I have done every job at Sanctuary. Mostly because, for many years, there was nobody else to do them.
I’ve done the accounting and the billing. I’ve sold the work and set the strategy behind it. I was the designer but also the programmer. I’ve managed the pay-per-click campaigns and built out the email blasts. Later on, I managed the people doing all of it, which turned out to be a job of its own, and not a small one.
For a long stretch, that wasn’t a choice. If a job existed, it was mine until someone else could take it.
Over twenty years, I’ve handed almost all of it to other people. Most of it was easy to give away because our team is better at these things than I ever could be. The most difficult job was design. I have a degree in graphic design, and I enjoy the work, and I’m good at it. I also consider good design to be a critical discipline in our business. So when I had to hand this off to someone, I was worried. But ultimately that role has now been filled by someone who is even more capable and talented than me.
I’ve thought about that last big handoff a lot, since because the idea resonates through other aspects of the business. The things that built Sanctuary were rarely the things that would carry it forward. Every one of them had worked. That was what made them hard to give up. But we’re all better because of it.
What We Used To Sell
When Sanctuary opened in 2006, there was no iPhone. Facebook had opened to anyone with an email address that September. Nobody was asking AI to do anything.
The work has changed under us more than once, and it hasn’t stopped. Every few years, something we were good at became something the market needed less of, and something new showed up that our clients needed instead. The new thing rarely fits on top of the old one. Usually something had to go to make room.
Custom software was one of those. In the early years, I built a lot of it: online training portals for large corporations, and even custom software for selling event tickets online. It was complex work and good money. More than once it carried us through a slow stretch.
That’s what made it hard to stop. Saying no to software meant giving up revenue we knew how to earn so we could put everything into being a great digital marketing company. It was the right call. We’re a stronger, more profitable company because of it.
The hard part is letting go of the revenue and making the decision. It’s hard to see in the moment. But in the end, letting go opens new doors that can take you to the next level.
The Clients Who Built Us
Clients are harder because the relationship is real.
Some of the clients who built Sanctuary were exactly right for the company we were then. Their revenue and trust are the reason we became a real company. They trusted us early, before we had much of a track record, and their partnership kept the lights on for years. I’m still incredibly grateful to all the people who took a chance on us.
But we’ve had to part ways with good clients over the years because the fit wasn’t there anymore. Some expected us to work in ways we no longer supported. Some no longer matched our values. And a few changed so much, usually because of something happening in their own business, that working with them became disorganized, demanding, and at times abusive toward our team.
Not all revenue is good revenue. Some of it costs more than it pays. It eats the attention of your best people, and sometimes it costs you one of them. Every hour it takes is an hour you can’t give to the clients and the work you’re built for now.
Most of the clients we’ve parted with did nothing wrong. They hired us for what we were. The fair thing is to tell them early, help them find a better fit, and leave on good terms. The few who crossed the line made the decision simpler. We aren’t the agency for everyone anymore, and I’ve come to see that as growth.
When The Seat Changes
People are the hardest of all, and the part I’m least sure we’ve gotten right.
Sometimes a person is exactly right for their seat when they take it. They do good work, and they care about it. Then the company grows, they evolve, or the seat changes underneath them. It needs a skill it didn’t need before, or a different kind of judgment, or simply more than that person can carry.
Other times it runs the other way. The person grows past the seat, and the company doesn’t have anything bigger to offer them yet.
Nobody did anything wrong in either case. That’s what makes it hard. There’s no mistake to point to, only a gap that gets a little wider as time goes on.
Waiting doesn’t help either side. The person feels the gap long before anyone names it, and so does everyone working next to them. The kindest version is the honest one, said early, with real help on the way to whatever comes next.
We have evolved to adopt a good system we call the three-strike rule, which is designed to support team members first when they’re struggling. Many times they stay in their seats and end up thriving. But many times the feedback and support after each strike don’t help, and they eventually have to move on. It’s usually good for them to move on to another company or position where they thrive. It’s also good for us as a company in the long run.
What Subtraction Gives Back
I still get to dabble with design in our own marketing these days, and that fulfills me. But design at Sanctuary is in better hands now than when it was in mine. That was true of almost every job I handed off.
Every subtraction in our business over the last twenty years has worked the same way. Something that had earned its place had to leave so something better could have the room. A service we were good at. Clients who believed in us early. People who did good work in a seat that changed. A role I was proud to hold. Each one was part of how we got here, and each one would have kept us there.
My lesson is that growth takes subtraction as often as it takes addition. Sooner or later you have to let go of things that worked, even the ones you’re proudest of or enjoy the most. We did all of it in the name of growth. Twenty years in, and we’re still letting go every year.