There is a popular belief in business and in life that having a Plan B is a sign of wisdom. We are taught that it is reckless to commit fully to one path without a backup, especially in environments where uncertainty is real and failure carries consequences. On the surface, this sounds reasonable. However, what is rarely examined is the effect that an active Plan B has on behavior long before Plan A has been properly tested. In many cases, Plan B does not protect Plan A. It quietly undermines it.
The problem is not the existence of alternatives, but the timing and psychology behind them. When a fallback option is available too early, it changes how effort is deployed. People begin to ration commitment instead of investing it fully. Decisions become conservative rather than decisive. Difficult problems are postponed rather than confronted. This happens not because people are lazy or dishonest, but because the presence of an escape route reduces urgency. When something does not have to work, it rarely receives the intensity required to make it work.
In business, this shows up as divided attention. Founders spread themselves across multiple initiatives, convinced they are being strategic, when in reality they are diluting momentum. Plan A competes with Plan B for time, mental clarity, and emotional energy. Over time, both suffer. Plan A struggles due to underinvestment, while Plan B grows heavier and more demanding, eventually becoming the primary consumer of resources. When Plan A fails, it is often blamed on market conditions or bad timing, even though the real issue was that it never had a fair chance.
Another consequence of Plan B is its effect on resilience. When there is always an alternative, discomfort becomes harder to tolerate. The normal struggles of building something new begin to feel like warning signs rather than growth signals. Instead of asking what must change to move forward, people ask whether it is time to pivot. The ability to sit with uncertainty, which is essential for any meaningful long-term outcome, is gradually eroded. What appears to be flexibility is often avoidance.
Ironically, many of the stories we admire most are built on the absence of alternatives. People who succeed against overwhelming odds often do so because they were forced to focus. Without a fallback, they had no choice but to adapt, learn quickly, and push through resistance. This does not mean they were reckless; it means they were committed. Commitment changes the nature of effort. It turns experimentation into problem-solving and intention into execution.
This distinction between commitment and optionality became very real in my own journey. For most of my life, my true Plan A was online business, particularly affiliate marketing and digital platforms. Long before I was known for advertising or agency work, I was already generating meaningful income online. That world aligned with how I think and how I build. It was volatile and unpredictable, but it offered leverage and scale in ways traditional businesses rarely do.
In 2011, when the volatility became uncomfortable, I activated my Plan B. Instead of doubling down and refining what I knew, I went looking for a job. I had a BCom degree, and employment felt like the responsible move. That decision lasted eight months. I quit because it was clear that it was never going to work for me. What I did not recognize at the time was that I had already started abandoning Plan A at the first sign of instability.
After leaving employment, I started an advertising agency. That agency became Yati, the business I am most associated with today. What is often misunderstood is that Yati was not my original vision. It was a hedge. I built it as a fallback to protect myself from the perceived instability of online business. The early growth of Yati was funded by income from my digital work, not the other way around. Over time, the narrative shifted, and many assumed the agency succeeded because of big accounts and visibility, while the foundation that built it remained largely invisible.
As Yati grew, it demanded everything. Agency work is operationally intensive and people-driven. It requires constant attention, problem-solving, and emotional bandwidth. Gradually, my Plan B consumed the time and energy my Plan A needed. I told myself I would return to my original business once the agency stabilized, but stability in an agency is always temporary. There is always another crisis, another client risk, another internal challenge.
In 2020, I made a deliberate attempt to correct this. I hired a general manager and stepped back to focus on rebuilding my online business. For a brief period, it worked. The agency continued to grow, and I finally felt free to return to the work I had neglected for years. Then we lost a major client. Another large client was already halfway out. Almost overnight, the agency was under threat, and I was forced to abandon Plan A once again to rescue Plan B.
From 2020 to 2022, my attention was consumed by survival. Contracts were unstable, termination threats were real, and the business carried obligations that could not be ignored. During this period, my online business received almost no attention. It did not fail because it was no longer viable. It failed because it was starved of resources.
In 2023, the turnaround finally came. Performance improved significantly. Client satisfaction increased, and the agency became a case study within the region for how to recover from operational collapse. Then, in 2024, the same client terminated the contract. By December, the relationship had ended completely. At that point, my online business was producing zero revenue, much of the digital property I had built was gone, and rebuilding required focus I did not have. My Plan B, which was meant to protect me, was now collapsing under debt, staff turnover, and operational pressure.
As I write this, the struggle to stabilize Plan B is not over. What has become clear, however, is that my Plan A still exists without resources. I believe in it. I think about it constantly. But belief without allocation is ineffective. Time, money, and attention reveal priorities more accurately than intention ever will.
The lesson for me has been sobering. Plan B does not simply sit in the background. It shapes decisions, weakens urgency, and slowly redirects effort. When activated too early, it does not reduce risk; it multiplies it. It keeps you busy, respected, and exhausted, while the work that truly aligns with your strengths fades quietly.
Having a fallback is not wrong. Activating it before you have exhausted Plan A is. If something matters, it must be given the resources it requires to succeed. Otherwise, one day you wake up and realize that the very thing you built for safety has become the obstacle standing between you and the work you were meant to do.