My business is designed to repel people.

Someone asked me a question on a chemistry call recently and it's now living rent free in my brain.

"What would stop you from working with someone?"

I went quiet.

Not because I didn't have an answer, but because I felt like I had too many.

My brain was pinging with lots of different reasons. My mouth was trying to catch up and figure out which to say first. And what came out, eventually, was something I've been thinking about ever since.

There are more reasons I wouldn't work with someone than reasons I would.

It sounds brutal, but hear me out.

I've designed my entire business to intentionally repel people. Not all people, obviously. And certainly not you, [FIRST NAME GOES HERE]. But, you know, the wrong ones.

Exhibit A: My website has a photo of me with unshaved armpits on my about page.
Exhibit B: I talk openly about being queer and neurodivergent.
Exhibit C: I write overly personal newsletters about grief, geese, and quitting cabin trips after 24 hours.

None of this is accidental.

Every piece of content I put out or copy that I write is quietly asking: do you still wanna be here?

Because if you haven't been put off by the armpit hair or the ADHD or the fact that I once nearly set fire to a corporate offsite then you're probably my kind of person. Hello hi.

And when someone clicks unsubscribe (like Gavin, remember him?), that's actually the system working.

For the record, here's who I'm definitely not for.

I'm not for the person who wants a coach to help them do more and hustle harder. If your measure of success is speed and scale and relentless output then I'm probably going to infuriate you (on purpose). Because what I'm interested in is helping people slow down and figure out if they're even running in the right direction.

I'm not for the leader who wants me to "fix" their team without being willing to look at themselves first. Culture always starts with the people running the show. The best leaders are self-aware and open to their blind spots. The worst are the ones who think they're self-aware and the problem couldn't possibly be them.

I'm not for someone who wants a yes-person. I will back you completely. I will also ask you the question you've been dodging for six months. If you want someone to nod along and blindly tell you you're smashing it, that's not me.

And I'm not for the person who wants coaching to feel comfortable. Often, it'll feel really uncomfortable - not always but often enough. Sometimes I'll hold up mirrors that you'd rather not look into. Sometimes I'll ask something that makes you want to change the subject. That's usually the thing we need to talk about most.

Being able to say "this isn't for everyone" - and mean it - is one of the most powerful things you can do.

But most of us are absolutely terrified to do it.

We spend years saying yes to everything. Yes to the client who makes our stomach drop. Yes to the friendship that leaves us drained. Yes to the version of success that looks right but feels hollow. Yes to the job, the relationship, the city, the lifestyle, because saying no feels arrogant. Or ungrateful. Or even risky.

I spent most of my twenties in that space. Saying yes to things I should have walked away from because I didn't believe I'd earned the right to be choosy.

Now I'm unapologetically choosy, and here's who I choose.

I love working with people who are in that strange, liminal, "I don't know what I don't know" space. The ones who've built something successful - a career, a business, a life - but are now looking around and feeling a bit stuck, unsure of what's next or where they're headed or what they actually want. And that feels scary.

They're not in crisis. They're definitely not broken. But they are ready for something that fits better.

This space is hard to market, to be honest. Because the people in it don't always know they're in it. They just feel a low-level hum of something's off that they can't quite name, and push it down and they carry on.

But when I'm sitting across from someone in that space. When they're starting to untangle what's theirs from what they inherited. When they realise they've reached a point where they actually get to choose.

Well, that's the work. That's what really lights me up!

So here's what I want to leave you with.

You don't have to earn the right to be selective. But you do have to practise it.

Start noticing where you're still saying yes out of obligation, guilt, or fear. Where you're still performing a version of yourself that was designed to be palatable rather than authentic.

And ask yourself: what would I repel if I was brave enough?

The answer might surprise you.