didn’t want to lose momentum.
When the app launched, everything began to unravel.
IT literacy among the fisherfolk was far lower than we’d expected. Many didn’t own smartphones. Some didn’t even own mobile phones at all. Those who did had non-Android models, which meant WWF had to supply devices. And because most of the fisherfolk couldn’t operate the app confidently, it fell to their children or spouses to enter the data.
It became clear very quickly: the product wasn’t going to scale. It wasn’t sustainable. We had designed something that worked for the bank, but not with the fisherfolk. We had built for only half the customer base.
We didn’t have product-market fit.
I was devastated. I had failed to deliver on the vision. But more importantly, I had failed to serve the very people I set out to help. That project still sits heavily with me. It changed the way I build, the way I lead Silta, and the way I coach founders today. When I talk about product-market fit, I don’t just mention it—I impress it. Because I’ve lived the consequences of getting it wrong.
Start With the Problem, Not the Product
If I could offer just one golden rule to early-stage founders, it’s this: do not build anything until you’ve had a dozen—preferably more—meaningful conversations with the people you hope will use it.
I’ve seen founders get this wrong even after raising seed capital. They sit in a room with their team, they whiteboard a vision, they map a user journey—but they never speak to an actual user until it’s too late.
Talk to your customer before you design for them.
Not just to validate your idea, but to understand how they think, what frustrates them, how they work. Invite them into the design process. Sketch with them. Test early wireframes with them. Co-create the journey. When users help shape your MVP, they’re far more likely to use it, love it—and tell others.
Your MVP Isn’t the End—It’s the Beginning
I often remind the founders I coach: your MVP is not a product. It’s a question.
The question is: did we get close enough?
Once your MVP is in the wild, the real work starts. You should be constantly pulling insights from your early users. What works? What’s clunky? What’s being ignored entirely?
This isn’t about adding shiny features. It’s about deeply understanding how your product fits into your users’ lives—and where it doesn’t. Every insight you get helps you sharpen the value proposition, improve stickiness, and grow more confidently.
Price Based on the Problem You Solve
Here’s a tip I’ve seen separate good founders from great ones: when you understand a customer’s problem, always ask how much it’s costing them.
If a broken process is costing them $200,000 per year, and your product saves even half of that, a $25,000 price point becomes obvious. Pricing based on value delivered—not cost incurred or competitor benchmarks—is how premium SaaS and service businesses thrive.
Get confident talking about money early. It’s not rude—it’s smart business.
Don’t Just Know Better—Remember to Act on It
Here’s the truth: most founders do know they should speak to users. Most know they should validate before building. Most understand the value of iteration and pricing strategy.
But in the chaos of building a startup, that wisdom often gets pushed aside.
You’re fundraising. Hiring. Pitching. Fixing bugs. Trying to survive.
That’s why coaches and mentors matter. Not because you don’t know what to do—but because you need someone to help you remember and act on it consistently.
I’ve been that founder who forgot the basics. I’ve seen others do the same. The ones who bounce back quickly are the ones who stay coachable.
Final Thoughts
Product-market fit isn’t something you stumble into. It’s something you earn. Through humility, curiosity, and deep respect for the customer.
So whether you’re designing for a global enterprise or a rural fishing village, pause. Ask the questions. Listen—really listen. And build with your users, not just for them.
If you’re building something meaningful and want to avoid the costly mistakes I’ve lived through, drop me a line. I’ve helped founders from idea to exit, and I’d be happy to help you too.
About the Author
Ben Sheppard is a seasoned founder and global business coach with over two decades of experience building startups and leading strategy for multinationals across Europe and Southeast Asia. He has held regional leadership roles in top-tier engineering firms, launched technology ventures in emerging markets, and now supports founders as they build product, land customers, and scale. He is known for blending empathy with strategic clarity, helping founders go from vision to traction with confidence.