“ A Butterfly flaps its wings, causes a storm in Beijing” — Chaos Theory
It was 12:42 p.m. , just eighteen minutes away from our next cleaning assignment. My first-ever 9 a.m. deep cleaning project was clearly overrunning, over budget, and from the looks of it, my staff would be late for her next cleaning appointment. Disaster for a new cleaning company.
I had to improvise. I loaded the backpack vacuum cleaner, cloth, and chemicals onto our blue Mercedes Benz B-Class family car and told “Aunty Leong” to get in — I was driving her there myself.
Aunty Leong is not my actual aunt, of course. In Singapore — a prosperous and by any measure successful country — we retain a deferential and respectful tone towards our elders. Therefore, we have the habit of addressing our cleaners as “Uncle” or “Aunty.” This practice stems from the fact that many local cleaners are elderly, a consequence of generational inequality.
“Ten minutes from Bishan to Toa Payoh if I step on the gas and avoid bad traffic. We’ll make it,” I thought to myself as I turned the air conditioner to full blast to cool down my crew in preparation for her next appointment. As Aunty Leong chowed down her prepared home-cooked lunch, she looked at me curiously and said, “You’re a Masters graduate, aren’t you? Why are you doing this? Isn’t this a waste of your time and talent?”
Her words — while well-meaning — made me feel dejected. Not because I felt ashamed of the work, but because I knew there was a lot to be done for the workers themselves to feel proud of their own work and profession.
But I am getting ahead of myself. Aunty Leong’s facts were indeed correct. I did graduate with a master’s degree from Oxford, and I had completed my undergraduate studies in Philosophy and Economics at the prestigious London School of Economics. This was my chosen profession, my meticulously planned career path.
So how did I end up here, navigating the streets with a vacuum cleaner in tow? The answer lies in the unpredictable journey that began on that sunny graduation day, propelled by a desire to break free from the conventional and a determination to follow a path less traveled.
As it turns out, luck — rather than risk-taking — played a bigger role in how I stumbled into entrepreneurship. Picture this: 2014, fresh out of college, broke, and armed only with a degree in philosophy and economics. My sole skill? Teaching in ancient Greece. “Time to get a real job now, Daniel,” echoed in my head.
I was convinced my destiny lay in consulting. The banks and consulting firms swooped onto campus like seagulls on a dropped sandwich, pitching consulting as the golden ticket to success. They sold us dreams of crafting PowerPoint slides and wrestling with Excel models.
Caught up in the allure, I dove into intense case interview prep, spent endless hours interrogating my reflection, and clung to my shiny degree from the UK.
Miraculously, I snagged a prestigious consulting job offer in the UK, one of the chosen few out of 24,000+ applicants. I felt like a rockstar. I’ve finally “made it” and “belonged” and could finally justify my four-year educational adventure abroad.
But something about the prospect of diving headfirst into a full-time consulting job didn’t sit quite right with me. Maybe it was the thought of being tethered to a desk, crafting PowerPoint slides with the precision of a Renaissance artist, or perhaps it was the realization that my Ancient Greek philosophies wouldn’t see much daylight in a corporate boardroom. Whatever it was, I felt a nagging itch to do something different. I wanted to start tiny business projects, read philosophy, travel the world, do something creative.
Before I started my consulting gig, I decided to take a gap year and dabble in small business ventures. It was a bold move, but I had an ace up my sleeve: Isabella, my ever-supportive long-term girlfriend, who was all for me taking this detour. “Go on, do whatever you need to do,” she said, with the kind of faith that makes you feel like you can conquer the world. So, with her blessing, I traded London’s grey skies for the vibrant streets of Singapore.
But fate threw a curveball that could rival any sitcom plot twist. During my gap year, the visa cap for non-EU citizens was breached for the first time since 2011. Firms had to rescind offers to meet their pre-agreed visa quotas. Naturally, offers to candidates on a gap year were the first to go.
Suddenly, my consulting job offer evaporated like a mirage. I couldn’t legally work in London anymore. My dream job had slipped through my fingers, and my world was turned upside down.
Going from having a secure job to facing the prospect of a long-distance relationship, everything seemed uncertain. It was as if the universe was playing a prank on me, just when I thought I had it all figured out. Jim Carrey’s 2014 Commencement Speech suddenly came into sharp focus: if one can lose one’s job at even the most stable and conservative choices, one might as well take a chance on doing what they love, even if it means failing spectacularly.
So there I was, jobless in Singapore, with nothing but a suitcase full of dreams and a heart full of determination. I realized that maybe, just maybe, this was a sign to pursue something different. Why not take a leap of faith and dive into the world of startups? Why not try to build something from scratch, something I was truly passionate about?
And that’s how my unexpected journey into entrepreneurship began. Not with a grand plan, but with a series of fortunate missteps and the realization that sometimes, the best-laid plans are meant to be upended.
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Returning to Southeast Asia in 2015 was a blessing in disguise. I came back with a newfound determination to explore unorthodox career paths. If the ‘safe’ path could evaporate overnight, why not roll the dice on something you’re passionate about?
2014 was the advent of the on-demand economy, a time when startups were revolutionizing traditional industries and changing the way we lived, worked, and played. Companies like Airbnb and Uber were at the forefront, disrupting the status quo and proving that convenience was king. Airbnb was transforming spare bedrooms into mini-hotels, making it possible for anyone with a spare room to become a host and for travelers to find unique, affordable accommodations. Uber, on the other hand, was turning everyday cars into taxis, offering a seamless and often more economical alternative to traditional cab services.
But it wasn’t just services that were becoming on-demand. E-commerce giants like Amazon were changing the retail landscape, making it possible to order virtually any product and have it delivered to your doorstep, sometimes within hours. This instant gratification was feeding into a culture that valued speed and efficiency, and it was setting the stage for an entire economy built around the idea that anything you needed could be obtained with just a few clicks.
Smartphones and the internet had turned the world into a giant hotel, and everyone was becoming a concierge service to the increasingly rising and affluent middle-class consumer. From getting food delivered to your door, to ironing your shirt, to arranging your transportation, the on-demand economy was reshaping daily life. This was the Mobile Internet Revolution, I thought, where convenience and instant access were the new currency.
This was also around this time ‘MyTeksi’ ( now know as Grab) an Uber-lookalike solution was making waves in Southeast Asia, getting a commanding lead in its local markets through strong hyper-localisation , aggressive marketing and focus on this part of the region.
Joining a fast-growing startup solving real-world problems therefore seemed like the logical next step. But after chatting with numerous local startups, I struggled to find one that lit a fire in me. That was until a chanced reunion with a bunch of Oxford alumni in Malaysia who — inspired by Anthony Tan’s success at Grab- have set their sights on Uberizing a seemingly neglected sector of the on-demand economy — cleaning.
If you can lose your job even at the most ‘stable’ and ‘conservative’ of choices, you might as well take a chance on doing what you love and fail- Jim Carrey
Coming back to Southeast Asia in 2015 was one of those pivotal moments in my life that, in hindsight, carried more meaning than I could ever have anticipated. It wasn’t just about returning to a familiar environment — it was about clarity, a sense of purpose, and the realization that conventional paths weren’t as stable as I once believed. Losing a ‘safe’ job in a so-called conservative industry made one thing crystal clear: if even the predictable can fail, why not take a chance on something you truly believe in?
That’s when I found myself drawn to the energy of startups. Companies like Lazada and Grab — homegrown Southeast Asian powerhouses — hadn’t just competed with global tech giants like Amazon and Uber, they had surpassed them. They were living proof that disruptive, innovative ideas could emerge from anywhere. That energy lit a fire in me. Why couldn’t the same principles be applied to an industry as mundane yet essential as home services?
It clicked for me: the home services industry had far broader implications than taxis or e-commerce. At some point, everyone needs a plumber, a cleaner, or someone to fix their air conditioner. Yet in 2015, people were still finding these services the old-fashioned way — taping flyers to trees, hoping someone would stop long enough to notice. The sheer contrast between a digital-first world and these outdated methods convinced me there had to be a better way. Why couldn’t finding a plumber or cleaner be as simple as hailing a ride?
That’s when I joined forces with a group of Malaysian Oxford MBAs who were already working on the same concept. Together, we imagined a services marketplace that would ‘Uberize’ the Home Service experience — making it easy for customers to connect with reliable freelance cleaners, plumbers, and repairmen, while giving local service professionals a platform to grow their business in an increasingly digital world (not like the photo above!).
And so, ServisHero.com was born. This was my first real business, and in many ways, it felt like I was doing an applied MBA — except the stakes were real, and the consequences of every decision were immediate. The theoretical knowledge I had accumulated over the years was suddenly being tested. We were navigating uncharted territory, and every small win felt like validation that we were onto something.
We were filled with excitement and optimism, but in hindsight, we were also pretty naïve. Like many first-time entrepreneurs, we focused on the things that made the business look good from the outside. We sketched out wireframes, designed the perfect logo, and even blew a good portion of our budget on a slick YouTube ad. It felt like the more polished our image, the closer we were to success. In our minds, that ad would get us noticed and turn ServisHero into a household name overnight.
Soon after, venture capital started flowing in. We raised close to US$3 million in seed money, which only fueled our sense that we were on the verge of something massive. It felt like we were on a rocket ship. We launched in Kuala Lumpur, expanded to Johor, and set our sights on Singapore and Thailand. With each move, the pace picked up, and before I knew it, I was named the youngest country manager of ServisHero Singapore.
This was my first big career break — it was thrilling but also daunting. I was responsible for breaking into an entirely new market, making fast decisions, leading a small team of two, and adapting on the fly. It was exciting, but also a crash course in what it really takes to manage a business, especially one with very little margin for error.
Finding Demand
The idea behind ServisHero was a classic two-sided marketplace. On one side, you had homeowners and businesses searching for a reliable handyman, cleaner, or electrician, and on the other, service professionals looking to increase their earnings. We aimed to solve the ‘chicken or egg’ problem — finding enough customers to entice service providers, and vice versa. How did we plan to make money? We charged service providers to respond to verified customer leads, similar to how dating sites charge certain users a fee to respond to matches. We didn’t mind if customers only used us once or twice for a quick service like gardening. The broader plan was to build a platform so comprehensive that people could find everything from swimming instructors to tuition teachers on ServisHero — a modern-day Yellow Pages.
But the reality hit fast — how does a one-year-old startup with a team of three in Singapore find enough customers to grow? Without customers, there would be no service pros interested in joining our platform. Without service providers, there would be no services, and without services, there would be no customers! It was the classic ‘chicken or egg’ problem every marketplace faces. I had to solve one side of the puzzle before the other.
Hustling was our only tool, and we leaned into it hard. I wasn’t above getting my hands dirty. I scrubbed the toilets and clean for our customers alongside our pros, I ran marathons in a tradie uniform to draw attention to our brand. We handed out free ice cream to anyone in Singapore’s central business district who downloaded our app. I personally distributed flyers, knocked on doors, and worked tirelessly to drum up consumer interest while my two-person team focused on onboarding more freelancers. Meanwhile, our HQ in Malaysia ran digital ads on Google, Instagram, and Facebook to bring in leads from online channels.
Finding Supply
On the supply side, Fareed Mustakin, my intern at the time, proved to be invaluable. He relentlessly cold-called hundreds of freelancers listed in the yellow pages and on flyers, persuading cleaners, plumbers, and handymen to join our platform. Fareed was so inspired by our mission to empower trade workers that he changed his class schedule to evening slots just so he could support the business full-time(!). His dedication was a game-changer for us. Fareed would later go on to become one of my key staff members at Nimbus — but more on that later.
Much of what we did wasn’t glamorous, but it was necessary. We hustled because that was the only way to keep the dream alive. It struck me that what motivated me to work so hard in this business is that we weren’t just helping people find home services — we believed we were empowering local tradesmen and women to improve their livelihoods, giving them a chance to compete in a digital age that was rapidly leaving traditional businesses and people behind.
Looking back, the journey was fast-paced and filled with uncertainty, but there was an undeniable sense of adventure in building something from the ground up. By 2016, we had successfully built a network of over 500 service providers in Singapore, fulfilling thousands of customer requests each month. It felt like real progress — but beneath the surface, cracks in our business model were beginning to show. These would soon set the stage for some tough business lessons I was about to learn.