Breaking the Cognitive Set: Why Pattern Disruption Restores Attention

Every brand starts by earning attention. The hard part is keeping it.

When a new campaign launches, everyone notices. It feels fresh, different, even exciting. Then something strange happens. A few months later, people stop reacting. The same visuals, the same tone, the same message that once felt alive now pass unnoticed. Nothing seems wrong with the work — but somehow, no one cares.

That’s what psychologists call cognitive set. It’s the brain’s way of getting efficient. Once it recognizes a pattern, it stops paying attention to it. The first time you hear a song, you feel every note. By the fifth time, you hum along without listening. The same thing happens with brands. Once the brain predicts what you’re going to say or show, it tunes you out.

This is the moment where most marketing dies quietly.

Priming, as we discussed earlier, is what helps people feel comfortable and emotionally ready to connect with your brand. It creates familiarity, safety, and recognition. But once people become too familiar, you enter dangerous territory — predictability. And predictability is the enemy of attention.

That’s where pattern disruption comes in.

Pattern disruption is the art of breaking expectation just enough to wake people up again. It’s a small but deliberate break in rhythm — not to shock, but to refresh perception. When something interrupts our mental autopilot, the brain releases a quick burst of dopamine, the chemical of attention and curiosity. Suddenly, the mind says, “Wait, that’s new. Look again.”

You see this in storytelling, design, even human behavior. A pause in a speech that lands unexpectedly can be more powerful than the next line. A silence in a song can make the return of sound feel larger than life. In marketing, a surprising shift in tone, image, or format can make an old brand feel new again without changing what it stands for.

One of the best articulations of this philosophy comes from TBWA, the global agency that built its entire creative framework around a single word: Disruption®.

TBWA’s idea of disruption isn’t chaos. It’s about challenging the conventions that keep categories predictable and consumers asleep. Every industry, every audience, every brand operates within a set of rules — the “cognitive set” of that market. TBWA’s Disruption method works by identifying those rules and then intentionally breaking one, just enough to make people see things differently.

It’s not rebellion for the sake of it. It’s controlled defiance with a purpose.

That’s why their work for brands like Apple, Nissan, and Adidas felt so alive — not because the ads were loud, but because they broke expectation in meaningful ways. Apple’s “Think Different” didn’t introduce new technology; it reframed how people saw it. It broke the pattern of tech advertising, which was obsessed with features, and replaced it with emotion and philosophy. Suddenly, technology wasn’t about machines; it was about people who dared.

That’s pattern disruption at its highest level — not a new message, but a new lens.

When brands repeat themselves too long, they become like wallpaper. People stop seeing them, even when they’re right in front of their eyes. A billboard, a jingle, or a slogan that once sparked recognition becomes background noise. It’s not rejection; it’s indifference.

The irony is that this happens most often to successful brands. The more consistent they become, the more invisible they get. Familiarity breeds comfort, but comfort breeds blindness.

The solution isn’t to throw away consistency — it’s to renew it. Disruption is not about abandoning your brand; it’s about reintroducing it through surprise.

The brain needs small shocks of newness to stay engaged. A subtle visual shift, a new tone of voice, a campaign that breaks your usual rhythm — these moments remind people that you’re still alive, still thinking, still relevant.

Think of Coca-Cola’s “Share a Coke” campaign. For decades, Coca-Cola had been about happiness and togetherness — a message so familiar that people could recite it in their sleep. But when they printed people’s names on bottles, they didn’t change the message; they changed the entry point. Suddenly, the familiar red bottle became personal. The message was the same — connection — but the pattern was new. That’s disruption with purpose.

The same applies to smaller brands. A local café that always uses warm lighting might one day switch to candlelight evenings. A bank known for its steady tone might release a campaign about taking risks. A brand known for noise might suddenly go quiet — imagine an MTN billboard that’s completely yellow, no words, no logo, just the color. People would stop and stare. That’s what disruption does.

It’s important, though, to understand that disruption without clarity is just confusion. The best disruptions feel surprising but inevitable. They make you say, “I didn’t expect that,” and immediately after, “but it makes sense.”

TBWA calls this the sweet spot between convention and vision. You keep enough of what people recognize so they know it’s you, but you add enough newness to make them look again.

In a sense, it’s the same balance every artist, entrepreneur, and leader must find. You must be familiar enough to be trusted, and unpredictable enough to stay interesting. That’s what keeps both people and brands alive — the rhythm of comfort and surprise.

So, when your marketing starts feeling invisible, it might not be because it’s bad. It might just be because it’s too good at being expected. The job then isn’t to start over. It’s to disrupt yourself — on purpose, with intent, guided by meaning.

Because in a world where attention is the most valuable currency, familiarity alone won’t make people see you. Surprise will.

Priming the Subconscious: The Mood Before the Brand Message

In marketing, what happens before someone sees your message is often more important than the message itself. I’ve been thinking a lot about this lately, about how most buying decisions are shaped long before logic has a chance to participate.

Think about how you react when you walk into a store. Sometimes you immediately feel comfortable even if you can’t explain why. You hear a familiar tune, you catch a pleasant scent, and somehow, you already trust the place before you’ve even looked around. Or you see a video online, and within a few seconds you find yourself smiling or feeling connected before you even realize what’s being sold. That’s not coincidence. That’s priming.

Priming is the process where your surroundings quietly prepare your brain to think, feel, and behave in a particular way before you consciously decide to. It’s one of those invisible forces that shape human behavior more than we care to admit.

Psychologists have been studying this for decades. What they’ve discovered is that our brains don’t wait for us to think before they act. They are constantly scanning for signals—sound, color, temperature, tone, rhythm—and forming associations that lead us toward certain emotions. You think you’re making a decision, but your brain has already tilted you in a direction before you even start weighing options.

This is where sonic marketing comes in. In retail environments, for instance, background music is one of the most powerful priming tools. Studies have shown that when stores play slow, soft music, customers slow down too. They take their time, they browse longer, and they often end up spending more. The same product, the same shelf, and the same customer, but a different soundtrack completely changes the experience. That’s how subtle and powerful priming can be.

You’ll notice the same thing in restaurants. Dim lighting, warm tones, and mellow music immediately make people feel more relaxed, even before the waiter arrives. You might leave thinking the food tasted amazing, when in truth, it was the environment that did most of the work.

The same principle shows up in one of my favorite examples of psychological priming outside marketing—the movie Focus starring Will Smith. In one scene, he plays a skilled con artist who primes a wealthy gambler throughout the day using numbers, words, and symbols that seem random. Later that night, when the gambler is asked to pick a number during a high-stakes bet, he confidently chooses the exact number Smith had planted in his mind all along. What looks like luck is actually preparation. The man’s subconscious had been quietly guided for hours without realizing it. That’s what priming does. It doesn’t push. It prepares.

When you understand this, you start to see marketing differently. Every color, sound, and texture becomes part of the brand’s language. The message doesn’t start when the ad begins—it starts the moment the first cue is felt.

That’s also why good advertising follows a very deliberate structure. Think of the most engaging TV commercials you’ve ever seen. They rarely begin with the logo or even the product. Instead, they start with a relatable story—an everyday moment, a feeling, or a situation that draws you in. There’s no branding yet, no hint of who’s behind the story. You’re simply watching, getting invested, softening up emotionally. Then, slowly, the cues begin to appear. A color on the wall that feels familiar, a line of dialogue that sounds like the brand’s voice, a setting that subtly carries the brand’s identity. Only near the end does the logo appear, accompanied by a short sound or melody—what advertising professionals call an audio mnemonic or sonic logo—that seals the emotional experience.

This sequence isn’t random. It’s the psychology of timing. The ad first primes you emotionally, then connects that emotion to the brand. By the time the logo appears, your mind is already open to it. You’re not being sold to; you’re completing a story you’ve already joined.

Unfortunately, many local advertisers miss this completely. They want their logos on screen from the first second. They insist on their brand colors in every frame. They want every line of dialogue to mention their product. In doing so, they break every law of priming. When the brain detects branding too early, it switches from feeling to evaluating. Instead of relaxing into the story, the audience starts resisting. The guard goes up. The experience shifts from connection to defense. The result is an ad that’s loud but forgettable.

The brands that get it right understand that emotion leads and branding follows. They know that priming is about setting a stage, not shouting a name.

You can see this in smaller, everyday examples too. A coffee shop that uses warm lighting, wooden textures, and soft acoustic music is priming people for calm and connection. A youth clothing store with amapiano beats, graffiti-style visuals, and energetic movement primes people for self-expression. A bank that uses clear, steady tones, clean design, and predictable patterns primes for trust. Each brand is telling a story before a single word is spoken.

Priming only fails when what people experience doesn’t match what they were led to expect. A spa that promises peace but feels chaotic destroys trust before a therapist even greets you. A restaurant that advertises luxury but uses plastic chairs creates friction between what customers were primed to believe and what they actually find. People can’t always explain why they feel disappointed, but their subconscious knows something doesn’t line up.

That’s why priming isn’t manipulation—it’s alignment. It’s making sure the experience, the environment, and the message all say the same thing. When those elements agree, trust forms almost instantly. The customer feels right before they can explain why.

Every brand has what I call a subconscious contract with its audience. People expect you to make them feel a certain way. They might not know how to describe it, but they know when it’s missing. That’s why the best marketing often feels effortless. It doesn’t fight for attention; it feels natural. It fits the mental script your audience already holds about what your brand should be.

Priming also affects long-term brand memory. If a customer’s first few experiences with your brand make them feel calm, respected, or inspired, that emotional memory becomes the lens through which they’ll interpret every future encounter. That’s why consistency matters. You’re not only shaping today’s mood—you’re building tomorrow’s memory.

So, when you think about your marketing, don’t start with what you want to say. Start with how you want people to feel before you say anything at all. Ask yourself whether your colors, sounds, and tone set that feeling even before the message begins. Because in the end, persuasion doesn’t start when your audience listens—it starts when their senses do.

Eventually, though, priming reaches its limit. When people have seen the same cues too often, their brains stop noticing. Familiarity turns into invisibility. That’s when brands lose attention, not because they’ve lost relevance, but because they’ve lost surprise.

And that’s where we’ll go next: how to break that pattern and use the element of surprise to wake your audience back up.

Next in the series: Breaking the Cognitive Set — Why Surprise Restores Attention.

Framing Reality: Why the Story Around the Brand Becomes the Brand Itself

Last time, I spoke about two people walking into the same restaurant — one feeling romance under candlelight, the other feeling grief. Same light, different meanings.
That story never leaves me, because it reminds me that perception isn’t passive. It’s creative. We don’t simply receive the world — we frame it.

Framing is how our minds make sense of things that don’t come with built-in meaning.
It’s why we can look at the same event, the same product, or even the same person, and walk away with completely different stories about what just happened.

If observation determines what becomes real, framing decides what that reality means.


Meaning Lives in the Frame, Not the Fact

The brain doesn’t store raw data; it stores interpretation.
Everything we see, hear, or read passes through filters of experience, emotion, and context before it becomes understanding.

Take something simple: a price tag.
“E99” might mean affordable to one person and cheap and unreliable to another.
Same number — different story.
It’s not the price that changes, it’s the frame that surrounds it.

The same happens in everyday life.
A parent who says, “You’re stubborn,” may mean determined.
A teacher who says, “You’re stubborn,” may mean difficult.
Framing transforms qualities into judgments.

In marketing, this is everything.
A product doesn’t live in its features; it lives in the meaning people attach to those features.
And meaning is always framed.


How the Frame Builds the Feeling

Psychologists like Daniel Kahneman and Amos Tversky proved this decades ago through what’s called the framing effect — our decisions change depending on how information is presented.

People were more likely to agree to a medical procedure when told it had a “90% survival rate” than when told it had a “10% death rate.”
Same data, different frame, different outcome.

Brands do the same thing every day.
A telecom saying “Stay connected to those who matter” isn’t selling data — it’s framing the product as love and togetherness.
A bank saying “Own your future” isn’t promoting savings — it’s framing finance as freedom.
And a fast-food chain saying “Made fresh every morning” isn’t selling buns — it’s framing familiarity as freshness.

We don’t respond to the thing itself.
We respond to the meaning the frame gives it.


Frames as the Invisible Storytelling Tool

Here’s what most marketers miss: framing doesn’t start in the ad; it starts in the world around the ad.
The cultural climate, social language, and emotional temperature of your audience are already shaping how your message will be read before you’ve even said a word.

Think of it like a picture in a gallery.
A gold frame makes the art feel valuable.
A cracked wooden frame makes it feel rustic.
Same image, completely different aura.

Now apply that to Eswatini.
A brand promoting “luxury” in Mbabane might frame it as quiet sophistication, while in Nhlangano that same message might read as out of touch.
The difference isn’t the product — it’s the context in which the frame hangs.

That’s why marketers must study culture as closely as they study their own product.
The frame isn’t decoration; it’s translation.


Revisiting the Candlelight

Let’s go back to that restaurant.
The candle didn’t change — the people did.
One’s life story framed the light as love.
The other’s story framed it as grief.
And both walked away convinced their perception was true.

Now imagine that candle is your brand.
You can’t decide how everyone will feel about it — but you can design the room around it.
You can choose the tone, the color, the story, the setting.
That’s what framing really is: building the environment in which perception takes place.


The Art of Conscious Framing

So how do we frame consciously? A few guiding ideas:

1. Name the feeling before the message.
Decide how you want people to feel before you decide what you want them to know.
If your campaign is about empowerment, your visuals, copy, and timing must all support that emotional frame.

2. Keep one truth per frame.
If you mix messages — humor and sadness, luxury and cheapness, corporate and friendly — the frame collapses.
Every great brand is clear about what its light should mean.

3. Align the internal and external frame.
How your staff experiences the brand is how your audience eventually will.
If the team feels under pressure, the tone of your brand will leak that stress.
Internal culture frames external perception.


The Frame Shapes the Choice

Remember the experiment where the act of watching changed how particles behaved?
Framing is how language and context change how people behave.
It’s what decides whether a consumer’s next step is interest or indifference, love or avoidance, curiosity or mistrust.

Think about your own experience:
You can watch two identical ads — same visuals, same voice — but if one says “Join us,” and the other says “Don’t miss out,” your brain interprets them differently.
One frame invites belonging; the other triggers fear of exclusion.
Frames are emotional lenses.

And the frame that fits your audience best is the one that feels like their truth.
Your message shouldn’t force its meaning — it should reveal what already exists in the observer’s mind.


Framing and the Limits of Control

You can’t control how everyone will perceive you, but you can influence where their perception starts.
You can plant the right cues, colors, and words that whisper the meaning you hope they’ll find.

A youthful brand can use motion, brightness, and rhythm to frame energy.
A heritage brand can use stillness, texture, and warmth to frame trust.
A financial brand can use clarity and rhythm to frame stability.

The key is not to paint a new reality, but to illuminate the version of reality that best reflects your truth.


The Quiet Power of Intention

In the end, everything we create — an advert, a post, a shop window, a social campaign — is a frame for perception.
And every consumer, in turn, is framing us through their own biology, culture, and emotion.

The magic of marketing lies in that meeting point — between what we intend and what they interpret.
That’s where meaning happens.

Because just like that candlelit room, the light stays the same.
But the story that surrounds it changes everything.


Looking Ahead: Priming the Subconscious

If framing gives meaning to what people see, then priming prepares the mind for what they’re about to feel.
It’s the quiet setup that happens before the message even arrives — the color, rhythm, or sound that tilts perception one way or another.

That’s where we’ll go next: how subtle cues, often unnoticed, steer the choices people believe they made freely.

Next in the series: Priming the Subconscious — The Mood Before the Message.

The Observer Effect in Marketing – What Happens to a Brand the Moment It’s Seen

Two people walk into the same restaurant.
The lights are low, candles flicker softly on the tables.

One smiles, feeling a wave of calm. To them, candlelight means romance — warmth, love, and connection.
The other stiffens slightly. For them, candlelight recalls funerals, mourning, and loss.

Same room. Same glow. Two completely different worlds.

That moment has always fascinated me.
How can the same light create opposite emotions?
How can one person’s comfort be another’s discomfort?

It’s as if we don’t see the world as it is — we see it as we are.

And that thought took me back to something I’ve been reading about and watching for years — the double-slit experiment, one of the strangest discoveries in science.


We Don’t See Reality — We Interpret It

In the double-slit experiment, light behaves like a wave — pure potential — until someone observes it.
The moment it’s watched, it collapses into a single outcome. Observation itself changes what is.

That isn’t poetic exaggeration — it’s physics.
And the more I studied it, the more I realized how deeply it connects to human life.

We don’t see the Earth as it truly is; we see it as our biology allows.
Our eyes capture only a narrow slice of the electromagnetic spectrum — a slim window we call “visible light.”
Bees see ultraviolet patterns on flowers. Snakes detect heat signatures. Birds sense magnetic fields.
Even the air we breathe is full of energy and particles that we simply can’t see.

Our brains filter this complexity down to what we can handle — not for truth, but for survival.
They edit the universe into a manageable illusion, one that feels solid and familiar.

So when you and I look at that same candle, we aren’t really seeing the same thing.
We’re each seeing what our biology, our memories, and our experiences allow us to see.

That’s why I believe everything humans create — our art, our language, our cities, our technology, and yes, our brands — is filtered through the same perceptual lens.
We don’t build reality from scratch; we build it from what we understand of reality.

Marketing, then, isn’t an invention apart from life — it’s an extension of how life itself works.
Brands, like everything else, exist in endless possibility until they are observed.
And once they’re observed, they become whatever the observer’s perception allows.


The Consumer as the Observer

Before a consumer experiences your brand, it exists in a cloud of possibilities.
It could be modern or old-fashioned, affordable or premium, inspiring or ordinary.
But the moment someone interacts with it — sees your billboard, scrolls your post, walks into your store, or uses your product — their mind collapses all those possibilities into one reality:

“This is who this brand is.”

And when I say “see,” I don’t just mean eyesight.
Seeing includes every sensory and emotional encounter — your tone of voice, your color choices, your scent, your speed of service, the music in your store.
Each of these is a point of observation. Each one collapses meaning into perception.

It’s the same as those two people in the restaurant.
Same candlelight, different meanings.
The brand didn’t change — the observers did.

That’s marketing’s humbling truth: people don’t see your brand; they see themselves through it.


The Brand as the Observed

But there’s another layer.
In physics, particles behave differently when observed.
In marketing, brands do too.

When we know we’re being watched, we act differently — it’s called the Hawthorne effect.
A restaurant sharpens its service when it spots a reviewer.
A business becomes overly polite when journalists start calling.
A social page suddenly posts its community work once followers are paying attention.

Observation turns brands into performers.
And that’s not necessarily bad — it’s awareness.
When you know you’re visible, you become deliberate.

But there’s a risk: if you try to perform for everyone, you stop meaning anything to anyone.
The candlelight can’t mean romance and mourning at the same time.
You must choose whose perception defines your light.


Perception and the Right Eyes

That’s where audience comes in — not as a marketing checkbox, but as an act of focus.
Different observers collapse different realities.

A youthful clothing shop in Manzini might blast amapiano not to annoy older shoppers, but to signal belonging to the young.
A local brewery might use rough, hand-drawn labels that feel “authentic” to some and “cheap” to others.
Each choice invites a certain type of observer to see the brand in the right light.

You can’t please everyone, not because you shouldn’t, but because you can’t exist the same way for everyone.
The observer decides which version of you becomes real.


Seeing Creates Reality

Once you understand that, everything about marketing changes.
It’s no longer about controlling the message — it’s about shaping perception.

You stop obsessing over what you show and start caring about what people actually see.
Because what they see depends on who they are, what they’ve lived through, and what the symbols around them mean.

To one person, red means love. To another, danger. To another, a sale.
E200 for a perfume might whisper “luxury” to one buyer and shout “wasteful” to another.
Same facts, different frames.

Marketing isn’t about creating one truth; it’s about shaping the conditions of observation that allow your desired truth to appear.

Just like those two people under the candlelight, two consumers can experience the same brand and walk away with opposite feelings.
And that’s okay.
The goal isn’t to change their light — it’s to understand which eyes you were meant to be seen through.


The Real Work of Branding

Once you see marketing this way, everything softens and sharpens at the same time.
You stop shouting for attention and start shaping what attention reveals.
You become intentional about sound, color, language, and timing — because each one is an invitation for meaning to form.

When the right people see your brand, you don’t need to convince them.
They collapse it into the version of reality that already feels true to them.

Because in the end, the candlelight doesn’t change.
The glow stays the same.
What changes is who’s watching — and what that light means to them.

Observation doesn’t just record reality.
It creates it.

And in marketing, that means every consumer, in their own quiet way, becomes the co-creator of your brand.


Looking Ahead: Framing Reality

So the question becomes: if observation creates reality, how do we guide what that reality becomes?
How do we frame the moment of being seen so that what people collapse into meaning aligns with who we really are?

That’s where we go next — into the quiet architecture of perception.
Because once you understand that people don’t see the world as it is but as it’s framed, you begin to see that marketing isn’t just communication.

It’s construction.

Next in the series: Framing Reality — The Psychology of Meaning.

How Eswatini Brands Can Win Attention in a Noisy Market: Lessons from Cognitive Psychology

I’ve always been fascinated by the strange relationship between the observer and the observed.
In that corner of quantum physics known as the double-slit experiment, light behaves like a wave of infinite possibilities—until someone observes it.
Once it’s watched, it suddenly behaves like a particle, collapsing from many potential realities into a single, measurable one.

That idea has always stayed with me: that maybe the world isn’t what it is, but what our perception collapses it into.
Each of us lives in a slightly different version of reality, built from attention, memory, and expectation.

Lately, that fascination has started to merge with how I think about marketing.
It actually began one evening on TikTok, when I stumbled across a local influencer doing riddles with people in town.
You know the kind—“You’re a Pulse bus driver; two people get off, ten get on; what’s the driver’s age?”
Everyone gets it wrong because the mind is too busy solving the wrong problem.

And that’s when it clicked for me.
These riddles aren’t just games—they’re miniature psychology experiments.
They reveal how our brains filter reality, make predictions, and miss what’s right in front of us.
And if that’s not marketing psychology, I don’t know what is.

The more I thought about it, the more I realized that marketing and physics share something profound:
what people see is never the full picture—it’s what their brain decides to see.
That’s what led me to explore how misdirection, framing, priming, and cognitive sets quietly guide what consumers notice, believe, and choose.


The Brain Is the Real Battleground

In Eswatini’s crowded market, everyone’s shouting. Billboards, radio spots, influencer posts—each fighting for the same few seconds of mental space.
But here’s the truth: our brains don’t absorb everything. They predict what’s worth noticing.

The mind is efficient to the point of arrogance—it edits the world before we experience it.
That’s why a bright yellow MTN billboard stands out instantly, while a muted government poster, though equally visible, fades into the background.
The brain has already decided what’s relevant before we even look.

That’s what psychologists call cognitive steering—the process of guiding perception without forcing it.
And it’s at the core of how brands shape their realities.


1. Misdirection — Where the Eyes Go, the Mind Follows

Magicians do this best: they move your attention so skillfully that the truth becomes invisible.
Marketers use the same principle every day.

A flashing “Limited Offer!” or a ticking countdown timer isn’t random decoration.
It’s attentional design—steering the eye toward urgency instead of price.
It’s not manipulation; it’s storytelling.
Because people don’t respond to everything you show them—they respond to what you highlight first.

For Eswatini brands, the key question becomes: what deserves the spotlight?
Before you speak, decide what you want people to see before their mind drifts.


2. Framing — How Meaning Changes Shape

Two identical truths can feel completely different depending on how they’re framed.
“90% fat-free” feels healthy. “10% fat” feels guilty. Same numbers, different emotion.

That’s the power of framing—it doesn’t change facts; it changes context.
A bank that says “Own your future” is no longer selling savings—it’s selling empowerment.
A telecom that says “Stay connected to those who matter” isn’t talking about data—it’s talking about belonging.

In Eswatini, where trust and personal connection still shape buying behavior more than algorithms, the frame often decides which brand feels right.


3. Priming — The Mood Before the Message

Before logic enters, emotion has already voted.
That’s priming—when subtle cues like color, rhythm, and sound trigger emotional readiness.

A perfume ad doesn’t start with a price—it starts with atmosphere: warm light, soft music, elegant motion.
It primes you for prestige long before you think about cost.

The same happens online. Rounded buttons and warm tones feel safe; sharp edges and cold blues feel efficient.
The consumer’s brain is already halfway to “yes” before the offer appears.


4. Cognitive Set — Breaking the Old Mental Script

Here’s the biggest challenge: once people “know” your brand, they stop seeing it.
It’s called the Einstellung effect, or mental lock-in.

We’ve all experienced it—a brand we think we’ve already figured out.
The moment we assign it a label (“cheap,” “serious,” “for older people”), every new message gets filtered through that assumption.

That’s why surprise is one of the most powerful tools in marketing.
Old Spice broke its stereotype with absurd humor.
A serious Eswatini bank could do the same by showing warmth and human moments.
A familiar retailer could borrow luxury aesthetics just to reset perception.

Sometimes you don’t need a new story—you just need to tell the old one in a new voice.


So What Does This Mean for Us?

We can’t win attention by being louder.
We win it by designing how people interpret what they see.

  • Misdirection captures the eye.

  • Framing gives it meaning.

  • Priming sets the mood.

  • Cognitive Set decides whether they still care.

Together, these shape how consumers move from seeing to believing.


The Bigger Realization

As I kept unpacking these ideas, something deeper began to surface.
Most of what we call choice in marketing isn’t really choice at all.
It’s guided perception—the same kind of illusion that makes a riddle work or a magician’s trick succeed.

Consumers don’t simply choose between products; they choose between realities carefully framed for them.
And once you understand that, marketing stops being about persuasion and starts becoming about designing perception consciously.

That thought became the starting point for this new series:

The Illusion of Choice — how perception, psychology, and context quietly decide for us before we think we’ve chosen.

In the next part of this series, we’ll look at how the Observer Effect—the simple act of being seen—changes what a brand becomes.

Because in the end, people don’t buy what they see.
They buy what their brain decides to notice.

The SME Brain Drain: Why Small Businesses Remain Small

There’s a cycle playing out in SMEs across the country that nobody wants to talk about. It’s not about lack of funding, market access, or government support—though those are real issues. This is about something more insidious, more personal, and frankly, more heartbreaking for those of us running small businesses.

We’re training the workforce for corporates. And we’re doing it at our own expense.

The Investment Nobody Sees

Picture this: A young person walks into your office. Fresh out of school, maybe a diploma or degree in hand, but zero practical experience. The big companies won’t touch them—no experience, they say. But you see potential. You see hunger. So you take a chance.

For the first six months, they’re a net loss. Mistakes everywhere. You’re correcting their work, redoing presentations, holding their hand through client interactions. You’re paying them a salary while essentially running a private training academy. But you persist because you remember when someone gave you a shot.

By month twelve, they’re starting to get it. Fewer mistakes. Better output. You can actually delegate without holding your breath.

By year two, something magical happens. They’ve become competent. Confident, even. They’re producing work that actually moves the business forward. They’re handling clients. They’re solving problems independently.

And then they resign.

The Cruel Mathematics of SME Development

Here’s what that journey cost you: Two years of salary. Hundreds of hours of mentorship and training. The opportunity cost of projects you couldn’t take on because you were busy teaching. The client goodwill you burned through while they learned on the job.

Just when you’re about to recoup that investment—just when they’re finally adding more value than they’re consuming—they’re gone.

The resignation letter is always polite. They’re grateful for the opportunity. They’ve learned so much. But they’ve received an offer they can’t refuse. Better benefits. Career progression. A fancy job title.

From a corporate.

The Corporate Playbook

Let’s be clear about what’s happening here. This isn’t accidental. Corporates have mastered the art of talent acquisition from SMEs. They’ve figured out that we do the hard work of development, and they can simply cherry-pick the results.

But here’s where it gets particularly painful: Sometimes they don’t even wait for the resignation. They engineer it.

You land a contract with a big company. Fantastic news. You assign one of your rising stars to the project. They deliver. The corporate client is impressed. The contract period ends.

Then comes the corporate job offer. Direct to your employee.

The contract doesn’t get renewed. But your employee does—as their employee.

You’re left with a gap in your team, lost institutional knowledge, and the bitter taste of having been used as a free recruitment and training agency.

Why This Matters Beyond One Business

This isn’t just about hurt feelings or business frustration. This cycle is one of the fundamental reasons why SMEs struggle to scale. How do you grow when you can’t retain institutional knowledge? How do you build capacity when your capacity keeps walking out the door just as it matures?

Every time we lose a trained employee to a corporate, we’re not just losing a person. We’re losing:

  • The systems and processes they learned to navigate
  • The client relationships they built
  • The industry knowledge they accumulated
  • The mistakes they already made (and learned from)
  • The investment of time and money we poured into their development

We’re reset to zero. Again. And again. And again.

Meanwhile, corporates build on the foundation we laid, enjoying the benefits of employees who already know how to work, how to think, how to solve problems—all skills honed in our small businesses.

The Uncomfortable Truth

Young professionals stay in SMEs while they’re unsure of themselves. The moment confidence kicks in, the moment they realize their worth in the market, they’re gone. And who can blame them? We can’t compete with corporate salaries, benefits, and brand names.

But let’s call this what it is: An exploitative system where SMEs serve as the training ground for corporate talent pipelines, bearing all the cost and reaping almost none of the long-term benefit.

A Different Way Forward

Corporates, here’s a radical idea: Instead of poaching talent from the SMEs you work with, how about acknowledging the role we play in developing that talent?

When you identify exceptional people working for your SME suppliers, extend the contract with the SME. Increase the rates to account for the value that trained professional brings. Build long-term partnerships that recognize the investment SME owners make in developing talent.

Is this a pipe dream? Probably. Does it go against every instinct of corporate cost management and talent acquisition strategies? Absolutely.

But until something changes—until there’s recognition and respect for the role SMEs play in workforce development—we’ll remain stuck. Training staff we can’t keep. Starting over every two years. Never quite growing beyond “small” because we’re constantly rebuilding our foundation.

This is one of the many reasons SMEs struggle to graduate from startups to sustainable businesses. Not lack of ambition. Not lack of skill. But a system that extracts value from us without compensation, recognition, or even basic acknowledgment of what’s happening.

The brain drain is real. And it’s keeping small businesses small.

Why Regional Marketing Strategy Wins in Eswatini

The most powerful marketing strategy in Eswatini is the one nobody talks about—because it works in silence.

I’ve been studying how brands show up in people’s lives across Eswatini, and there’s a pattern that most marketers completely miss. It’s what I call regional marketing—the black ninja of brand strategy. Silent, often invisible, but devastatingly effective.

When we analyzed the Top Brands Survey conducted by Yati, the numbers revealed something more interesting than just preference rankings. They showed me where preference comes from. And that geographic dimension tells a completely different story about how brands actually win in this country.

The Geography of Trust

Take the telecommunications battle between MTN and Eswatini Mobile. On the surface, MTN’s 54.1% preference looks like straightforward market dominance. But dig deeper, and you discover it’s really a story about geography and what different communities value.

MTN’s strength comes from rural Eswatini, where reliability trumps everything else. When you’re outside Mbabane or Manzini, every bar of network signal matters. People don’t just want connectivity—they need it to work consistently. MTN built that trust over years of being present when others weren’t, of providing service that rural communities could depend on.

Meanwhile, Eswatini Mobile’s 39.5% preference tells a different story. Their strength lies in urban centers, particularly among younger consumers who prioritize data packages, digital innovation, and modern brand positioning. They’re the cool alternative that speaks to aspirational urban lifestyles.

Two brands, same market, completely different value propositions shaped by geographic realities.

The Retail Geography Lesson

The retail sector reveals the same pattern. Bhunu Mall’s 28.3% preference ranking reflects its position as the heartbeat of urban Manzini—convenient, varied, and central to city life. But travel to Shiselweni, and Nhlangano Mall holds its ground not because it’s bigger or flashier, but because it resonates with local community life.

This isn’t about mall size or investment levels. It’s about understanding that shopping behavior changes based on where people live, how they move through their communities, and what role retail plays in their daily lives.

Urban shoppers want convenience and variety in one location. Rural shoppers want familiarity, accessibility, and connection to community rhythms. Different geographies, different shopping logics.

Why Most Marketing Misses This

The problem with marketing in Eswatini is that most campaigns assume a single, uniform consumer. Brands create one message, one positioning, one value proposition and blast it across the country as if geography doesn’t matter.

But Eswatini isn’t uniform. Our rural and urban identities shape everything—how we build trust, how we spend money, what we consider valuable, even how we relate to brands themselves.

As Samkeliso Magagula from our team put it: “Regional patterns in consumer behavior show us that winning nationally requires a layered approach—brands that ignore the rural-urban divide risk missing half the story.”

The Subtlety Advantage

What makes regional marketing so powerful is its subtlety. It’s not about having the loudest TV commercial or the biggest sponsorship deal. It’s about showing up in ways that matter to people in their specific corner of the country.

In some regions, that means emphasizing reliability over innovation. In others, it means highlighting trendiness over tradition. The brands that can balance both—being dependable in rural settings while exciting in urban ones—develop a kind of national strength that’s nearly impossible to replicate.

This approach rewards understanding over volume, insight over investment. A brand that truly grasps how geography shapes consumer behavior can outmaneuver competitors with much larger marketing budgets.

The Strategic Framework

Through analyzing our survey data and observing successful brands across Eswatini, I’ve identified what effective regional marketing actually requires:

Geographic Segmentation Beyond Demographics

Stop thinking rural versus urban is just about income levels or education. It’s about different relationship patterns with brands, different trust-building mechanisms, different definitions of value.

Value Proposition Flexibility

Your core brand promise might remain consistent, but how you communicate that promise needs to shift based on regional priorities. Reliability resonates differently in Hhohho than innovation does in Manzini.

Distribution Strategy Alignment

How and where people access your product or service changes dramatically across regions. Urban convenience requirements differ completely from rural accessibility needs.

Trust-Building Mechanisms

Urban consumers might trust brands based on social proof and trendy positioning. Rural consumers often trust based on long-term reliability and community reputation. Different regions, different trust equations.

The Missed Opportunities

Most brands in Eswatini are leaving money on the table by not thinking regionally. They’re either trying to be everything to everyone (and ending up meaning nothing to anyone) or focusing exclusively on urban markets while ignoring rural potential.

The opportunity lies in developing what I call “regional coherence”—maintaining brand consistency while allowing regional relevance. It’s more complex than single-message marketing, but it’s also more effective.

Beyond Rural-Urban

Regional thinking extends beyond just rural versus urban divisions. Within urban areas, different neighborhoods respond to different approaches. Within rural areas, different communities have distinct preferences and behaviors.

The most successful brands I’ve observed develop almost neighborhood-level understanding of how their value proposition resonates. They think nationally but execute locally, maintaining brand integrity while allowing regional flexibility.

The Implementation Challenge

The biggest challenge with regional marketing isn’t conceptual—it’s operational. It requires:

Multiple campaign variations rather than single national campaigns Regional market research that goes deeper than traditional demographic data
Flexible distribution strategies that work differently across geographic areas Local relationship building that can’t be centralized or automated

This complexity scares many marketers into defaulting to simple, uniform approaches. But that’s exactly why regional marketing becomes a competitive advantage for brands willing to invest in the complexity.

The Black Ninja Advantage

Regional marketing works like a black ninja because it operates below the radar of traditional marketing metrics. You can’t easily measure its impact through simple reach or frequency calculations. Its power lies in relevance, resonance, and relationship-building that happens at the community level.

Brands that master this approach don’t just win market share—they win market trust. And in a small country like Eswatini, where word-of-mouth still drives significant business, trust translates directly into sustainable competitive advantage.

The Future of Brand Building

The brands that will dominate Eswatini’s future aren’t necessarily those with the biggest budgets or the flashiest campaigns. They’re the ones that understand geography shapes everything—from trust patterns to purchasing behavior to brand loyalty.

These brands will invest in understanding not just who their customers are, but where they are and how location influences their relationship with products and services.

They’ll recognize that national brand strength comes from adding up regional brand relevance, not from broadcasting uniform messages and hoping they resonate everywhere.

The Strategic Imperative

For any brand serious about long-term success in Eswatini, regional marketing isn’t optional—it’s essential. The country may be small, but it’s not simple. Our geographic, cultural, and economic diversity requires marketing approaches that respect and leverage that complexity.

The black ninja of marketing doesn’t announce itself with loud campaigns or expensive activations. It builds preference quietly, community by community, region by region, relationship by relationship.

And in the end, that quiet approach often wins the loudest victories.

 

 

Entrepreneurship Is Not Self-Employment: Lessons from 20 Years in the Trenches

For years, we’ve been sold a story: start your own business, be your own boss, achieve financial freedom. It’s a story repeated at workshops, in glossy brochures, and by motivational speakers who make a living selling the dream. But after two decades of building, winning, stumbling, and rebuilding, I can tell you this: what most people call entrepreneurship is not entrepreneurship at all. It’s self-employment. And the two are very different.

The Illusion of Financial Freedom

When people talk about entrepreneurship, they often mean self-employment: opening a small business, freelancing, hustling to pay the bills. That’s valid work, but let’s not confuse it with true entrepreneurship. Self-employment can give you independence, but it often traps you in endless work, thin margins, and constant compliance battles.

In countries like ours, the system makes this worse. Taxes pile up. Access to credit is almost impossible. Compliance costs eat away at your revenue until you’re forced to cut corners. Many SMEs don’t fail because their founders are lazy or incompetent—they fail because the environment punishes them for trying.

Meanwhile, the narrative of “financial freedom” is dangled in front of you like a carrot. But financial freedom doesn’t come from self-employment. If anything, it can chain you tighter.

What Real Entrepreneurship Looks Like

True entrepreneurship is different. It’s not about creating a job for yourself. It’s about building systems, assets, and organizations that can live beyond you. Entrepreneurs don’t just own a business; they design a machine that creates value at scale.

Self-employment says: I work for myself.
Entrepreneurship says: I build something that works even without me.

That difference is massive. The self-employed are limited by their own time and energy. Entrepreneurs multiply their impact through people, processes, and products that grow larger than their personal effort.

One of the books that helped me see this distinction—beyond my own experience—was Robert Kiyosaki’s Cashflow Quadrant. Kiyosaki explains the difference between being an Employee (E), Self-Employed (S), Business Owner (B), and Investor (I). Most of us are stuck in the “S” quadrant—working harder and harder for ourselves—but never crossing into “B,” where systems and people work for you. That framework clarified for me why so many SMEs get trapped and why so few make the leap to true entrepreneurship.

Why the Distinction Matters

I’ve succeeded at times and failed at others. I’ve made money, and I’ve lost more than I thought I could. I’ve seen corporate classmates climb the ladder with stability and security while I wrestled with tenders, compliance, and tax burdens. And through it all, I’ve come to one clear conclusion: the language around entrepreneurship has misled us.

If we keep confusing self-employment with entrepreneurship, we will keep producing more disillusioned founders, trapped in survival mode and wondering why the “freedom” never comes.

We need honesty. We need to separate the two. We need to stop pretending that registering a business is the same as building an enterprise. And we need to build systems in this country that actually allow entrepreneurs to thrive—because when true entrepreneurship wins, society wins.

Three Steps to Move from Self-Employment to Entrepreneurship

If you’ve recognized yourself in the “self-employed” trap, don’t despair. You can start shifting toward true entrepreneurship. It won’t be easy, but it is possible:

1. Build Systems, Not Just Income
Ask yourself: can this business run without me for a month? If the answer is no, then you’re not yet an entrepreneur—you’re self-employed. Start documenting processes, training others, and creating systems that make your business less dependent on you.

2. Leverage People and Partnerships
You can’t scale alone. Entrepreneurs multiply their impact through teams, collaborators, and networks. Hire, delegate, and form partnerships that expand your reach and create new revenue streams beyond your direct labor.

3. Focus on Assets, Not Just Hustle
Assets—brands, intellectual property, technology, distribution networks—are what separate the entrepreneur from the self-employed. Hustle pays the bills, but assets create long-term wealth. Start asking: what am I building today that will still generate value tomorrow, even if I’m not working?

Final Word

If you’re self-employed, don’t be ashamed of it. But know what it is. Don’t let anyone sell you the lie that it guarantees wealth or freedom. And if you’re serious about entrepreneurship, prepare yourself for something much harder, much riskier, but also potentially much more rewarding.

After 20 years, here’s what I know: self-employment feeds you. Entrepreneurship changes the game. And until we stop confusing the two, we’ll keep lying to ourselves.

The Death of Marketing in Eswatini: Why We’re Stuck in Templates

Walk into most boardrooms in Eswatini and you’ll find a marketer with a neat calendar of campaigns: the annual golf day, the December billboard, the Trade Fair stand, the “back-to-school” promo. It’s tidy, predictable, safe. But let’s be honest—this isn’t strategy. It’s habit.

Many of our biggest companies would survive just fine without their marketing departments. They’ve been around for decades, with guaranteed customers and stable markets. The marketer’s contribution is often a matter of repeating what was done last year, with the same suppliers, the same playbook. Businesses do need marketing—desperately—but marketers themselves have bought into the illusion that what they’re doing is enough.

The Comfort of Templates

Too many marketers in Eswatini are scared to rock the boat. To present disruptive, iconic ideas is to risk failure, and failure feels career-limiting in a small corporate circle. So they stick to templates—until someone else tries it first. Then it becomes “safe,” and only then does it get adopted. This is not bravery; it’s bureaucracy masquerading as marketing.

When asked to invest in something new—say, E10,000 on an experiential activation that connects directly with customers—marketers hesitate. But the same marketers won’t blink at signing off hundreds of thousands for a glamorous Trade Fair stand that exists more to win an award than to grow sales. It’s easier to justify the shiny, the traditional, the board-pleasing, than to defend the gritty work of moving markets.

When Disruption Makes People Squirm

I remember a campaign we ran around 2015 or 2016 that showed me exactly what disruption can do.

A colleague of mine had just joined the client company. He was the type of marketer every industry needs more of—restless, disruptive, unwilling to settle for the ordinary. He pulled me aside and said: “Let’s do something they’ll never forget.”

And so we did. We designed a campaign that broke every mold they were used to. It was loud, it was fresh, it cut through the static. People were talking about it in taxis, in offices, in bars. It was marketing that actually moved.

But success came with discomfort. The campaign shook the walls inside that company so much that operations called for internal investigations. Payments to us were frozen. I was summoned to their fraud department, treated not as a partner but as a suspect. A Manager who has been instrumental in enabling the campaign was dragged through the mud as though innovation itself was a crime.

Yati came out clean, of course. There was no fraud, no wrongdoing from our part —just the shockwaves of genuine disruption. Still, the fallout was real: resignations followed. My colleague himself, even though never called for a formal DC,  eventually left the company, disillusioned by how allergic they were to boldness.

That’s the kind of disruption I’m talking about. Marketing that rattles nests, that unsettles people, that forces conversations no one wants to have. And yet, as long as we are clean, as long as our motives are pure, that kind of disruption is not only safe—it’s necessary. Which is exactly why I struggle with local marketers today. Too many prefer the comfort of silence over the chaos of growth.

Operations Over Strategy

This culture has also reduced senior marketers into coordinators. Too often, the marketing manager is the one unpacking branding at an event, arranging chairs, or even taking food to promoters at a mall stall. These are not unimportant tasks, but they are operations. Strategic marketing—the kind that designs growth pathways, unlocks new markets, and creates value for customers—gets crowded out by event logistics and daily firefighting.

Of course, the problem is partly structural. Many companies in Eswatini don’t have full marketing teams. The “marketing department” is often one or two people expected to do everything. But shortage of staff should not become a shield for mediocrity. Strategy does not need a large team; it needs courage, clarity, and conviction.

Why This Matters

The result of template marketing is that businesses are losing opportunities to grow. Marketing has been reduced to a cost center instead of a growth engine. Budgets are cut in areas that matter—data, insights, customer engagement—and diverted to what looks glamorous on a report. Sponsorships worth millions get approved, but subscriptions for real-time consumer data at a fraction of that cost get declined.

The irony is hard to miss: marketers are meant to be the champions of change, but in Eswatini they’ve become custodians of comfort. Instead of leading their organizations into the future, they spend their time defending the past.

A Call to Marketers

This is not written out of bitterness. It is written out of urgency. Eswatini needs marketers who will stop hiding behind templates and logistics, and start fighting for strategy. Who will have the courage to pitch the disruptive idea, even if it risks rejection. Who will insist on data over gut feel, growth over glamour, customer impact over board applause.

Our economy is too small, our challenges too large, for marketing to be treated as rinse-and-repeat. If you call yourself a marketer, ask yourself: are you building growth, or just keeping your chair warm?

The Startup Builder’s Reality: Why Your Job Isn’t What You Think It Is

This article is part of the series “When Dreams Need Builders” – exploring how visionaries and builders must work together to transform ideas into lasting impact.

The biggest shock for corporate professionals joining startups isn’t the long hours or uncertainty—it’s discovering their job description was fiction.


I’ll never forget the conversation. A talented operations manager I’d hired from a large corporation sat in my office at Yati Group, frustrated and confused. “Mfundo,” he said, “I was hired to run operations, but you’re asking me to help with client presentations, fix our invoicing system, and even weigh in on our marketing strategy. What exactly is my job?”

That’s when I realized the fundamental disconnect that kills most visionary-builder partnerships in startups. He thought he was an employee with a defined role. I needed him to be a builder responsible for whatever it takes to make the vision work.

The Great Job Description Lie

Here’s the uncomfortable truth I’ve learned while building Yati Group: every job description in a startup is a lie. Not intentionally, but practically.

When I write “Operations Manager” on a job posting, what I really mean is: “Someone who will build operational systems that don’t exist yet, while also jumping in wherever gaps threaten the vision.” When I hire a “Finance Head,” I’m actually looking for someone who will create financial processes from scratch, negotiate with suppliers, and probably help close client deals when needed.

But most people joining startups come with a corporate mindset. They expect defined roles, clear hierarchies, and the luxury of saying “that’s not my department.” They think they’re joining a smaller version of their last company, not a daily battle to build something from nothing.

Why “That’s Not My Job” Kills Startups

In my experience, the phrase “that’s not my job” is the fastest way to identify someone who doesn’t understand startup building. I’ve heard it countless times:

“I’m in finance, I don’t handle client complaints.” “I run operations, I don’t do business development.” “I manage HR, I don’t deal with supplier issues.”

Each time I hear it, I know we have a problem. Because in a startup, especially in the early days, your job isn’t your title—it’s whatever the vision needs most urgently.

I remember a crisis where our biggest client was threatening to leave because of a service delivery issue. My “HR Manager” stepped up, spent the weekend understanding the client’s business, and personally managed the recovery. She didn’t say “that’s operations’ problem.” She said “that’s our problem, and I’m going to help solve it.”

That’s when I knew she was a builder, not just an employee.

The Startup Builder’s True Hierarchy

Unlike corporate environments where hierarchy is based on titles and departments, startups have a different hierarchy: problems first, ego second.

The most urgent threat to the vision gets attention from whoever can solve it best, regardless of their official role. I’ve seen my finance head jump into client presentations because he understood the numbers better than anyone. I’ve watched my operations manager redesign our marketing approach because she had insights about client experience that our marketing efforts were missing.

This isn’t chaos—it’s survival. When you’re building something from zero, every challenge requires builders who will step up and hold their line, even if that line isn’t on their official job description.

What Startup Building Actually Requires

Based on my experience building Yati Group and watching other African startups succeed or fail, here’s what startup builders actually need to understand:

You’re Not Maintaining—You’re Creating

In a corporate job, you maintain existing systems. In a startup, you’re creating systems that have never existed. Every process, every relationship, every solution is being built from scratch. Your job is to be a creator, not a maintainer.

Every Gap Is Your Responsibility

If there’s a gap that threatens the vision and you can fill it, it becomes your responsibility. The client needs a proposal but business development is swamped? You help write it. The supplier relationship is breaking down but it’s not your department? You help fix it.

Your Success Is Measured by Vision Progress, Not Task Completion

In corporate roles, you’re measured by how well you complete your assigned tasks. In startups, you’re measured by how much you contribute to moving the overall vision forward. Sometimes that means abandoning your to-do list to handle whatever crisis threatens the dream.

You Must Build Systems While Fighting Fires

Perhaps the hardest part of startup building is that you have to create sustainable processes while simultaneously handling immediate crises. You can’t say “let me focus on building systems once things calm down” because in startups, things never calm down until you’ve built the systems that create calm.

The Mindset Shift That Changes Everything

I’ve watched builders succeed and fail at Yati Group, and the difference always comes down to mindset. The ones who thrive make this shift:

From: “I’m here to do my job as defined.” To: “I’m here to build whatever the vision needs.”

From: “That’s not my department.” To: “How can I help solve this?”

From: “I need clear instructions.” To: “I see a problem, let me create a solution.”

From: “I maintain existing processes.” To: “I create new processes that can scale.”

This mindset shift is what separates corporate employees from startup builders. It’s why some people thrive in startups while others feel lost and frustrated.

When Builders Don’t Understand Their Role

I’ve seen what happens when builders don’t understand their true role in a startup. They wait for detailed job descriptions that will never come. They escalate every decision to the visionary instead of taking ownership. They focus on their narrow responsibilities while the vision drowns in the gaps they refuse to fill.

The result is always the same: the visionary becomes trapped in operational quicksand, handling every crisis personally because the builders are standing on the sidelines waiting for permission to help.

The Freedom of True Building

But when builders understand their real role, something magical happens. They stop asking “Is this my job?” and start asking “How can we solve this?” They stop waiting for the perfect role definition and start creating the role the vision needs.

I’ve watched my best builders transform challenges that could have killed Yati Group into systems that made us stronger. Not because it was officially their job, but because they understood that building the vision was everyone’s job.

Sometimes this means pushing through resistance when the vision feels unclear, taking ownership even when the path forward isn’t perfectly defined. The best builders understand that in startups, clarity comes through building, not before it.

The Reality Check for Potential Builders

If you’re considering joining a startup, or if you’re already in one but struggling with the ambiguity, ask yourself these questions:

Are you comfortable with undefined boundaries? If you need clear job descriptions and defined responsibilities to feel secure, startup building might not be for you.

Can you see problems as opportunities? Every gap, every crisis, every “that’s not supposed to be my job” moment is actually an opportunity to become indispensable to the vision.

Do you get energy from creating or from maintaining? If you prefer optimizing existing systems over building new ones, a mature company might be a better fit than a startup.

Can you measure success by collective progress rather than individual recognition? In startups, the vision’s success is everyone’s success, even if your specific contribution doesn’t get highlighted.

The Builder’s Choice in Startups

Here’s what I’ve learned through building Yati Group: startups don’t need employees. They need builders. People who see the vision and say “I’ll help make this real, whatever it takes.”

The most successful builders I’ve worked with understood from day one that their job description was really a starting point, not a boundary. They saw gaps and filled them. They spotted opportunities and seized them. They understood that in a startup, there’s no such thing as “not my job”—there’s only “how can I help build this vision?”

When builders understand this reality, startups become unstoppable. When they don’t, even the most brilliant visions end up in the graveyard of great ideas that never found the builders they needed to survive.

Your Startup Building Reality

If you’re in a startup right now, take a hard look around. What gaps do you see? What problems are threatening the vision that you could help solve? What systems need to be built that you could create?

Your job isn’t what’s written in your offer letter. Your job is whatever the vision needs to move from dream to reality. The question isn’t whether that’s fair or whether it matches your career plans.

The question is: Are you ready to be a builder?


This article is part of a series exploring the critical relationship between visionaries and builders: