Archived / first business
Back in 2023, one of my first real businesses: a fitness-equipment dropshipping brand, built with a partner in the United States. It's long closed now — but it taught me more than almost anything since.
Discontinued · partner moved onThe model was straightforward dropshipping: an online storefront selling fitness and home-gym equipment, with orders fulfilled directly by suppliers rather than held as stock. I ran it together with a partner based in America, splitting the work across the build, the marketing and the day-to-day.
It was never going to be a household name, and that was fine. The point was to take something from an idea to a real, operating shop that took real orders — and to learn how all the moving parts of e-commerce actually fit together when money is on the line.
Set up the brand, store and supply chain with my US partner.
Sold fitness equipment online, tested marketing, handled real customers.
Wound down cleanly when my partner chose to change careers.
The business didn't collapse and it wasn't a disaster — my partner decided to move in a different career direction, and without both of us behind it, the right call was to close it down properly rather than let it drift. So we did.
Knowing when to close something well is its own kind of skill — and it doesn't take anything away from what you learned building it.
Everything I do now — the agency, the software, the automation — sits on top of what this first venture taught me.
Dropshipping lives or dies on suppliers, shipping times and returns. The store is the easy part — the operations behind it are the real work.
No traffic, no sales. Learning to write ads, test creatives and read what actually converts is the thread that runs straight into HJ Marketers today.
Running something with a partner an ocean away taught me to communicate clearly, document decisions and keep things moving without constant overlap.
A real shop taking real orders teaches you in weeks what planning never will. Getting something live beats getting it perfect.
Closing something cleanly — instead of clinging on — is a discipline. It frees you to put your energy where it actually belongs next.