When They Come to Replace You

As your company grows, someone will want to replace you. If you are the technical cofounder, it will probably come earlier than you think.

When we started the company, my cofounder and I had very similar backgrounds. We were both biomedical engineers. He was more into software and I was more into hardware. So we split it the simple way. I would build the physical parts and he would develop the digital bits.

That didn’t last. As the company and our relationship evolved, I ended up owning the full R&D. Hardware and software.

For the next few years, I was the CTO, with hardware being the epicentre of the company. I was doing everything, from discovery to shipping units. I was so deep in every aspect of Product that eventually I added it to my title. CTO became CPTO.

In the fifth year of the company, our software lead asked me for a one-to-one.

He was a great guy. Over time, he had taken many software responsibilities off my plate. From design to coding & QA, the digital bits were in his hands. And now he wanted to be an entrepreneur and build his own startup.

That was a tough meeting. But I could never get pissed off with a great engineer being ambitious.

Our board saw something bigger in his departure. For them, it was a great opportunity to hire a software executive. A software CTO, or what the medical devices industry calls a VP of R&D.

I didn’t know anything about this. Until my cofounder & CEO asked me to go for a walk.

We walked a full park in central London, talking about the company and its projects. How well the clinical trials I led were managed. How important reimbursement was for the company. And then, the plan. The company hires a VP of R&D, essentially a software CTO. And I remain an important member of the company, responsible for clinical evidence and reimbursement, since hardware development had stopped being a priority.

The story was simple. I was a great CTO for the first five years, when hardware was the core IP. Now it’s software, so we need a change.

I told him I was open to it.

For the next few days I carried that walk around with me. I talked to my network. And I felt two forces pulling inside me.

The first one was emotional, and it was loud. For five years, CTO wasn’t just my title. It was who I was. My friends were CTOs. When people introduced me, they said cofounder and CTO. Now I was supposed to hand that over, and I didn’t know who I would be on the other side. And underneath it, something else. The board had discussed my role without me. My company suddenly didn’t feel my home anymore. For a moment, I didn’t know whom to trust.

The second force was reason, and it was quieter but persistent. It kept repeating the same uncomfortable facts. I was not a software engineer. I was not a coder. I had learned so much about software in five years, but the company could indeed go faster with a software founder.

Both were right about something. So I organised my thoughts and tried to find what was right. For me, for the company, for our investors, our customers, our team. For everyone.

I went back to the roadmap. It was full. Block after block of work, and almost all of it was software work. Nothing on it was waiting for another manager or another leader. What it needed, first, was good, fast developers. We needed to build, not to lead. Unless a new leader would change the roadmap completely. But then we were back to square one.

The reimbursement strategy was a different story. It was an important project, and an exciting one. But a Greek man living in London and building remotely a reimbursement strategy for the US market? That’s a risky project. I would need resources and a full buy-in from everyone. And we weren’t ready. It was a few years down the road. I could see that.

So over a board call, I proposed something different: prioritise a hands-on software lead, reporting to me. Not a CTO. An experienced engineer, who would run the two new developers we were hiring and support me while I led product management. Then I put it in an email. I made clear that I understood their points, trusted their judgement, and was 100% committed to finding the VP of R&D they had in mind. I would flag what I saw as a mistake in direction. I would not enforce my opinion. Once I commit, it’s our strategy.

I was heard, but the board decided to go ahead regardless. So the search began. For a couple of months the company looked for its VP of R&D. Candidates came, but none convinced the whole board. Something was off - the software skills, the leadership experience, or the fit to a pre-PMF startup. Throughout this process, I was observing, and supporting, as much as I could.

Then the board acknowledged what everyone could see. It was taking too long. So we started a friendly competition. The search for the VP of R&D would continue, and I would search for the software lead I proposed in parallel. Whoever found a great candidate first, won.

I found many candidates, with all kinds of backgrounds. And it just happened that I found someone good enough for everyone first. He joined the next month. And to be fair to the board, they seemed genuinely happy with how it turned out.

Looking back, this was one of the experiences that made me grow the most.

I was surprised to find out that most cofounders I’ve talked to, especially CTOs, have been challenged by a board member at some point. For CTOs, in my experience, it tends to come earlier. For founder-CEOs, it often comes with fundraising once the company scales. If your company grows, expect it.

When it comes, you will hear the same two voices. Let the emotional one speak, and listen to it. Then go looking for the reason, and listen to that too. Then do what’s right for everyone involved. One day you will look back at this story. You want to be able to say you did the right thing.

I kept a great relationship with the board member who challenged me the most. They were right to challenge me, and it was the best thing for the company. But I never felt it was done in bad faith. I always felt respected. And I knew they had hard decisions to make too.

On that board, though, there were people I considered friends, not just professional allies. When they didn’t come to me first, the glass cracked. Some people see you as more than a colleague. Be considerate of what they expect from you.

So you will be challenged. Count on it. You don’t control how it starts, and you don’t control how it ends. What you control is everything in between. Feel it, then think it through. Look at it from every seat at the table. Say what needs to be said, to the people who need to hear it. Then commit to what’s best for everyone, even when it’s not your plan.

Do that, and whatever the outcome, you walk out respecting yourself. You can’t grow without that. If the people who challenged you walk out respecting you too, that’s a huge win. If they don’t, that’s a moment of truth. And the truth always helps.