A Real Business Genius

After I left the SpaceX barge project, I moved home to Alaska totally burnt out and ready for something new. I tried to start a drone service company, but it didn’t take off (pardon the pun). While I flogged that dead horse to try and make it gallop, a bunch of my former SpaceX colleagues kept calling me for advice. Many had left to work at new companies like Firefly, Astra, and Blue Origin, but still others remained within SpaceX. I helped them out as needed, and when bigger problems came along, I charged them for engineering time (the RSS demolition project was one such project, the DARPA Launch Challenge another). This kept me and my first-born fed (though sometimes the food ended up on her face instead); while also letting her enjoy a steady supply of diapers and daycare.

But I didn’t recognize the opportunity at first.

I was too obstinate. I was running a drone company, by God. In fact, I was annoyed that these rocket companies kept calling me! Didn’t they realize I was done with aerospace? Couldn’t they figure out that I was burned to a crisp? Hadn’t they heard my rants about how it was impossible to put up with the toxic culture any longer?

Then came a three-month period where I didn’t book a single drone job. Not-a-one. Nada. The only reason I made rent, put gas in the car, and pancakes on my daughter’s breakfast plate was that those “annoying” rocket companies ignored my principled protestations and kept right on calling with questions. And I kept answering them; begrudgingly at first, but ultimately, I had a light bulb moment:

If these rocket companies were willing to call a small drone company in Alaska to help them solve their problems, maybe there was a bigger opportunity at hand.

Hmm, provide services to the well-funded customers seeking me out instead of chasing non-existent drone customers? What a concept! Folks, I am a real business genius. Special shoutout to the four companies at right that kept me alive during these lean years.

There’s No Point in Going to Space if We’re All Miserable When We Get There

Recognizing the opportunity was the last easy part. Growing a team in a competitive environment while also staying centered within ourselves was hard to say the least. Our clients were always in a hurry. They yelled a lot. They were stressed. They didn’t have enough money, time, or anything else. It was a state of mind I was very familiar with from my past lives.

However, it was also one I refused to return to. Largely, we were protected from scope creep and cost overruns by putting together strong work scopes with clear boundaries and deliverables. But that didn’t stop our clients from freaking out during weekly meetings, and downloading their directionless anxiety onto us. We had to get firmer. We started telling clients that they simply couldn’t act that way. If they blamed a colleague or a boss, we asked to speak to them. If they pushed for faster results, we realistically increased the price as a dampening effect. Things came into balance. We adopted the mantra: “There’s No Point in Going to Space if We’re All Miserable When We Get There” and over time we made progress. People actually chilled out, and remembered (just a little bit) that hard things can be fun, and space is supposed to be both.

Simultaneously, we started building fittings and other ground systems, delivering them around the US from our little warehouse in Alaska.