Chapter 6: Stumbling Forward

Success is rarely a straight line. From cultural missteps to sales stumbles, this chapter highlights the messy, human side of entrepreneurship - and the resilience it takes to keep going.

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Transcript

The product worked. Now it was about bringing it to market.

And I absolutely loved sales.

I loved jumping into the cold water every day, not knowing how customers would react to what I had to say. It wasn’t just about transactions; it was about unpredictability and human connection. Every day was a leap into the unknown, a test of resilience and adaptability. The spark in the eyes of our customers; that was my true motivation and the payoff I chased.

In Germany, most customers do not have shiny office buildings in big cities. Most of them are located in remote places. It became my morning routine to board the train or plane very early and travel across the country for the day.

There were always surprises. I remember walking into a tobacco company’s meeting room where everyone smoked throughout our discussion. The air was thick, and I absolutely hate smoking, it was a real challenge. I smiled through it, though - it was part of the game. Then there was the food company, where everything smelled of salami. Salami, at least, was tolerable. 

One experience still makes me laugh. One prospect said, suggestively, “Gero, I am still a little undecided about your product. But there is this new iPad. If you could get me one of those, the decision would be so much simpler for me.” 

Yes, I saw buyers who thought bribery was ok. Or sexist jokes. Or questionable political statements. When I was on the road selling, I left my bubble behind and got to know a different face of my country. Yet, I knew I had to find a way to stay grounded, to navigate each encounter with professionalism while absorbing what lessons I could.

Occasionally, meetings drifted into uncharted, even sleepy, territory - sometimes literally. I recall Daniel’s infamous moment when he paced the office with his phone on loudspeaker with a customer snoring at full volume. We laughed, but these moments also taught us humility. Not every pitch lands; not every client engages.

I have seen a lot of phenomenal companies. I saw immense pride in their products, sometimes small inventions, sometimes large ones that changed the world. I have been to the inventors of coffee filters, of shopping carts and of plastic tubes. Germany is home to a lot of these “hidden champions”. To learn about their businesses and the way they operate on the inside, that was the biggest luxury of my job.

Sales and customer training occupied my days, but marketing was my favorite hobby. I usually enjoyed it between 7 and 10pm because this was when I didn’t spend time with customers. Crafting messages, experimenting with ways to reach new audiences, and figuring out how to make our story resonate - it was my nighttime passion project, a place where I could channel the day’s lessons into compelling narratives.

Torben and I knew it was crucial for us, as founders, to lead the early sales efforts and win those first few dozen customers ourselves. It was our job to push the sales process to a point where it became repeatable, ensuring our sales colleagues could take these early lessons and multiply them, driving growth from there.

Conferences and congresses played a vital role in this journey. Alongside our famous BPMN poster - which became surprisingly popular and often sparked conversations - these events allowed us to connect with numerous potential customers in a single day. Of all these, CeBIT was the pinnacle. It was the tech industry’s largest stage, where every major player came to exhibit, and for us, it was an unmissable opportunity to show that we belonged on the same stage.

Later, as interest grew even further, we decided to use a type of "Feed the Penguins" strategy, scheduling short, engaging presentations at regular intervals during conferences and exhibitions to maximize crowd engagement. By announcing set times for these demos - like, every half-hour, attendees knew when to gather, creating anticipation and drawing consistent interest. This approach was scaled up for major events like SAP’s Sapphire conference, attracting large crowds with precise scheduling and visible countdowns to the next presentation. It efficiently boosted visibility, allowing the team to engage a wider audience.

Software AG were the market leaders in process management software, and they knew we had been gaining ground. We had already replaced them at AOK, a very visible win that marked a turning point for us. United Internet was another major victory in our battle for market share against them. Their letter was a reminder of the stakes - we were playing in their territory, and they knew it. 

They started to notice us, it seemed. At least, they sent their lawyers. One week before CeBIT 2011, we received a “cease and desist” letter from them.

They had observed that we mentioned “ARIS” (the name of their product) in several of our Google AdWords and also on our website. We used phrasing like “Looking for an ARIS alternative?” or “The easy way to migrate ARIS content into Signavio.” Honestly, I didn’t know what was legally allowed and what was not. And, to be frank, I hadn’t cared up to that point.

Panic set in quickly. Germany’s second-largest software company was coming after us, and it felt truly intimidating. The letter detailed what they claimed were infringements and asked us to sign an agreement promising never to repeat these actions, with hefty fines for any violation.

Visions of disaster painted themselves in our minds. I imagined our CeBIT booth being raided, the image of it splashed across the news. Worse yet, I feared a knock on our office door from the police, ready to confiscate our computers.

Torben promptly contacted a lawyer for advice. The lawyer assured us that there was no need to panic and, crucially, that we shouldn’t sign the document. He would handle it for us, but advised a careful review of all our materials to ensure compliance in the interim.

We thoroughly searched every AdWord and removed all mentions of “ARIS.” Our CeBIT marketing material got a similar scrub; anything remotely questionable was trashed without hesitation.

CeBIT itself was a huge success for us, but the shadow of Software AG’s challenge lingered. It gave us many sleepless nights in the months that followed.

I urgently needed help with marketing. Therefore, we decided to create a dedicated position for that. We wanted to save money, so we opted for a marketing apprenticeship. This is a particular model in Germany, where candidates split their time between working at a company and attending university. It seemed like the ideal compromise - focused specialization, part-time work, and a low-cost hire.

We ran a job ad and quickly found a promising candidate. Within a few weeks of her interview, she started in the role. I felt relieved, believing that I finally had someone to share the growing workload of marketing.

Hiring her turned out to be a disaster and a huge lesson in our own recruitment process. 

It was the first time we had to fire an employee, and we’ve never had to dismiss anyone so quickly since: on day eight of her job.

Everything was fine during the interviews. But almost immediately, things began to unravel. On her first evening, some colleagues stayed late at the office. The next morning, she boasted that she had spent the night with one of my co-founders, detailing their supposed time together with vivid embellishments. I knew this was impossible, as my co-founder and I had walked home together the night before. I tried to address the inconsistencies in her story, but she refused to back down.

Later that week, she even repeated her story to my co-founder’s girlfriend, creating a mess that spiraled quickly.

Over the following days, things worsened. She created increasingly elaborate stories about team members, disrupting our small office and causing significant tension. The sequence seriously upset many of us. Within five days, most of my colleagues had complained to me - some more than once. It was clear we had a serious problem on our hands.

Without experience in letting someone go, Torben and I sought legal advice. Since she was still in her probationary period, the lawyer assured us it would be straightforward but cautioned us to handle it correctly. He drafted the necessary paperwork and guided us through the process.

On day eight of her employment, Torben and I called her in for a feedback meeting. We explained that her employment was terminated and she would be released immediately. She reacted with tears and rage, blaming everyone and declaring her life ruined. “This is it. I don’t want this life anymore! I will go straight to the Berlin Zoo station and throw myself under the next train,” she said.

We were both absolutely stunned and probably not equipped to handle how this situation had escalated. After a tense discussion, we decided we couldn’t leave her alone. Torben proposed driving her to her mother, and I gratefully agreed. While I spent the next half hour trying to calm her, Torben rented a car and made the long trip out of Berlin to deliver her safely to her family​​. My head was empty, I couldn’t think. I just agreed and was thankful that he took initiative.

We felt awful. It was horrible to let someone go and see that reaction. Even if it turned out to be a big relief for the team, this was a pain we remembered for a long time.

Beyond cultural fit, we learned the importance of relevant experience in critical roles. While giving opportunities to newcomers can be rewarding, there are certain positions that demand a seasoned hand. We needed someone with at least some knowledge of business process management and, more importantly, someone who knew how to effectively run a marketing function within a software company. Our first hire for this role lacked both, and that placed an undue burden on everyone around her, draining energy we couldn’t afford to waste.

Two weeks later, we hosted our first ever partner day. Consulting partners were important to us, as they helped our customers with all their business process work. We didn’t offer any consulting ourselves.

Most of our partners were freelance consultants or worked for small consulting firms in the business process space. Germany was a mature market in that respect, where it was standard for customers to acquire software from one company and seek consulting services from another.

Our partners generally liked our software, but many of them had plenty to say - much of it critical. “This feature is missing,” or “Why doesn’t the product do that?” was common feedback. In fact, partners proved to be more demanding than customers, often overwhelming Torben and me with their expectations and suggestions. The most exhausting times were when a partner was between consulting projects and filled their idle time telling us how to improve our product.

Out of sheer efficiency, we figured a partner day would be a great opportunity to gather many of them in one place and address their feedback collectively.

Then, at the event, magic happened.

We had 30 partners in attendance, and we started off with a quick introduction round. Instead of just telling who they were, they all focused on Signavio instead and started raving about how great our product was. Each partner had nicer things to say than the previous one. And the next one topped the previous one with praise and excitement. Once we had reached the last partner in the room, it felt like people were talking about the best company and product ever on the face of planet Earth. I realized that group dynamics can be a wonderful thing.

From that day on, partner complaints about our product dropped significantly. It was as if a switch had flipped; suddenly, our meetings were infused with positivity and encouragement​​.

During the event, I asked our partners why they didn’t position our product more with their clients. The engagement was high, but successful introductions to customers were still minimal.

Their response was unexpected: “Signavio is just too cheap. Your annual subscription per user is less than one day’s worth of my consulting fees. If I recommend your software, my customers might perceive my services as overpriced. And I’m not inclined to reduce my rates.”

“So, what if we simply make our software more expensive?” I asked. “Let’s say we increase the price by fifty percent - would that change things?”

“Yes, absolutely.” One of the partners replied. “The moment you do that, I will take you to all of my clients.”

Following this revelation, we discussed the idea with our sales team. Within a month, we adjusted our pricing structure and introduced a new, higher pricing tier for our product. This tier captured all major feature additions and set a new standard for its perceived value.

The result was astonishing. Within three months, the highest pricing tier became our most popular option. Not only did it validate our partners’ feedback, but it also led to larger deal sizes and a surge in new customers. It was fascinating to see how one small pricing adjustment could transform both revenue and partner engagement.

Torben and I often wondered what other changes we could implement to propel Signavio’s success further. Our regular train rides to Warsaw gave us ample time to brainstorm. These trips weren’t purely about work, though. We both had long-distance relationships with women in Warsaw - who, as fate would have it, were best friends. We each met entirely by chance. 

I met Karolina, my girlfriend and now wife, in 2010 when she visited Berlin with her friends for a weekend. That night Torben and I ended up at the same club as her group. It was a large venue in Potsdamer Platz with three dance floors, a place that doesn’t exist anymore. Karolina got separated from her friends at some point and ended up at the bar. She tells the story better than I do.

“I was sitting at the bar when Gero approached and started chatting,” she recalls. “He asked for my phone number, but I wasn’t really looking to meet anyone that night. So, I gave him a fake one.”

What she didn’t expect was my next move. 

“He called the number right then and there,” she said, laughing. “And, of course, my phone didn’t ring. He just looked at me and said, ‘It must be wrong.’ I was standing there, caught! What could I do? I laughed and gave him the real one.”

She still teases me about it. “I didn’t think you’d actually call it on the spot,” she said later. “But there I was, and I couldn’t exactly keep lying.”

After that, we connected on Facebook, which was how people stayed in touch back then. 

“Meanwhile, my friend was upstairs talking to another guy,” Karolina continued. “When she found me, she said, ‘I met a German guy.’ I said, ‘Me too!’”

That’s when we realized it wasn’t just any German guy - it was Torben!

I stopped working weekends, making space for one journey to Warsaw per month, one visit from Karolina to Berlin, and one trip to another European city together. For the first time, life wasn’t solely about the company. At least for 6 days a month. These trips shifted my work-life balance in a meaningful way.

“We were both working so much during the week,” Karolina recalled about this time. “I was in sales and private banking, managing a team of 60 people and traveling constantly for work. Gero was busy building Signavio and expanding the team. The weekdays were packed, and honestly, it was a good distraction. It kept us from overthinking how hard the long distance could be.”

We made those weekends count. It was a great way to share new experiences together and do what we loved - travel!

“We’d plan to meet somewhere,” Karolina said, “sometimes in Warsaw, sometimes Berlin, but also other places like Prague or Vienna. It depended on where my work projects were. If I was already in Norway for work, I’d say, ‘Hey, I’m in Norway—do you want to meet here?’ And Gero would book a flight.”

“It wasn’t ideal,” she continued, “but we were efficient with the time we had together. We both knew the distance couldn’t last forever this way, so we made the best of it at the time.”

Looking back, I can see how those trips built the foundation of our relationship. We both worked hard during the week and looked forward to seeing each other, no matter where we were. It taught me how to be present, even in the small windows of time we had together.

Back to hiring for marketing. I still needed urgent help.

This time, we didn’t repeat the mistake of hiring a student. Instead, we approached Katharina Beuck. She worked for one of our consulting partners, and we had met her a few times at events. Katharina had a strong grasp of the business process landscape due to her consulting background and held a university degree in business administration.

Still with my efficiency hat on, I assumed that marketing at Signavio would not be a full-time position. So, we crafted a dual role for her: half her time would focus on marketing, while the other half would be dedicated to running customer training sessions. Within a few weeks already, we could take marketing to a whole new level.

With Katharina joining as our first full-time female employee, we realized the company culture needed to mature. Up until then, we operated very much like a boys’ club. A Pirelli calendar adorned the office wall, and casual “boys’ jokes” were the norm. Katharina quickly pointed out what needed to change, and while the team was slow and sometimes reluctant to adjust, I found myself frequently reminding everyone that it was time to step up.

Simultaneously, we expanded hiring in sales. Gerrit and Daniel were overwhelmed with sales leads, and we knew we had to grow the team. Berlin’s pool of experienced software sales professionals was limited, as enterprise software companies were still relatively rare in the city. As a result, we recruited from outside of our fields.

Gerrit and Daniel themselves were great examples of this strength. Gerrit’s background was in financial services, and Daniel had previously sold construction supplies. The software salespeople we encountered at conferences lacked the spark we valued. Instead, we sought candidates from other high-energy environments.

Copycats of American startups became a pattern in Berlin. Zalando copied Zappos, Wimdu copied AirBnB and StudiVZ copied Facebook. The pattern was always the same: Create a European clone, scale it out as fast as possible and then try to sell it to the American original before they expand to Europe themselves. A key success factor was building sales at breakneck speed, in order to grab market share as fast as possible.

DailyDeal, a Groupon clone, was one such example as well, and it was there that we found our third salesperson: Amin Mohamed. From the outset, Amin’s energy was remarkable. Even after making 50 calls, he tackled the 51st with the same drive. On his third day, he came to me, frustrated that he hadn’t closed a deal yet - a testament to his phenomenal attitude and hunger for success. I told him: “That’s the spirit, Amin. Please don’t lose that energy ever.”

Amin kept his incredible persistence for many years to come. It would soon start to pay off and he became a rockstar seller year after year.

2011 was a busy year. It was an extremely exhausting year. All the traveling, the inflow of customers, a real team with needs and wants, real issues every day.

As co-founders, we felt we were giving everything we could every day; every little bit of energy went into our company. Only one of our shareholders wasn’t involved with the company at all: Mathias Weske, who remained a professor at HPI without any operational engagement at Signavio.

Our frustration mounted to the point that I reached out to him. I explained how we were pouring ourselves into the business day in and day out, all while pulling very little money for ourselves. For the first 12 months, we had no salaries; even after that, our income remained minimal. The only tangible asset we had was the company shares, but we felt the existing distribution didn’t fairly reflect our contributions. Like everyone else, Mathias had initially invested only €5,000 euros back in 2009. Since then, the company had been financed through customer revenue.

To resolve the tension, I proposed a solution: the company could buy back a portion of his shares, ensuring he wouldn’t surrender them empty-handed and allowing us to adjust the share distribution among the active shareholders in a way that more accurately reflected our contributions. It was a sensitive conversation, but necessary to align equity with the work and sacrifices of each founder, particularly given the financial pressures we were navigating.

Mathias wasn’t particularly enthusiastic but didn’t want to create conflict within the team either. He agreed to part with a third of his shares for €100,000 euros. This deal, for the first time, provided a valuation for Signavio: our company was now worth €1.6 million euros, based on this transaction. Two years later, we bought back an additional 2% of the company from him for another €100,000 euros, then valuing Signavio at €5 million euros already.

This reshuffling was more than a financial adjustment; it exemplified our commitment to fairness and strategic resource allocation. It allowed us to acknowledge and honor the real contributions of those who were deeply involved, balancing equity in a way that was reflective of ongoing efforts and sacrifices.

The year ended on a good note. The Software AG case settled in court and our numbers looked great once again. We finished the year with €1.1 million euros in revenue and €350 thousand euros in profit.