Jolly Web Consulting

I used to feel guilty skiing on a weekday.

Then I realized something:

If I don’t protect my life first…
my business will eat it.

I was running on founder autopilot:

Up at 5:30.
Laptop by 6.
Breaks only for food if I remembered.
And if I wasn’t improving a client’s return on spend…

…I was building automations until 1–2am.

Even on trips with friends, I wasn’t there.
I was in my head.

They finally said it out loud:

“You don’t seem happy. We only see you when we force you to come.”

That was my wake-up call.

Now I schedule the week on Sundays, but the order matters:

Life first. Work second.

Gym goes in first (IMMOVABLE).
Meals + meditation get blocked.
I set a “clocked out” notification.
I plan around powder days.
And if a volcano is calling? I’m hiking it. (Acatenango doesn’t care about my inbox.)

Date night is weekly — and I’m done before it. Period.

What changed?

I work smarter.
My relationships improved.
And my friends stopped seeing me as the stressed guy who’s “technically here.”

Turns out the best way to show up in business…

…is to stop letting business be the only place you show up.

What’s the thing you’ve been feeling guilty about that might actually make you better?

In 2023, I figured out how to live abroad for any amount of time out of two backpacks.

No checked bags. No storage unit. No "just in case" suitcase.

Two backpacks.

Beach in 90 degrees? Covered.

Skiing in 0 degree weather? Covered.

Hiking an active volcano? Also covered.

Keeping my very pale skin from turning into a lobster? That one took a sh*tload of sunscreen and some hard lessons.

Here's what nobody tells you about learning to travel light:

The hardest part isn't figuring out what to pack.

It's letting go of what you think you need.

The first trip, I brought everything. Three jackets. A "nice" outfit for every possible scenario. Backup chargers for my backup chargers.

I used maybe 40% of it.

Every trip after that, I removed something.

And every time I removed something, I felt lighter. Not just physically. Mentally.

Because every item I let go of was really a fear I was letting go of.

"What if I need this?" is just "what if I can't handle not knowing?" wearing a different outfit.

That's the thing about not knowing.

It feels like a risk. But it's actually where all the growth lives.

I learned what I actually needed to keep my work production high on the road. It wasn't more stuff. It was fewer decisions.

Same thing happens in business.

The founders who pack light — who stop clinging to every strategy, every tool, every "what if" — move faster than the ones dragging three suitcases of best practices they read about once.

Not knowing what you'll need forces you to trust that you'll figure it out.

And that trust? That's the whole skill.

Two backpacks taught me that.

I used to only work with chiropractors and mental health therapists.

I was very specific. Very intentional. Very broke.

Turns out when your entire client base is one niche and that niche doesn't have massive budgets, you run out of room fast.

I found very quickly that I needed to open up.

Now we focus on outdoor brands — products and services. But we also take on roofing companies, home services, even restaurants.

Honestly? I'm actively looking for a winery or coffee company right now.

Not because it's a strategic niche play.

Because I want a discount on good coffee.

I would build a coffee company's website at cost just to get decent beans delivered to wherever in the world I'm working from. That's not a joke. That's a real offer. If you roast coffee and need a website, DM me. We'll work something out.

But the real lesson here:

Niching down is great advice. Until it's not.

If your niche is too small, too budget-constrained, or too narrow to sustain your growth, the specificity that made you focused is the same thing that makes you stuck.

Start specific. But don't be afraid to open the aperture when the numbers tell you to.

My business didn't start growing until I stopped being precious about who I worked with.

If you don’t schedule your life first, your business will schedule it for you.

Mine scheduled this:

Up at 5:30.
Laptop by 6.
Breaks only to grab food… if I remembered.
Work until 1–2am building automations.

And I told myself that was “just the season.”

But my friends noticed something I didn’t:

Even on trips, I looked stressed.
I wasn’t present.
I was always thinking about work.

They said, “We only see you when we force you.”

That line hit harder than any KPI ever has.

So now I plan my weeks on Sundays with one rule:

Life goes on the calendar first.

Gym = immovable.
Meals + meditation = scheduled.
“Clocked out” reminder = daily.
Powder days = protected.
Volcano hikes = planned (Acatenango has become a repeat customer).
Date night = weekly, and I’m done before it.

The surprise?

My work got better.

Because boundaries force efficiency.

I’m less stressed.
My relationships improved.
My friends actually like hanging out with me.

Your business doesn’t need every ounce of you.

It needs the best version of you.

What’s one life block you’re putting on the calendar before work this week?

I own two pairs of shoes.

Wide toe box barefoot tennis shoes for daily life and pickleball. My feet scream "why is there no support" on my 46K step days. I tell them it's character building.

Tevas for hiking.

That's it. That's the whole shoe collection.

I live out of two backpacks. No checked bags. No storage unit. No "just in case" anything.

Beach in 90 degrees? Covered.
Skiing in 0 degrees? Covered.
Active volcano in Guatemala? Also covered.
Protecting my extremely pale skin? That takes a sh*tload of sunscreen and some hard lessons.

Every piece of clothing I own does at least two jobs. Long sleeve UPF shirts with collars that work for a client call or a hike. Quick-dry everything because I'm either at the gym, on a trail, or drying laundry in a hostel.

10 shirts. 2 pants. 2 pairs of shoes.

And honestly? An embarrassing number of hats. But my OutThere backpack has enough external storage to hang as many as I want, so I'm calling that a feature.

Here's what I didn't expect:

Owning less stuff made me a better business owner.

When you strip your life down to what actually matters, you start doing the same thing with your business.

Fewer tools. Fewer "just in case" strategies. Fewer meetings that could've been an email.

You stop asking "what if I need this?" and start asking "is this actually doing anything?"

Two backpacks taught me that most of what we carry — in luggage and in business — is just fear wearing a different outfit.

If your agency can't explain what they're doing in plain English, they're either confused or they're hoping you are.

I've taken over so many client accounts from agencies that buried everything behind technical jargon.

Not because the work was complex. Because keeping it confusing was profitable.

When a client can't make a simple text change on their own website, that's not a security feature. That's a leash.

When a client has to submit a ticket and wait 5 business days to swap an image, that's not a process. That's a hostage situation.

These are things that take 30 seconds in Shopify or Webflow. But when your site is built in a way that only your agency can touch? Every tiny change becomes a billable hour.

My average response time is under two hours. Every day.

And if I don't know the answer right away, I just say: "Let me look into this and I'll get back to you."

That's really all it takes.

I get new clients constantly just because their last agency couldn't respond to an email in under a week.

If your ecommerce site goes down, that should be priority one. Not "we'll get to it Monday."

The bar is on the floor. And somehow most agencies are still tripping over it.

Your agency should make things easier for you. Not more dependent on them.