Introduction: The Story of Pavilion

There is a fallacy in the business world that to succeed you have to be ruthless. There is one way to get rich and have truly global impact and that is to screw the other person before they screw you. Lots of people have succeeded based on that philosophy.

I'm here to tell you there is a different way. Being a jerk, focusing on the short term, emphasizing "the art of the deal" above long-term relationships-perhaps that is one path.

But within the world, there are many paths to success. The path I will lay out for you offers the same things-wealth, impact, a legacy. But it does so in a way that will make you feel good. That will put positive energy into the universe. That will uplift you and those around you.

And to begin your journey, you don't need a wild stroke of luck. You don't need a trust fund. And you don't need to be a perennially upbeat happy person oblivious to the reality of the world around you. In fact, I'm pretty much the opposite of that. I'm grumpy. I'm moody.

But the lessons I articulate in this book are about a deeper sense of compassion and kindness. They are not about your mood. They are about a way of behaving in the world. A way that aligns you with positivity.

Some of it may seem hokey. And some of it may seem naive. There's a certain power and sense of superiority in cynicism. That's certainly true. It's up to you how you choose to lead your life. And this is just one way. But it's a way that I've found to work.

If you take that leap with me and go with me on this journey, I'm confident you'll come out on the other side with a deeper connection to success. We'll work through some of the challenges and objections you might naturally raise, and I'll share with you deeply personal information about my decades-long struggles with the right sense of self, with depression, and with my near perpetual frustration with my station and place in life and with my career.

But, on the other side of all of that, you'll also discover what I've learned to truly change my life. To finally discover happiness. To build the tools I use almost every day to nurture that happiness. And to work through how that happiness and peace has transcended my professional life and impacted my life at home with my wife and my personal relationships.

This is a book about the company I started now called Pavilion, originally called Revenue Collective. I did not intend to start a big company. I only intended to help my friends find jobs and to create a group of people committed to supporting each other. But somehow, years later that company is worth more than $200 million and doubling while barely burning any capital.

This is also a book about how I saved my marriage, discovered true happiness for the first time in my life, and achieved almost everything I'd dreamed, and more, since I started working back in 1999.

Prior to starting Pavilion, I'd been a vice president of sales at venture-capital backed companies in New York City beginning in 2003 when I started at Gerson Lehrman Group. I'd risen up through the ranks quickly at GLG, which became a big company while I was there.

I left in 2010 to set out on my journey of becoming a C-level executive. I'd always harbored big dreams and ambitions, but the next eight years were a series of false starts and frustrations that created a terrifying sense of repetition. That I wasn't making actual progress. That I wouldn't become wealthy and that I wouldn't realize the sense of potential I felt inside myself and have felt since I was a young child.

Beginning in 2014, I started bringing my friends together for dinner every quarter in New York. These were other people in similar situations. People in their thirties and forties working at high-growth companies and struggling to see the light at the end of the rainbow, struggling to see how all the toil and hard work would ultimately end in some kind of big payday, some kind of recognition.

So we started having dinner together every quarter. Then we started emailing each other with questions about work, how we had approached different challenges and obstacles, how we'd solved different problems. What email subject lines were working. What the ratio of salespeople to sales managers was and how to motivate and retain great talent and develop them.

These were all questions that were too real and too recent to have studied in a book and the book would have been out of date if it had offered answers anyway.

From those email threads and those dinners, something began to emerge and take hold. Now, a dinner club is not the hardest thing in the world to copy. And an email distribution is not a hard thing to copy either.

I never thought what we were doing could be a big business because I thought, "There must be a sales executive meetup in every city in the world. I don't know why there doesn't seem to be one in New York, but New York is a big place and I'll just do the one in New York."

My thought process was intentionally modest. I didn't give myself permission to think what I was working on was a venture-scale business-something that could become a unicorn or decacorn or change thousands or tens of thousands or hundreds of thousands of people's lives. I just thought I enjoyed helping people. It gave me a sense of purpose and accomplishment. It filled me up with a sense of satisfaction.

In fact, when I first left my last full-time job to work on Pavilion full-time in December of 2018, I only hoped I could get it to 2,000 paying Members.

Now, I'm writing these words in 2022. What started off as a dinner club in New York with me and a few of my friends has become a global community of over 10,000. In April of 2021, just a few years after launching, we received a $25 million investment from Elephant Ventures, valuing the company at north of $100 million and we've grown threefold since that investment. Not only that, but in the course of that investment, I was able to sell some of my ownership in Pavilion and achieve actual wealth-a goal that had seemed forever beyond my grasp as I came of age in New York beginning in 2003.

This book is that story of the change in me that occurred over the past five years, beginning in 2017. A change that proved transformational and helped me build a global company at scale, impact the lives of thousands, and achieve nearly all of my professional goals.

I had sensed the possibilities of the ideas espoused in this book for a long time. In fact, I'd practiced them subconsciously and unintentionally. But it was beginning in 2017 that I was finally able to start getting a sense of how to put these principles into some kind of framework.

I often joke that so many business books are really just articles turned into books to convey gravity or spurious sincerity. And perhaps I'm guilty of that over the next 200 pages. But the framework is indeed simple and straight-forward.

That framework is also not new. It's been promulgated by everyone from Oprah to Tony Robbins to Adam Grant to Dan Pink and on and on.

Condensed into its essence it is simple and straight-forward:

Look to help others before you help yourself. Do as much as you can for other people and ask nothing in return. Try as hard as you can to stop keeping score. Play a long big game instead of a short small game. Build relationships not transactions. And try to use the power of love, optimism, and gratitude to power as much of your decision making as possible.

It's that simple. It's not easy. But it's simple.

The point of the book is that doing these things-embracing kindness, consideration, reciprocity, and a sense of spirituality powered by love is not just something you do because it makes you feel good. Of course, it does make you feel good.

But these are practices you can embrace not just to feel good but to achieve the things you want to achieve in your professional life. You can use these practices to get rich and make a lot of money. You can use these practices to get a promotion. You can use these practices to rise to the top of your profession.

There is an old adage: Nice guys finish last.

That adage is wrong. It's wrong not just because it conjures up some notion that "guys" are the only people that participate in business. Of course that's false. But it's wrong too because at its essence it implies that business is zero-sum, that the only way for you to win is for someone else to lose. That the world is implicitly dog eat dog.

I don't believe that, and in the times when I have believed that nothing has gone right for me.

My life changed when I realized that the beauty of regulated capitalism is that in order to achieve the things you want you have to build things other people want. At its essence, it is a deeply humane system and the most efficient allocator of resources in human history. (Side note: Let's make sure we emphasize I am using the word "regulated." I am aware that unfettered capitalism has inherent flaws baked into it. But that's a story for another book.)

My life changed when I realized that helping other people without asking for anything in return, that playing a game so long I didn't have to keep track of it, that helping for helping's sake, was itself a competitive advantage. Because so few people do it. So few...