7 minutes. $102 million. One lesson.

Read time: 3 min.

Two weeks ago, they robbed the Louvre.

$102 million in jewels, probably gone forever.

What didn't happen: no heist like you see in Hollywood movies with lasers, unbreakable vaults, and impenetrable security.

What did happen: men in construction clothes drove a van with a cherry picker to the balcony, used angle grinders to open a window and break through display cases, grabbed eight crown jewels, and disappeared on scooters.

7 minutes. That's all it took.

And here’s the funny part.

We assume places like the Louvre have it all figured out. Perfect security. Bulletproof systems. Zero room for error.

But they don't.

Even a government institution guarding a nation's pride is just... winging it.

When I read that, I had to laugh.

Not that I'm planning to steal anything, but that feeling of: "Everything needs to be perfect before I can do it." That perfectionism. That endless waiting until you're 'ready.'

But here's the thing: nobody is ready.

Nobody has it perfectly figured out. Not even the people who look like they have it all under control.

The real problem

Here's what I see with people who are just as smart as you:

You have expertise. Knowledge that would help others. An offer that's valuable.

But you're waiting until your website is perfect. Until your branding is right. Until you know exactly how to position yourself. Until you're "expert enough."

And meanwhile? Someone else with half your knowledge and three times your courage launches their offer. Imperfect. Unfinished. But visible.

This isn't an attack on you. This is an attack on the belief that's holding you back.

Because you know what that voice in your head really is?

That's impostor syndrome.

And it's way more common than you think.

78% of business leaders admit they've experienced it in their current role. That means the person you think has it all figured out? They're probably doubting themselves right now too.

Even Sheryl Sandberg (former COO of Facebook and a billionaire) said: "Every time I didn't embarrass myself, I thought I had fooled everyone. One day the truth would come out."

If she feels that way, do you really think you need to be "perfect enough" before you start?

What changed for me

I hesitated for weeks before launching my coaching program.

Everything had to be perfect. The sales page. The positioning. The price. Every detail.

And every time I thought "okay, now it's ready," I saw something else that could be better.

You know what would have happened if I'd listened to that voice?

I'd still be perfecting it right now. There'd be no program online. And I wouldn't have helped anyone yet.

Instead, I launched with 80% of what I considered "ideal."

People joined. They got results. They moved forward.

Not because it was perfect. But because it was good enough to help them progress.

Look at the pattern

Facebook started as a website for one university. No global strategy. Just: "Let's try this."

Amazon started by selling books. Just books. Jeff Bezos didn't wait to become "the everything store."

Airbnb launched as three guys renting air mattresses in their apartment during a conference. One weekend. Three guests. Now it's worth $80+ billion.

None of these companies waited until everything was perfect. They launched imperfect. They tested. They learned. They improved.

And now they're the names everyone knows.

While thousands of others are still "perfecting."

So what now?

Stop waiting.

Not because you're ready.

But because "ready" is a lie your brain tells you to keep you safe.

The Louvre wasn't ready for that heist. Facebook wasn't ready for a billion users. You weren't ready for half the things you've already survived.

But here you are.

Your expertise is enough. Your offer is enough. You are enough.

The only thing that's not enough? Staying invisible while you polish something that's already good enough to help people.

Launch it. Imperfect. Uncomfortable. Unfinished.

Because the world doesn't need more perfect plans.

It needs more people willing to help.

That person could be you.

Much love,

— Martijn