Chapter 7: Thank You for the Drink!

A chance encounter, an unlikely rival, and an idea that changed everything. This chapter tells the story of how a competitor became an accidental ally in Signavio’s global expansion.

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Transcript

“Gero, I know exactly who you are.” he said while pointing his finger straight at my face.

It was early 2012, and CeBIT was in full swing once again. Microsoft, SAP, Oracle, and Deutsche Telekom dominated the venue with their massive booths and extravagant displays. In the evenings, they spared no expense in throwing lavish parties for their clients, with live music, full buffets, and free-flowing drinks.

Signavio, by contrast, had a tiny booth, barely big enough for a single monitor and one chair. We didn’t host a party in the evening; we couldn’t even afford proper hotel rooms. Instead, we rode the train back to a friend’s apartment and crashed on air mattresses on his kitchen floor.

Our main competitor, Software AG, showcased its dominance with an impressive booth. As Germany’s second-largest software company, they drew significant attention, even from Chancellor Angela Merkel, who visited their demo showcase each year.

Angela Merkel didn’t stop by our booth. We were nobody. Software AG was the star.

However, fortune found us that evening when a former colleague from HPI, now working at Software AG, snuck us into their booth party. It felt like enemy territory, but I had a mission: While we couldn’t beat them in the marketplace, at least we could drink them into bankruptcy tonight.

True to my mission, I stationed myself at the bar and ordered one cocktail after another. 

There was a guy sitting next to me, doing the exact same thing like I was doing. He ordered one drink after the other and he didn’t talk to a single person.

I started talking to him. He seemed nice.

“Sorry, I didn’t introduce myself. My name is Gero. What is yours?” I said, about fifteen minutes into the conversation. 

“Gero, I know exactly who you are.” he said while pointing his finger straight at my face and continued “I have been tracking you very closely.” 

It turned out that he was a senior product executive at Software AG. He told me that they ran a quarterly product steering committee and that they were becoming increasingly paranoid. They had a list of companies that could potentially kill them one day and Signavio had risen to the top of their list over the last two quarters.

Interesting, I thought to myself. I always considered ourselves to be this tiny, insignificant startup from Berlin that the big guys would not even notice. We were happy to make a million in revenues. Their revenue was around a billion euros, they were a thousand times bigger!

I was intrigued and wanted to know how they perceived us and why they put us on their map. He told me he had tried our product and hated it. 

“Full of bugs and,” he paused, “a very limited feature set. I don’t understand why customers would choose your product over ours, because ours offers everything a customer could ever wish for.” He sighed and continued.

“No matter how much you hurt us, there is one thing that makes me very positive about our future. You only seem to have customers in Germany. So, if you just leave us the rest of the world, we can happily coexist.”

Note to myself: Expand internationally. What country should we go to next? That evening, I was too tired to think about it.

It was quite funny, really. Here was a senior executive from our biggest competitor, admitting we were enough of a concern to be on their radar and unwittingly giving us the exact growth strategy that would continue to worry them. All while they were picking up the tab for the drinks! 

The next morning, we gathered at our booth, and I shared the story with the team. Up until that point, I had never really considered the geographical distribution of our customer base. We had started at university, where English was our primary language, so our product was developed in English first, with German translations coming later. Trial signups for our software came from all over the world, including a significant number from India and the United States. But the executive from Software AG had been right: nearly all of our paying customers were from Germany. I asked the team why they thought that was.

Gerrit responded immediately. 

“It’s no surprise that our customers are mostly German. This is where all our sellers are based. If we want customers in other countries, we need to go there and build local sales teams.”

Until that moment, I had never really considered it. Every Signavio employee, ‘Signavians’ as they would come to be known, worked out of a single office in Berlin. The idea of setting up a second location and having a team operate there was a completely new - and somewhat daunting - concept for me.

We began to discuss where to expand next. The United Kingdom seemed like a logical choice due to the shared language and proximity to Berlin, but we didn’t have any customers there. On the other hand, we had a few customers in the United States.

An old friend from academia, Michael zur Muehlen, had opened critical doors for us in the United States. As a well-connected professor in New Jersey, he introduced us to several key organizations. His efforts paid off, including a small but meaningful subscription sale to the Department of Defense, albeit after an exhaustive series of security scans on our source code. Cisco, another notable customer on the West Coast, had already implemented a sizable installation of Signavio’s software, showcasing our growing traction abroad.

Despite these promising lead-ins, it became increasingly clear that merely selling from Berlin would not suffice for serious expansion in the U.S. 

Multiple people insisted, “Gero, there is only one place in the world where you can build a real software company and that is Silicon Valley. If you stay in Berlin, Signavio will never be more than a pet project.”

The decision to leave Berlin was not easy. I dreamed of working alongside the world’s top tech innovators by day and unwinding on the beach in the evenings, watching the sun set over the Pacific. Reality, however, quickly tempered those visions. A mountain range separated Silicon Valley from the coast, and navigating the region’s notorious traffic made beach trips a rare luxury. Instead, it became clear that this move would demand relentless work and focus.

Breaking the news to my girlfriend, Karolina, was another hurdle. I was unsure how she would react to the idea of moving to the U.S. To my surprise, she embraced the challenge as eagerly as I did, although she still had professional commitments in Warsaw and would join me after a few months. It also meant that I needed to make sure the business in Berlin was strong enough to continue operating without me.

 “It’s a big step,” Karolina said, “but I think it’s the right one. You have to try.” 

At the time, she was working full-time in finance, juggling a demanding schedule, and wasn’t in a position to move immediately. But even with her own commitments, she was clear that she would join me as soon as she could. Her encouragement meant everything to me.

There were only a few German startups that were successful in the U.S. and they recommended to me that I had to move there to make it. I thrived on challenges, so when the newly established German Silicon Valley Accelerator program opened its doors, I signed up and bought a one-way ticket to San Francisco. 

This marked a pivotal moment in our journey as a company. To make the move work, I had to delegate direct control over many day-to-day operations in Berlin. I quickly realized that if Signavio was to thrive, the Berlin team would need to function independently. This was not just a logistical challenge; it demanded a cultural shift and a new level of trust and empowerment within the organization.

Delegation was not something that came naturally to me. It is not that I have a deep need for control, it was more an organic progression that I had been deeply involved in nearly every aspect of the business. But as I spent extended periods in the U.S., I had no choice but to step back. 

This period taught me invaluable lessons about trusting my colleagues. The Berlin team achieved a level of autonomy and operational independence that I would not have thought possible a few years earlier. They managed local operations, drove product innovation, and continued building relationships with customers - all without needing me to be in the room.

This transformation had broader implications for our growth. My absence allowed the team to rise to new levels of ownership and collaboration. Each person stepped up, bringing initiative and ideas to the table. I completely moved away from a control-centric leadership model, shifting instead toward a collaborative and empowered environment that allowed for smoother innovation and more resilient company operations. Not everyone in the leadership team adopted this model as quickly as I did, but it would go on to become one of Signavio’s greatest strengths, enabling us to expand globally while maintaining a unified core culture.

That being said, the frequent travel tested my ability to lead remotely. It was a steep learning curve, managing customer engagements across time zones and trusting my Berlin colleagues to handle critical decisions. But every challenge we faced strengthened us. It was a true evolution - from a company dependent on a small group of leaders to a scalable operation where leadership was empowered at every level.

Nico and Willi focused on building the product, Gerrit handled sales, Katharina took care of marketing, and Torben managed all finance and operations. I was confident that things would continue smoothly without my constant involvement.

In the weeks leading up to my departure, I stayed involved, assisting with sales meetings and conducting customer training sessions. My schedule remained packed with travel across the country, ensuring every last detail was in place.

Then, one Wednesday evening, everything unraveled.

I was at the Munich airport, exhausted after delivering eight hours of customer training, waiting to board my flight back to Berlin. 

That’s when Torben called me.

“Gero, I am sorry, but I really need some time for myself to readjust. I cannot go on like this.” Torben’s voice on the other end of the line sounded drained, almost defeated. 

He admitted that he was completely out of energy, unable to even get out of bed in the mornings. Something needed to change, he wanted it to change, but he wasn’t sure what or how to fix it.

I was at a loss for words. I managed to tell him it was okay to take a break, but asked when he intended to do so and for how long. His answer came as another shock. 

“I’ve booked a flight for tomorrow morning and am heading to Mexico.” he said.

“For how long?!” I replied.

“I’m not sure - maybe a couple of weeks, perhaps even longer.”

The call ended and I immediately reached out to Nico, Willi, and Gerrit. Like me, they were blindsided. None of us had seen this coming, and we had no idea what it meant for the company’s future. 

Signavio was running at full speed, and our reliance on Torben was deep. He was the only one sending invoices, drafting contracts, making payments, and managing bank access. In his absence, we were suddenly cut off from essential financial operations. Torben assured me over the phone that he had wired all outstanding payments and salaries before leaving. If he returned in a few weeks, everything would hopefully run smoothly until the next payment cycle.

All the what-ifs spun in my mind. What if he didn’t come back for months? What if he refused to continue working with us? I figured my plan to go to the U.S. had just imploded. But more critically, our ability to handle even basic business operations was at risk. The realization hit hard - I felt stupid and naive. This was one of my closest friends. How did I not see this coming? How had we not prepared for something like this? I should have been capable of stepping in for Torben. Instead, I had been too focused on other responsibilities, too busy to address the imbalance that left him so overwhelmed.

When I talked with Torben about that time in Mexico, it was clear just how deeply the experience had affected him. 

“That was, you know, me really realizing it for the first time,” he told me. “Looking back, it was when I first truly faced what my role was becoming. It was a realization of where things were heading.” 

For years, Torben had been carrying a disproportionate share of the load. He took on every unglamorous but crucial Chief Financial Officer (CFO) and Chief Operations Officer (COO) responsibility - admin, finance, contracts, billing - tasks that kept the business operational but rarely got the spotlight. He was the person everyone turned to.

“I had done a million things that were completely different from each other,” Torben explained, “incorporating the Singaporean entity, fixing sales invoicing issues, last one staying and paying the bills at company parties. That’s what it means to be a high performing generalist, and it had simply burned my fuses. Very rarely in my life have I reached that point. Normally I stand as firm as a rock.” With our rapid growth, Torben’s role had no clear boundaries; it demanded constant fire-fighting, and there was never an end in sight. In Mexico, Torben needed to disconnect. 

“I did nothing but sit by the pool or go to the beach, thinking through scenarios all day,” he said. “I knew I needed to be alone. No amount of talking it out would help.” It wasn’t just about the relentless cycle of problems he’d been handling - it was the realization that the challenges that were ahead of us were in areas he disliked the most. He continued, “Everyone knew that I was the guy to go to with a problem. But when you’re the go-to, there’s a point where it stops being fulfilling; it just becomes exhausting.”

He admitted that he didn’t communicate the challenges he was going through very well. “If someone asked me what the problem was back then, I couldn’t articulate it. So I left. I planned for four to six weeks away, made sure the essentials were covered, and left. I didn’t tell anyone when I’d be back. For me, I needed that space.” Looking back, Torben wasn’t proud of how he handled it. 

“The way I orchestrated this was very bad,” he said honestly. “But for me, I had to solve it that way.” When he returned, he had made up his mind. He was ready to move forward: “Full throttle,” as he put it.

Torben is a highly capable generalist, the one willing to handle all the tasks that were critical but largely thankless. While Nico and Willi excelled at engineering, Gerrit thrived in sales, and I focused on product strategy and leadership, Torben became the one who absorbed every operational burden - the “shit” work, as we called it. And he did it all diligently and without complaint. 

The next morning after Torben called me, I went straight to the bank and began the tedious process of gaining access to our accounts. Hours passed as I struggled with their cumbersome banking software. It was a simple task, but at that moment, it felt monumental. I hoped desperately that Torben would return, that everything would go back to normal.

But deep down, I knew things had fundamentally changed.

This painful episode underscored the need for changes that extended beyond immediate fixes. We had to reevaluate how we balanced workloads, empowered others, and proactively supported each other’s well-being to ensure our long-term success.

The coming days were hell for me. My focus had always been on the product, on marketing, and on engaging with our customers. All of the back-office work - I had gladly left that to Torben. I had never dealt with contracts or handled any of the admin tasks. I hated that side of things and honestly had no idea what all it entailed.

Now, I was faced with the overwhelming reality of just how much Torben had managed. Issues piled up rapidly.

I didn’t dare reach out to him. I knew he needed to be completely unplugged and on his own to recover. Finally, after two long weeks, I received a text from him. He said he was feeling better and ready to come back to Berlin.

When he returned, the atmosphere was tense. Nico and Willi were still upset over his sudden departure, unable to let go of the frustration and stress it had caused. They felt blindsided by his absence, which had left us scrambling to keep the business functioning. Their anger wasn’t just about the work that piled up; it stemmed from a collectively felt breach of trust. It impacted an unspoken understanding that, despite our differences and challenges, we would face any storm together. 

The trip itself wasn’t the true source of the strain - it was the lack of openness that surrounded it. When he left without clear communication about his plans, it created uncertainty and raised questions among us. We had built a culture based on mutual reliance and transparency, and Torben’s silent struggle highlighted the cracks that can form when even one of us holds back.

This wasn’t the first time there had been friction. In the intensity of a growing startup, disagreements over priorities, deadlines, and decision-making were inevitable. But those past issues had always seemed manageable, surfacing and then fading away as we moved forward. Torben’s abrupt break was different. It felt, to Nico and Willi as well, like he had walked away at the very moment we needed him most, abandoning not just core tasks but the team itself.

I was conflicted. Selfishly, I hoped to avoid taking over Torben’s responsibilities. He had always managed everything so smoothly, and I could always trust that he was the most diligent person on the planet.

There we were - the five of us in a meeting room, surrounded by awkward silence. Torben apologized profusely. He understood the gravity of what had happened and knew it wasn’t a given that he could simply return as if nothing had changed. 

Torben had sought professional help from a coach and shared this with us openly. He hoped it would allow him to start over and rebuild the trust that had been damaged. 

Before his departure, Torben had been right alongside us, fighting on the frontlines every day. He was passionate, strong, and determined - always ready to go the extra mile and never backing down from a challenge. But things had changed after Mexico.

In the months following his return, it became clear that he was deliberately distancing himself. He avoided personal conflicts, choosing instead to focus on back-office tasks and operational work. It seemed to be his way of managing the stress and emotional dynamics that had built up.

“Acknowledging that I had failed my friends' trust, I really wanted to fill my renewed commitment with life by doing what I did best: getting shit done without getting lost in high-level details.” Torben continued, “And what has made all the difference for me: I came back with a directional plan for my role at Signavio for the upcoming years.”

He took it upon himself to address some of the very issues that had pushed him to the breaking point. Torben automated many of the repetitive and tedious tasks that had previously consumed him and re-evaluated how we managed our back-office operations. Up until then, we had operated under a mantra of ‘radical capital efficiency’, often opting for manual, time-consuming workarounds rather than investing in better systems. Our close call with financial disaster before signing with United Internet had left a lasting mark, driving many of these choices.

We discussed whether I should still go to California. Nico and Willi had their doubts, given the situation with Torben. I wanted to go. And honestly, I wanted to simply forget that we potentially had a problem. I was hoping for the best. Ultimately, it was Gerrit who voiced support for me to go, and with some reluctance, Nico and Willi agreed.