Chapter 16: Hitting the Breaks

Sometimes, the best way forward is to pause. This chapter takes you inside the moments of reflection and reinvention that shaped Signavio’s next big leap.

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“Gero’s value is his ability to learn and grow as a CEO. The most significant risk, however, is that he struggles to transition from ‘peace-time CEO’ to ‘war-time CEO.’”

Indeed, it was peace-time at Signavio. Georgina’s assessment couldn’t have been more timely - as if she could predict what was about to come.

After the investment by Apax, we had thrown open the floodgates. We instructed everyone to hire and expand as fast as possible. We had ambitious plans for 2020 and wanted to make a major leap toward IPO readiness.

Collaboration with Mark and Dan, our new investors, was both inspiring and intense. Every conversation focused on scaling the company: how to evolve our products, refine our Go-To-Market strategies, and grow the organization to the next level. It was an exhilarating period of growth and strategic planning.

As part of his post-investment checklist, Mark suggested a leadership development exercise.

Were we as effective as we could be? How could we steer the company even more effectively? And just as importantly: Did we have the right people in key leadership positions? We had never conducted a structured assessment like this before, and it piqued my interest.

There were still two different worlds within our leadership team. Nico, Willi, and I, as the founders, had limited experience in running a large organization - Signavio was essentially our first real job. Meanwhile, Mark Holenstein, Daniel Rosenthal, and Ron Agam were seasoned professionals who had “been there, done that” several times over and achieved considerable success.

Apax introduced us to Georgina Cavaliere. I didn’t realize it back then, but she would change my life.

I had never been through a leadership assessment and was curious to experience the process. Georgina led us through extensive online surveys, 360-degree feedback, and in-depth individual sessions for every leader on the team.

With Georgina, I revisited all the major life events that had shaped me - what inspired me, challenged me, and what I feared, from childhood up until now.

This was completely new territory. I’d never had a coach or psychologist work with me before. Sitting with Georgina felt like lying on a “red sofa.”

She benchmarked me against other CEOs across different dimensions, identifying where I excelled and where I fell short. For the first time, I could truly understand what drives me - and what drives me nuts. 

In terms of motivation, two themes came out loud and clear. The first was curiosity - my eagerness to learn. Compared to other CEOs, my scores were off the charts. Georgina put it best: “Gero, your ability to draw insight from everyone you speak to is what sets you apart. It’s not just about learning; it’s about taking those learnings and applying them for impact.”

Yes, I like reading books whenever I have the time, but even more than that, I thrive on experiencing new situations. I love being in the middle of the storm, navigating challenges, and making sense of what’s happening.

New situations make me uncomfortable, just like most people. But pushing through to the other side, understanding the mechanics, drivers, and constraints along the way, makes me the happiest person on the planet. The flip side is that I hate doing the same thing more than once.

The second theme was “winning together.” Achieving success is great, but it only feels truly rewarding when I do it as part of a team.

I’d rather fail as a team than win alone.

This also explains why I hated my job as a researcher but loved my time at McKinsey. At McKinsey, I could learn every day and accomplish great things as part of a collaborative effort. As a researcher, I was often isolated, working alone with my thoughts and findings.

On the weaknesses side, my reluctance to organize and operate in a structured manner was a real challenge for the company. I was a lousy project manager and frequently overlooked important details. I was always drawn to the bigger picture, constantly generating new and often wild ideas. But when it came time to devise a concrete plan to make those ideas happen, I would lose interest and move on, leaving others to figure out the details. Following a plan just felt boring to me.

What a contradiction: We sold process management software and championed the need for structure and careful planning, yet I, personally, struggled with exactly that.

When I reflect on the four archetypes of a founding team that I mentioned at the start of this book, I see myself as more of a Gyro Gearloose - a creative inventor - and a touch of James Bond, tackling challenges with bold moves. I was definitely not the Albert Einstein type who meticulously analyzes every potential failure point.

Interestingly, I didn’t show any need for power or control, which is quite unlike many CEOs who often derive energy from wielding power and maintaining control. For me, it was always about the journey, learning, and growing with the people around me.

I realized I had to make a choice. Either I would actively work on my weaknesses and commit to improving or I would have to create a workaround that would enable me to be more effective for the company.

I am a notoriously lazy person, so I chose the second option, the workaround. I did some research on how other companies tackled similar challenges and quickly created the position of a “Chief of Staff.”

Giuseppe Cristiano, who had been serving as our Head of Internal IT previously, was the perfect fit for this new role. When he stepped into his new position, my life instantly became easier, and we became more effective as a team. He helped manage the operational chaos, provided much-needed structure, and ensured things didn’t fall through the cracks. It was a game-changer for me and the company.

The second item on my list was to become more assertive, to communicate “non-negotiables” more clearly, and to take a stronger stand on important matters. I had a tendency to be too hands-off, granting too much autonomy and avoiding hard decisions. Saying no - earlier, louder, and more often - did not come naturally to me, but it was essential for keeping up with the crazy pace that we had set. It also wasn’t about saying no to everything, it came with a careful balance of understanding the right opportunities in the multitudes so we did not limit our innovation. 

Unfortunately, I couldn’t delegate this item to anyone and I had to really force myself to improve. From then on, I made a conscious effort to monitor my own behavior and language, constantly questioning whether I was being assertive enough. Now, years later, I’d like to think I’ve made some progress. But I’d be the first to admit it’s still not my strongest suit.

The last item on my list was to introduce greater rigor in planning and alignment across the company. This was critical to ensure everyone was on the same page as we moved forward with ambitious goals. 

Looking for inspiration on how to address this challenge, my investors introduced me to the founder of Classpass. His company was experiencing rapid growth, too, and I was deeply impressed by how relaxed he seemed amid the chaos. When I first called him, he was working from his cabin on Lake Tahoe, enjoying his job and his life at the same time.

He had established different time horizons or “bio rhythms” for his company, with different accountability and governance for each horizon. The 3-5 year strategy was discussed once a year and translated into an annual action plan. He, as CEO, was responsible for this and oversaw the exercise. Then, members of his leadership team were tasked with making the annual goals happen and readjusting the course on a quarterly basis, if needed. The CEO would check in on progress and assist with removing any obstacles that arose. The next level of managers owned and drove the quarterly cadence.

Resilience through reflection became an important component of this approach for me. I adopted strategies like the "333 Rule," where I would pause to assess the lasting impact of any challenge by asking myself, “Will this matter in three hours, three weeks, or three years?” If it didn’t matter in three years, you could relax. If it didn’t matter in three weeks, no urgency was required. This mindset shift helped me to distinguish critical issues from trivial setbacks, allowing me to foster greater mental resilience. By focusing on what truly mattered within these defined horizons, I could lead more effectively and respond to adversity with a clear sense of purpose.

My new chairman, Jeff Barnett, also shared valuable insights from his experience at Salesforce. They used a framework called V2MOM - vision, values, methods, obstacles, and measures - which proved to be highly scalable for managing both annual and quarterly time frames at Signavio.

What fascinated me about V2MOM was how it transcended traditional OKRs (Objectives and Key Results). By talking about vision and values at every level of the company, it inspired a deeper connection to our mission, going beyond simple goal-setting. The “obstacles” piece added a layer of humbleness and transparency, acknowledging the challenges and dependencies people faced in achieving their goals.

Ron, our CPO, had a phenomenal grasp on the 3-5 year time horizon and had already introduced a comprehensive product strategy cycle the year prior. He masterfully balanced a present-forward focus - what we can achieve now - with future-back vision, anchoring our long-term goals.

Taking all of these elements into account, we decided to implement a company-wide strategy cycle in Q3 of every year. This process would cover our 3-5 year strategy, determine the annual work plan for the upcoming year, and derive our budget proposal.

It was incredible to witness how reflecting on our personal challenges and addressing them as a team led to substantial evolution within the company. Working with Georgina had unlocked an entirely new dimension of growth in our evolution. 

My colleagues had many “ah-ha!” moments as well. They confronted their own shortcomings and faced the same choice like I did: work on them or find workarounds. Ignoring issues was no longer an option - the minimum expectation was to deliberately accept a weakness and be honest about it.

The exercise was especially impactful for Nico. In fact, just before the Christmas holidays, he shared with me that he had decided to leave Signavio. Georgina’s assessment a few weeks later confirmed his suspicion: he wasn’t a good fit for the role of co-CTO anymore, and remaining in that position would not serve the company well.

"I had the most excitement and joy when I could focus deeply on details and solve complex problems one at a time. Now, working on countless short-term issues on the one hand and the long-term strategic vision of Signavio on the other is draining my energy. And I know that I can't fulfill the role as Co-CTO in the best possible way," Nico told me. 

We agreed that he would hand over his responsibilities over the coming months.

Willi now became the sole CTO of Signavio. I liked this new arrangement a lot. Previously, Nico and Willi often reinforced each other's perspectives and beliefs, creating an echo chamber that sometimes lacked outside inspiration. Nico and Willi had followed nearly identical paths, beginning as close friends during their studies at HPI and sharing similar professional experiences along the way. They knew the same people and took input from the same sources.

With Willi now serving as the CTO and Ron as the CPO, we had what felt like a true "power couple" driving Signavio’s product vision and development. This combination brought together the perspective of a dedicated founder with that of an experienced industry professional. Their skills and mindsets complemented each other beautifully. 

Nico’s departure also provided an opportunity to identify some of our most promising colleagues and reshape Willi’s engineering leadership team, creating a refreshed and focused dynamic.

Nico’s departure was marked by a remarkable act of generosity: he chose to gift a significant number of his shares - worth millions of euros - to colleagues who were critical to Signavio’s future success. It was an incredibly selfless gesture that underscored his commitment to the company's ongoing journey.

The quarterly engineering planning session in Q1 served as Nico’s official farewell event. We all vowed to throw him a big party at the upcoming Code Camp that summer. In the meantime, he planned to travel the world for a while, embracing new adventures.

In February, I took a short break with my family and went skiing in the Alps for the first time. I loved it so much that I proposed to my leadership team that we could go on a similar trip together, to combine a little bit of fun with first steps on our cross-company alignment journey.

Mark, being from Switzerland, knew all of the ski resorts well and organized a trip to Andermatt for an extended weekend in early March.

We structured the trip to be 70% fun and 30% work - my "magic formula" for effective offsites. It turned out to be highly productive. On the lifts heading up the slopes, we discussed topics like regional sales coverage and Go-To-Market motions. Over lunch product positioning and partner enablement. Later, we discussed hiring strategy over Swiss fondue and reviewed financial strategies during a fine-dining experience at the Chedi.

All the others were great skiers. I was the only newbie and I crashed a couple of times. One fall was particularly bad - I twisted my knee severely. The mountain rescue team had to take me down to the hospital, and my skiing adventure was officially over. The rest of the team continued without me.

While waiting for the doctor, I read news reports about how Covid-19 was rapidly spreading in other ski resorts. Apres-ski gatherings in Ischgl had already become infamous as major super-spreader events across Europe. On the flight back, I grew nervous every time someone nearby coughed.

In the days following our trip to Switzerland, Covid began dominating the news. Questions loomed: Should we send our people home? Cancel customer meetings?

Fortunately, we were in a relatively good position. All of our employees used laptops, our signature processes were fully digitalized, and our core systems were cloud-based. With our global presence, working over Zoom was already routine for us. Most of the team didn’t require physical office access.

On a Thursday, we decided to do a test run and asked everyone to work from home the following day. Over the weekend, the news worsened and several countries announced lockdowns starting Monday.

What started as a trial run for just one day, resulted in working fully remotely for months. Our offices stayed closed. 

Our investors began tracking our sales pipeline on a daily basis. Nobody knew how customers would react to the rapidly unfolding situation with Covid. It was the end of the quarter, and we were on edge, anxious to see how it would all play out.

We heard horror stories from other companies. Those with a footprint in China were grappling with severe supply chain disruptions and production shortages. The travel and transportation sectors were hit particularly hard, with revenues evaporating almost overnight. Entire fleets of airplanes grounded showed in the news.

On the other hand, some companies experienced sudden and explosive growth. Video conferencing platforms and telecommunications companies boomed as remote work became the norm. Demand for IT equipment surged, food delivery services saw unprecedented orders, premium whisky sales rose, and online gaming platforms gained new users.

We didn’t know if we would benefit from the new reality or face significant losses. Digital transformation became a hot topic, but many of our customers were suddenly cautious about spending money. It was an uncertain, unpredictable moment.

Together with our investors, we began replanning the year. Many of our customer contracts were annual, which gave us hope that most clients would not suddenly rip our software out. But we also had customers who wanted to renegotiate their contracts, asking for a smaller price for the same amount of licenses. This heightened the risk around our existing customer base. When it came to new license sales, we were completely unsure of what to expect.

In our scenario modeling, we planned for a range of outcomes. Our best-case scenario maintained 70% growth as outlined in our original plan. The moderate growth case assumed 25% growth, the bad case scenario projected zero growth and the meltdown scenario a decline by 40%. The best case seemed impossible, so did the meltdown scenario. We hoped for the moderate growth case but needed to survive the bad case as well.

Customers became harder to reach, as many organizations struggled with the move to home office. Our sales teams pushed hard, doing everything they could to get deals across the finish line despite these challenges.

In the end, Q1 results came in okay. Contract renewals proceeded without major disruption, bringing a small measure of relief amid all the uncertainty.

We decided to plan the year based on the mid-case scenario, which meant adjusting the company’s cost base accordingly. The majority of our costs were tied to salaries, and we had been aggressively hiring over the previous months to support our ambitious growth targets.

With the revised revenue projections, our current team was out of proportion to the new plans. The situation was further complicated by the uncertainty of how long this economic drought would last. The most optimistic predictions suggested a 6 to 9-month recovery period, while more cautious estimates extended up to three years.

Running a growth business involves hiring ahead of anticipated demand. The challenge lies in determining how much growth to forecast and how much to invest upfront.

Fortunately, we still had a strong cash position from our recent fundraising. At the same time, we were burning money every month and we couldn’t count on doing another fundraise in this environment any time soon.

Our calculations showed that we needed to reduce personnel costs by at least 20% to survive for the next 24 months under the mid-case scenario.

Now came the difficult question: Where would we find that money?

The first, easiest, and most obvious cut was founder salaries. There was no way we would impose any measures without starting with ourselves. However, with over 400 people on the team, the impact of this reduction was limited.

The second measure was a total hiring freeze. We would add no new people for the foreseeable future.

Next on the list were the new colleagues who had already signed contracts but had not yet started. This decision was deeply challenging and sparked lengthy debates. Canceling these contracts could damage our reputation as an employer, particularly since these individuals had already left their previous jobs to join us. On the other hand, they were not yet part of the team, so we felt a lesser emotional obligation compared to those already on board. In the end, we made the tough call to cancel all pending contracts.

These were drastic measures, but sadly, they still weren’t enough. We had to lower our cost base even more significantly.

We had to fire Signavians. There was no way around it.

First, we built a capacity plan for each area of the business, carefully “right-sizing” the organization. We didn’t want to create a dysfunctional company but rather be very deliberate about where to keep and where to reduce. In a few areas, we found that reducing positions to part-time was a good option. In most cases, we simply didn’t need as many people for the foreseeable future.

Next, we focused on who within these areas would have to leave. Contractually, the simplest solution would have been to let go of people still in their probation period or employees based in countries with fewer labor protections, such as the United States. However, most of our staff were based in countries with strict labor laws, primarily Germany, where dismissing someone is far more complicated.

We decided to take the hard route. This reduction would be used as an opportunity to focus on performance, regardless of labor protections or tenure. For most areas, we had a good grasp of performance levels. We simply had not been very strict with consequences for lower performance previously.

We involved more managers into the discussion to help us build the list of names of people who would have to go. In some departments, we had to make even deeper cuts, which meant including colleagues we would fight to keep in more stable times. It was an agonizing process for everyone involved.

We didn’t make these decisions lightly. Every evening, we met virtually, starting at 7pm and often continuing late into the night, painstakingly weighing all our options.

Poor Giuseppe. I had just recently hired him as Chief of Staff, and now his first major project was to help me shift the company from hyper-growth mode to cost-cutting mode. It was a tough initiation for both of us.

We tried every angle to navigate the financial challenges. Government subsidies were available for companies affected by the lockdown. The tricky part? Unlike many other businesses, we were still operating at full speed and hadn’t seen a decline in revenue - our challenge was rooted in drastically reduced growth expectations for the months ahead, not an immediate downturn.

Despite the difficult cost-cutting exercise, there was a positive side. It presented an opportunity to pursue something I’d wanted for a long time: making every employee a shareholder.

Up until now, Summit had been highly restrictive about who could participate in our options program. While early employees had received options, later grants were limited to C-level executives and regional sales heads.

Apax, however, was more open-minded. After their investment, I began working on a new option plan that, while still reserved for certain roles and seniority levels, would allow roughly 25% of our employees to participate.

Now, I had a chance to go even further. I crafted a salary-to-shares conversion program, allowing every employee at Signavio to obtain virtual shares. Through this program, employees could reduce their base salary by up to 50% for 12 months in exchange for virtual shares of Signavio.

The timing was right to negotiate an attractive enterprise valuation as the basis for conversion, reflecting a roughly 30% discount compared to the ARR multiple Apax had paid. I wasn’t sure what level of participation to expect, but I hoped the idea that every euro converted would directly reduce the number of colleagues we had to let go would inspire more people to join. 

To gauge interest, I spoke with a few employees about the program. Many were eager to help ensure the company’s survival by accepting a temporary salary cut. However, the concept of shares was unfamiliar to some, and they preferred giving a loan with a fixed interest rate instead. I thought that was a flawed approach given the discounted deal we had negotiated with our investors. If we survived, the return on shares would far exceed any interest rate imaginable; if we didn’t, a loan wouldn’t have been secure anyway.

April 3 was the big day. In an All Hands call, we presented everything at once: our reduced growth projections, the cost-cutting measures, the founder salary cuts, the hiring freeze, the cancellation of new hires who hadn’t yet started, selected offers for part-time work, the salary-to-shares conversion program, and the number of positions that would be reduced in the coming weeks. 

It was, of course, a major blow for the team. And to make matters worse, we had to do it all virtually through Zoom - a difficult, impersonal way to deliver such emotional news.

On the positive side, we promised our people that this would be a one-time cut. We would reduce deeply now, but then commit to managing the next 18-24 months without any further reductions. This was it. This was the full package. Once again, we needed everyone’s help and trust to make it work.

To maintain transparency and engagement, we held weekly All Hands calls to update everyone on how things were progressing. Nearly every employee tuned in, and participation was extremely high.

Yes, this was a shock for the company. Up until this point, we had been riding on a wave of growth and success. Now, for the first time, we faced significant challenges. We had to switch from peace-time to war-time operations in the blink of an eye.

The salary-to-shares conversion program was my baby and I enjoyed running all the info sessions. For many, it was the first time learning the intricacies of startup equity: how shares worked, what our deals with investors entailed, how enterprise valuations were determined, how we compared to other startups, and the various paths to monetizing shares in the future.

Given that most people had never owned shares or options in their companies, there was understandable hesitation. Fortunately, our senior managers stepped up and led by example, sharing the significant conversions they were planning to make. Their commitment reassured and inspired their teams.

We promised everyone that within two weeks, we would inform those affected by the reductions. Some countries, like the U.S., were relatively straightforward; we could let go of people as needed. Despite the legal simplicity, we still made sure to have personal conversations with everyone affected, discussing implications, timelines, and transition plans in detail.

“I have been let go multiple times already. But never in my life have I been fired more gracefully,” one of the colleagues said to me. His kind words didn’t make the process any easier - I still felt terrible about having to let people go. Altogether, we needed to reduce the team by almost 10%.

Germany, however, posed a different challenge due to its labor laws. We couldn’t simply dismiss people at will. Instead, we approached each person on our list individually, explained our decision, and offered a severance package. The packages were slightly above market standards - not extravagant, but fair - given our need to preserve cash.

Some people took the news well; others were devastated and broke down in tears.

Many knew that accepting the package meant entering a bleak job market, with countless companies shedding employees and very few openings available.

Some negotiated their exit terms hard. But in the end, everyone we approached accepted the package and left soon after.

The response to the salary-to-shares conversion program was an overwhelmingly positive surprise. More than 75% of the team committed a portion of their salaries, with an average contribution of roughly 15%. To our amazement, quite a few chose to commit the maximum of 50% of their salary.

Once it was clear that enough people were participating in the program, we were able to share a message of relief with the team: no one else would be approached for cuts. 

It was a much-needed moment of reassurance in a time of immense uncertainty.

We also acted quickly to reduce our real estate capacity. In Berlin, we occupied three buildings and we canceled the lease for the two smaller ones. In cities where we rented shared office spaces, we immediately canceled the contracts as well.

With everyone now working remotely, we estimated that we would remain this way for many months to come.

The only time I returned to the office was to pick up a desk and an office chair. Up until then, both Karolina and I had worked entirely from our respective offices in the city, but now we had to adjust to a new reality of working 100% from home. Our guest room became my makeshift office, while Karolina set up her workspace in our bedroom. At night, I’d often notice the standby lights of her devices glowing in the darkness.

Our two kids, Jakub and Adam, were at home as well since all schools had closed. As parents, we were suddenly tasked with homeschooling on top of our demanding workloads. The lockdown intensified our work obligations, leaving us with barely enough energy to handle even the basics of childcare.

The lockdown also meant that the kids couldn’t leave our garden and play with their friends. All playgrounds were closed, sports activities shut down, nothing. Now, they were at home with us all the time. On most days, I worked 12 to 14 hours and had little energy left to look after the kids or to do anything with them.

At least we had a garden. Many folks living in apartments in the city were gradually going crazy as they were locked up within their four walls. The only occasion to leave the house was to go grocery shopping. It was a tough time for many of us.

Within Signavio, most employees - especially those without children - worked long hours. For many, work became a welcome distraction and a sense of purpose during an otherwise isolating and stressful period.

During this time at Signavio, it became difficult for me to truly gauge how people were feeling. We introduced regular employee sentiment tracking, but it wasn’t the same as casual face-to-face conversations in the office hallways or over lunch. I felt oddly detached from the company for the first time. It wasn’t that I worked any less - in fact, I was putting in even longer hours - but everything felt distant, unnatural, and disconnected.

In the summer, we typically organized our annual Code Camp, a highlight for many Signavians. But this year, with the ongoing pandemic, an in-person gathering was out of the question. Instead, we hosted a virtual version. Many colleagues poured their hearts into making it special, including organizing virtual concerts, games, and various activities.

Despite their efforts, I was still in a dark place. To make matters worse, the week of the virtual Code Camp coincided with the funeral of Karolina’s only aunt. They had been incredibly close, and her aunt’s passing, following a short battle with aggressive cancer, was devastating. With lockdowns and closed borders, we hadn’t been able to see her nor the rest of our Polish family for months. Even the funeral was constrained by severe Covid restrictions.

During Code Camp, when participants were invited to contribute songs to a playlist, I submitted "Zombie." It was exactly how I felt at the time - detached, exhausted, and numb.

In hindsight, I’m glad that people could only see me virtually. Usually, I’m known for being upbeat and bringing positive energy to the team, but at that point, I was simply not myself.

Amidst all this, Q2 brought an unexpected positive turn for our business. While we were behind our original growth targets, we exceeded the moderate growth case projections we had prepared for.

Our investors continued to be hesitant but we convinced them that we shouldn’t waste our potential and that this was the time to attack again. After our July board meeting, we went back to growth mode and started hiring again.

Almost overnight, the world seemed brighter. Restrictions eased, and people began venturing out again. In Berlin, take-away cocktail shacks popped up all over the city, signaling a return to life and energy.

Also in the startup world, the initial shock of the early Covid months was suddenly gone and people came back optimistic about the future. Q2 had proven that most digital businesses actually didn’t die and that startups were much better prepared for what was now called the “new normal”.

Supply chains were still disrupted, and many sectors had yet to recover, but hope was palpable. Covid, for all its devastation, had accelerated change and favored those brave, adaptive companies that could pivot and adjust rapidly to the evolving world.

With this renewed optimism, new forms of financing emerged on the horizon. Suddenly, banks began extending loans to startups - a shift that was previously unthinkable. Silicon Valley Bank - the same one that would later face its own collapse - aggressively entered the market with attractive, low-interest loans aimed specifically at enterprise software companies. We had a very interesting offer from them on the table.

At the same time, special purpose acquisition companies (SPACs) started making waves. They offered startups a quicker and more streamlined path to the public markets compared to traditional IPOs. Essentially, a SPAC is a publicly traded shell company that raises capital through an IPO and later acquires a stake in a private startup, effectively making it publicly listed overnight.

These opportunities were certainly intriguing and led to many discussions. Summit, eager to find favorable exits, was particularly interested in exploring any option that could facilitate a profitable share sale.

However, there was a major constraint: we were still too small to become a public company on our own. This meant that in order to reach the minimum revenue size required for the public markets, we would have needed to merge with another company first - a step we were unwilling to take. Additionally, we didn’t feel any urgency to rush into such arrangements.

Our products were gaining traction, and the process mining market was experiencing significant growth. Our forecasts indicated that we would close the year with around €55 million euros in ARR, reflecting roughly 40% growth. Due to the cost-cutting measures we had implemented earlier, we were also operating more cost-efficiently than anticipated. 

Then, in September of 2020, I received a text message from an old friend who was now at SAP.