A few years ago, as I was finishing That Will Never Work, my book about starting Netflix, I sent a draft to my eldest son, Logan. He appears a lot in its pages, growing from a kindergartner eating fluffernutters at the kitchen table to a young man in a brand-new blazer, accompanying me and Reed Hastings to New York for the Netflix I.P.O. I thought he’d be interested to see his role in the story. And since he’s a young entrepreneur now, I wanted to get his take on some of the lessons I tried to embed within the narrative.


A few weeks ago, one of the organizations I work with started its board meeting with the icebreaker, “tell us something about yourself that most people don’t know”. Someone shared that he had carried the torch in an Olympic relay. Then, even more surprisingly, he showed us the actual Olympic torch.

This created quite a stir. The Olympic torch? What was he doing with it? Wasn’t the Olympic torch a one-of-a-kind item passed hand-to-hand, for thousands of miles, from Greece to the site of the Olympics?

“Wait, wait, wait,” he blurted out after noticing our confusion. “You don’t pass the…


I’ll make you a bet.

Put me in any supermarket in the world — even one I’ve never been to before — and I’ll bet you I can walk straight to the milk. That’s because it’s always found in the same place: in a refrigerated case at the very back of the store. A location calculated to be as far as possible from the front door, that requires navigating past the salty snacks, the cereal, and several hundred other high-margin impulse-buy products.

And it’s not just supermarkets. You’ll find this pattern repeated in big-box stores, gas stations, 7–11s, and pretty…


Before Covid, I used to spend a lot of time in airports. And no matter what city I was in, no matter what time of day, I saw it at least once: a harried traveler sprinting through the terminal, trailing rolling suitcases, scarves, and sometimes even small children in their wake, in a desperate attempt to make it to the gate before the door closed.

And every time, it made me shake my head.

Not because I’m smug about being early for my own flight. But because over decades of traveling, I’ve learned something important:

You should never, ever, run…


Hint: It’s Richard Branson’s fault.

Five Years Ago, Richard Branson invited me and my wife to spend 4 days on his private island.

I turned him down.

That decision lasted exactly as long as it took to tell my wife about it. Within minutes, my plans to go mountain biking that particular week were cancelled, and Lorraine and I were stocking up on sunscreen.

Necker Island beckoned, but it wasn’t all going to be fun and games. In addition to four days of beach, kitesurfing, and partying, I was asked to give a 40-minute presentation on “turning dreams to realities”…


It’s hard being a leader.

Especially in an early stage company, where leadership often requires that every few weeks you have to make a pivotal, game-changing decision based on incomplete, inconclusive, or ambiguous information.

In my book That Will Never Work, I write about the brutal decision we made early on at Netflix to stop selling DVDs, which at the time accounted for 95% of our revenue, and focus entirely on making our nascent rental business successful. …


In 2002, after six years thinking of little other than Netflix, I decided it was time to think a little differently. And so I left.

The most wonderful byproduct of this was that I finally had time. Time to linger over coffee with my wife. Time to get outside and surf, run, or mountain bike every morning. Time to head into the Tetons for two weeks of back-country snowboarding.

There was time to engage with other startups, many of whom were looking for advice from someone freshly back from the war. It was easy to say yes to every invitation to talk, to have coffee, or to sit on an advisory board.

Then the non-profit community came calling, and before I knew it was on…


I’ve always been an optimist.

And over a forty-year career as an entrepreneur, that glass-half-full attitude has been an occupational necessity. There’s no way I could have kept launching into new ventures — and being told “that will never work” time and time again — without continually believing “there has to be a way to figure it out”.

In my career, I’ve run thousands of tests, 97.3% of which didn’t work. But I always see these failures not as dead ends, but as fresh leaping off points. Every failure teaches me something. …


Earlier this year, I was invited to sit down for an interview with leadership coach Ishita Gupta. As we sat waiting for the techs to get things ready, she casually mentioned she was about to climb Mount Everest.

Well, sort of. She was really climbing Kilimanjaro.

Ok. It’s complicated.

Ishita had signed up for an Everesting challenge, in which hikers ascend some of the world’s tallest mountains: Kilimanjaro, Denali, Everest. But instead of flying to Tanzania, Alaska, or Nepal armed with ropes and ice-axes, participants travel to Idaho, Vermont, or Utah. …


I’ve been talking a lot about courage recently. I’m starting to conclude that it’s one of the most important characteristics for any entrepreneur.

I wrote last time— and in my book That Will Never Work — about how Netflix walked away from our lucrative business of selling DVDs to focus everything on rental. If you know me, you’ve heard me tell that story dozens of times. You’re probably sick of it. …

Marc Randolph

Netflix Co-founder. Entrepreneur, Investor and Advisor

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