I became an Excel cell after the exit.

2025.03.01.

Below is the text of the interview published in the December 2024 issue of Growth Magazine. Many thanks to Beatrix Gosztola and her team for the opportunity to be featured and for allowing us to republish the text.

An exit can often seem like the final destination in an entrepreneur's journey—a milestone that crowns everything, symbolizing professional recognition, freedom, and financial security. But what happens when the long-awaited success does not bring what we had hoped for? Vendler Balázs, who embarked on a deep self-exploration after successfully selling his company, shares exactly this experience. A month ago, we invited him to our office to personally recount the inner journey that company building, exit, and the period that followed had brought him.

We first got to know Balázs through his LinkedIn posts, where we were already impressed by the openness with which he wrote about the emotional rollercoaster behind professional success. During the interview, it became clear that his story is not only inspiring but also full of valuable lessons—offering insight into the struggles and reinvention of an entrepreneurial soul. This is not the first exit story we've featured, but Balázs takes us somewhere entirely different: to the human side of entrepreneurship, where success, failure, and new beginnings are not black and white but filled with countless shades of experience. // Beatrix Gosztola, Editor-in-Chief – Growth Magazine

How did the startup begin, and what was your main motivation during its development?

Hm… It was quite a long process. Back in 2005, I had a small marketing company that had been operating for six years already. We had built a great team, working on both offline and online projects, and even had in-house developers, which allowed us to handle projects flexibly. That year, we were invited to take part in a tender we really wanted to win—I felt like this could be our big breakthrough. The task was to design a recruitment campaign, and instead of using traditional advertising platforms, we proposed creating an online game. My goal was that if we won, our client would spend that—at the time, for us, incredibly large—budget with us rather than media owners. We won, and that marked the beginning of our development of corporate goal-driven games.

The next seven years were filled with professional success, but they didn’t bring in much money. My marketing company grew, we gained a business angel investor, and we restructured the company—splitting it into a marketing and an IT company. This was during the 2008 financial crisis, a period full of tension, which eventually led to me burning out completely by 2012. I was exhausted. I simply hated going to my own company. I remember sitting alone in my office, realizing that I had to change something—I couldn’t go on like this. I was working 10–12 hours a day, responsible for all sales, and managing a team of over 20 people, which meant our costs were sky-high. Stress became my everyday reality. The work I once loved no longer brought me any joy.

I had to rethink why I was running my business in the first place: for freedom, financial security, and recognition—to prove that I was good, smart, and successful. As I reflected on the past years, I realized that corporate gaming could provide all of this. Or rather, I felt that it could provide all of this. It seemed like a way to break free from the limitations of being based outside a major city, to expand internationally, and to showcase what we were truly capable of. The emerging concept of gamification seemed like a perfect opportunity, so I bought out my investor and started building Games for Business.

What were the biggest challenges you faced during the building phase, and how did you overcome them?

The biggest question was whether we were even capable of doing it. Did we truly know what we wanted to create? Did I know exactly where I wanted to go and what my ultimate goal was? I was clear on my desires—freedom, security, recognition—but how could my company provide these for me? It took me a good three years to find my answer, but in 2013, we started building. We went everywhere we could to give talks on the topic, began publishing in English, and participated in international competitions—all for several years without any major success. But in 2015, something unexpected happened: an article was published about one of our projects in the U.S. edition of Forbes, then in the Hungarian edition, and soon, more and more international media outlets started featuring us.

And yet, something still wasn’t right. Something wasn’t working—we still weren’t making money, and clients weren’t coming in as I had hoped. Things were still not in place. Looking back now, nearly ten years later, I’d say I still didn’t fully know what I wanted to do. By 2015, I had to admit that something was off. My marketing company’s team was falling apart because my focus was entirely on Games for Business, and I wasn’t paying much attention to the agency itself. People started quitting one after another. I had a lot of conversations with people—something I’m grateful for. Entrepreneurs from Pécs, clients from Budapest, CEOs of competitor companies… Through these discussions, I came to realize that we couldn’t run two completely different businesses under one organization. A marketing agency executes projects, while Games for Business was about developing a product. Two entirely different mindsets, two fundamentally different approaches.

I had to ask myself: was I willing to let go of my agency? Could I walk away from the business that provided my income, funded G4B’s product development, and supported my family? Could I give up my financial security and my past for the future I envisioned? Did I believe in my vision, in myself, and in my team enough to take the leap? We jumped.

Our entire family’s savings became the foundation for the ten-person team that fully committed to Games for Business Ltd. in January 2016. By then, we had a plan—mapped out for five years, built around four to five key KPIs. That plan was the result of nearly ten years of experience, constant learning, and the drive to create something different. The team that stood beside and behind me had become a tightly knit unit. Under the leadership of Miki Szalai, they pushed through the next three and a half years.

The journey to the company’s sale in 2019 wasn’t easy. It involved an enormous amount of work, uncertainty, and stress. But I believe the biggest challenge was envisioning where I wanted to go—and believing in myself enough to make sacrifices to get there.

How did you experience the exit process? What emotions were swirling inside you when it happened?

It’s a strange thing. The exit was one of the possible outcomes of the plan I had put together. And how great is it to have an international company acquire you? That’s the ultimate validation, isn’t it? It confirms all the years of hard work we put in. It provides financial security (91% of the ownership was in my family’s hands), and what greater professional recognition could there be than building a company that catches the attention of global players and is worth acquiring? (We were involved in four acquisition processes within a year and a half.) And surely, all of this would reinforce the sense of freedom I had always valued. Right? Could there be a greater achievement in a man’s life than seeing his creative abilities bear fruit and being able to reap the rewards?

None of it turned out the way I expected. Or rather, it did—but I didn’t feel any of it. Recognition? Almost no one wrote about the acquisition of Games for Business. Just a few short articles, barely longer than obituary notices. Was that it? Did no one care that we made it? That I pulled it off? No recognition.

Money and security? For years, I was terrified of losing it—of making bad decisions, of an economic collapse. I had never felt as financially insecure or as stressed as I did during that time.

And my freedom? The freedom I had always been so proud of? It was locked away, rotting between the pages of my syndicate contract. I became an employee. After 25 years of being an entrepreneur—25 years where I made all the decisions, where, despite carrying all the risk, the final say was always mine—I now had to report to someone. First monthly, then every one or two weeks. I had to explain why I was doing what I was doing. To people who, despite their best intentions, simply didn’t understand our work—different culture, different industry, different goals.

It was terrible. I became a slave in my own team. A general turned mercenary. And that was so far removed from everything I had ever thought about myself, from the life I had envisioned, that it shook everything around me. No one had ever told me about this. I hadn’t read about it in Forbes, in startup magazines, or heard about it on entrepreneur podcasts. And I know it’s hard for many to understand—so many people dream of reaching this point. And yet, I would do it all over again. Again and again.

This event was one of the most important experiences of my life. I wish for everyone to have this experience if they truly desire it.

That period—the two years after the exit when I was still leading the company—gave me a lot. It held up a mirror, and what I saw in it didn’t sit right with me. But I wanted it to.

How did your life change after the exit, both professionally and personally?

Looking back, I see the exit as the closing of a life chapter. After selling the company, COVID hit. The shift in company dynamics, followed by the isolation of the pandemic, triggered something in me. I started asking myself deeper questions about my life. I had achieved everything on my to-do list, yet I didn’t feel good. I couldn’t find my place, and the tension inside me kept growing. I began questioning my place in the world at a fundamental level, which impacted many aspects of my life. The most significant of these was my relationship.

Less than a year after selling the company, I moved out of my home, ending a 25-year relationship with my then-wife. It was terrible, even though I was the one who left. There’s an immense amount of pain in such a breakup. And that pain didn’t spare our children either. It was a difficult period. But perhaps it was also what made me reflect on what kind of father, what kind of partner I had been. How much had my family truly been part of my decisions? Of course, I had always believed I was doing everything for them—for their security, their well-being. But maybe, in the process, I hadn’t considered what they truly needed. And, in a way, that stemmed from the fact that I didn’t even know what I truly needed.

After the divorce, I embarked on a deep journey of self-discovery. The space that opened up in my life demanded to be filled somehow. And something led me toward silence, introspection. I started diving into psychology again, reading extensively, watching professional videos, meditating, and exploring different spiritual paths. I tried everything—astrology, tarot readings, energy healing, numerology, Access Bars, family constellations. I went to coaches, psychologists, therapists. I even attended a Buddhist retreat and a silent course at the Pannonhalma Abbey.

I was searching for who I really was. Trying to put down the burdens life had given me—the ones I had carried so willingly over the years. Because somewhere along the way, I had come to believe that bearing those burdens made me good, useful, made me a man. And maybe, at that time, it really did.

I’ve now been with my wife, Kata, for almost three years. Around the time we met, I felt a renewed desire to build something again—to create a company, something new, something meaningful. Something that is truly me, something that—if I dare use big words—embodies my life’s purpose. I want to find that thing, the reason I exist, and build a company from it.

I know these are big words. And maybe we can never be completely sure that what we’re doing is truly the thing. But maybe we don’t have to be. Maybe it’s enough to believe in it. It’s enough if I believe in it—just as I once believed in Games for Business. And for me, that’s enough.

What new goals have you set for yourself since then?

This has been a process full of twists and turns. :) The first thing I told myself around the time of selling my company was that I would leave entrepreneurship behind. I had had enough. I would become an athlete, an internationally recognized one. Why not? :) I wanted to prove myself in an entirely new field and achieve results. Although I wasn’t exempt from PE in high school, I wasn’t exactly the sharpest tool in the shed when it came to sports. That made winning all the more appealing.

I reached out to people with outstanding achievements—Olympic champions, world champions, both men and women from various sports. I wanted to see and feel what they were like, what they believed made them exceptional, and what helped them reach their goals. I even had a few conversations, and I started thinking in terms of a ten-year cycle—how I could make this new goal a reality.

By early 2020, I had a clear direction. But then, changes in my personal life pulled me away from sports. By the time I could have gotten back to it, I realized it wasn’t my path after all. I came to understand that this whole endeavor was really about fear. I was afraid that if I started building a business again and it didn’t work out, the failure would take away my past successes. I was afraid that people would say, See? We told you—he just got lucky with G4B, nothing more.

What I truly want is to create. And now, I have a clearer vision of the field in which I want to do it. I believe I have a good eye for recognizing talent—for seeing when someone is exceptional at something, even if they don’t know it themselves or don’t believe in it. And I have the ability to help them transform that talent into the success they aspire to. I think, in a way, this is what I do with myself as well.

This realization led me to become a co-owner in multiple business projects. These include a company developing a parenting-support mobile app, a dietary supplement business, tourism projects, and I also remain a silent partner in the marketing agency where Games for Business began. On top of that, in January, I successfully completed my final exams at the National University of Public Service and officially became a space policy advisor—opening up the possibility for me to enter this industry with a solid understanding if life takes me in that direction.

But the most important initiative for me is helping business leaders find their own paths by exploring questions of self-awareness. As part of this, I write a blog, which has evolved into an offline blog—a book titled Párpercesek. For the past two years, I’ve been mentoring entrepreneurs, partially pro bono. I also launched forest walks—every Wednesday, someone joins me for a 2-3 hour dog walk, where we discuss their business challenges. My Wednesdays are booked three months in advance, and more than half of the leaders travel from the Budapest area for the Mecsek walk.

In December, we also launched our coffeehouse conversations, where we sit down over a coffee and talk about our experiences as entrepreneurs. I plan to expand this project to Budapest, meeting once a month in the capital to host these discussions.

I love these sessions. I feel like this is my calling. I believe that this is where I’ll find the direction that will define my next business venture. That the solution is already within me, but it will emerge through my interactions with others—whatever it may be. I don’t see it clearly yet, but hopefully, I will soon. And when that happens, the development of my new company can begin.

If you were to build a startup again, what would you do differently, and what would you keep from your original methods?

I’ve thought about this a lot. Last September, I decided to start a new company. I had already received inquiries for mentoring and consulting, but in 2023, I took on almost everything pro bono—deliberately. I simply wanted to understand what the true value of my work was. Once I figured that out, I could price it, and from there, I could develop a business model. But the desire to launch the company kept growing inside me. I knew I had to put pressure on myself. I had always thrived under pressure—historically, the riskier the situation, the better I performed.

So, I called my lawyer friend, got the paperwork done, and everything was ready to go. I started listing expenses, planning revenue, making calls, and reconnecting with people so that when I hit the green button, the business would take off immediately. It only took a few weeks, and I already felt fully armed and ready for battle.

Then, during lunch one day, my wife, Kata, gently asked, Have you noticed how tense you’ve been since you decided to start a company?

Uhh. She was right. But wasn’t this what I wanted? To put pressure on myself and perform again? Was that what I wanted? Is that what I want?

I love our life—the peace, the harmony around us. I’ve found my sense of purpose. By now, I’ve helped over a hundred business leaders, received a lot of positive feedback, and I can feel that what I do has meaning. The companies I’m involved in are moving forward. The company my wife and I built together, Lost Garden Kft., has won multiple international awards. Another big dream of mine came true—I was able to stand beside the most important woman in my life as a true partner, supporting her in pursuing her own dreams. And she’s doing it spectacularly.

I have no reason to rush. And maybe that’s the biggest shift. I no longer want to put pressure on myself just to move faster. I don’t want to dominate my life and force it into a shape I dictate. Instead, I want to explore what my life could be—so that when the right opportunities appear, I can choose the path that truly calls me.

Some days, this approach is hard. It’s tough when I don’t see the road ahead or when I feel like I’ve been standing still for too long. That’s when my old instincts kick in—when the conqueror, the alpha inside me, wants to take over and restart the well-oiled machine that used to work so well.

Because that machine still works today. I can still plan, set goals, define key KPIs, allocate resources, build strategies, execute them, and invoice every single item. And that has its time and place. Just not yet.

First, I want to understand where my path is leading me. I want to test it, get to know it, trust it, and believe in it. And that takes time.

I’m fortunate to have that time. And I want to use it well.

What advice would you give to those who are about to embark on a similar journey?

A few weeks ago, I was invited to a talk at the economics faculty in Pécs to share my journey—where I started, where I ended up, what drove me forward, and what fueled our company’s innovation. At the end of the discussion, one of the students asked what advice I would give to young people like them.

Honestly, I don’t think it matters what I say. :) So many people gave me advice, yet I only ever followed my own instincts. I loved experiencing life firsthand, figuring things out for myself, and I rarely listened to anyone else. Unfortunately.

But of course, I answered the question then, and I will now as well. If you want to start your own company, I believe three key things matter most.

First, know yourself. Understand what you truly desire, what is important to you. I believe everyone has a red button—a deep wound, a missing piece, or a strong ambition that drives them, shaping every decision they make. It’s good to be aware of this. Your desires pull you forward in life. It’s also important to recognize your fears, as these are the things that hold you back, the things you want to escape from. If your fear and your desire become too entangled, your path will be a constant struggle, like walking in place. And of course, get to know your strengths and resources. Once you have clarity on these things, you can figure out where you want to go, what a business can provide for you, what you already have, and what you need to acquire. From there, you can start building a strategy.

Second, pay attention to your relationships. It’s rare to live a fulfilling life completely alone. Being isolated in this vast universe can be an incredibly lonely and lost feeling. So, be mindful of the connections you form—who you can collaborate with, who energizes you, and who drains you. Surround yourself with people who uplift and inspire you, and try to distance yourself from those who deplete you. No matter what kind of business you want to build, success will always depend on human relationships—at least for a long time to come.

Third, understand your relationship with money. Money is the energy or resource that a business, as a legal entity, is created to generate. For years, I had a complicated “love-hate” relationship with money, and that’s not ideal when you’re responsible for generating revenue. If you want to build a company, take a hard look at this. Money matters. You can be as spiritual and pure-hearted as you like, but if you’re running a business, you must learn how to handle money. So, pay attention to it!

How difficult is it to manage the post-exit period well? Was there anything that particularly caught you off guard?

Everything caught me off guard.

I have two sons, soon to be 23 and 20. I was there for both of their births, standing beside their mother the entire time. I saw, heard, and felt so much of it—I was part of the experience. But… I still have no idea what it’s like to give birth. That’s exactly how I felt about the exit.

I thought I was prepared. I had consciously worked towards making the company sellable. Everything was digitized—every document, invoice, contract, and record had been organized from day one to ensure we were always audit-ready. I accepted every investor meeting, enjoyed the negotiations because each conversation brought me closer to understanding how capital thinks and operates. I talked to successful business leaders, and I even had a mentor. The company was sold, almost exactly as I had envisioned years earlier.

But the void that followed—I was not prepared for that. The shift in identity. No one talked about it. And even if they had, I don’t know if it would have helped.

The real shock came when I finally left the company for good. Suddenly, I wasn’t important anymore. No emails, no phone calls, nothing to do. I woke up early, had my coffee, cleaned the house, went to the gym—and by the time I got home from my workout, it was only 9 AM. And I had already done everything I planned for the day.

I just watched the grass grow. And in January, the grass grows very slowly.

I had no output. Who am I if I’m not achieving something? What is the point of my existence if I’m not doing anything? My life felt so empty, everything I had built just crumbled into dust. I don’t even know how to describe it properly. For three months, everything felt meaningless.

Of course, my story has a happy ending—though "happy ending" isn’t the right phrase, because it’s not over yet. If my plans work out, I don’t intend to say my final goodbyes until around 2067-72.

How can you prepare for this kind of change? We need these stories. We need honest accounts, real experiences of what happens after selling a company. How people’s lives changed—if they changed. And what they did if they didn’t.

It’s good to talk about these things.

How do you see the Hungarian startup ecosystem, and what message would you send to those just starting out?

Honestly, I don’t really follow the startup ecosystem. I never even considered Games for Business a startup. So, I wouldn’t try to analyze it—especially because I’m quite skeptical about investment, and from what I see, the investor process plays a major role in this ecosystem.

If we’re talking about starting a business, my advice would be this: before you launch a company, understand who youwill be in it and what your value is. Understand how you relate to your own worth.

Don’t forget—it’s your responsibility to show the market your value. It’s up to you to figure out what your value represents. Once you know that, understand what you want to convert that value into: recognition, relationships, attention, love, money? What truly brings you joy?

Because a business will only be a fulfilling part of your life if you feel valuable in it and if it gives you what you truly desire. That doesn’t mean it will be easy, and it doesn’t guarantee success. But it does mean that you’ll know it’s worth working for.

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The article was translated from Hungarian to English by ChatGPT. Thank you, ChatGPT, for being here.