Every few months a founder offers me shares instead of a fee. It's a generous offer, usually made in good faith, and I almost always say no.
Not because I don't believe in them. Because I want to stay useful in the moments that matter most.
The quiet cost of a stake
Equity sounds like alignment: we both win if the company wins. But a stake also changes the conversations you can have. It's harder to say "this feature is a mistake" when you're also counting what it might be worth. It's harder to say "stop, rebuild this" when you're quietly hoping the next round lands first.
Founders feel that shift even if nobody names it. The partner becomes a shareholder, and the shareholder becomes one more person to manage.
I want to be the person who can say stop, rebuild this, without doing the maths first.
What non-equity looks like
- Clear scope. We agree what's being built and what done means.
- Honest advice. My incentive is your outcome, not my position on your cap table.
- A clean exit. When you're ready to bring the work in-house, we hand it over properly.
It's a simpler deal. Simpler deals tend to survive hard weeks.
When equity does make sense
There are exceptions. If someone joins your company, carries its risk and stays for years, they should own part of it. That's a co-founder or an early employee, and it's a different relationship.
A tech partner is something else: senior help, without the strings. Knowing which one you need is half the decision.