This Idea Will Never Work: The Incredible Story of the Founding of Netflix

Companies that have reached a certain level and have a history also have a beautiful story about their founding.

The author of the book about the history of the man who keeps us awake—oh, that Netflix with its series!—offers us at the beginning of That Will Never Work two stories about how it all started. The first is the idea of Mark Randolph himself: a startup for “delivering shampoo on demand.” The second is the idea of the second founder, Reed Hastings, about the possibility of renting movies without fear of late fees. An idea that supposedly came to him after paying a fine for returning a movie late (when Netflix began, there was such a thing as renting movies on VHS tapes).

Mark Randolph tells these myths to say that it’s not actually true. That revelations are extremely rare. Probably that’s why we love stories about them—just as we love fairy tales. That “for every good idea, there are a thousand bad ones” (c). That distinguishing between them is another difficult and un-fairy-tale task. And yes, even Reed’s idea was a fairy tale, in the sense that it didn’t happen.

What did happen was what psychology calls “effective communication” between people with different mindsets. A startup enthusiast to the core, as Mark Randolph describes himself, and a rational person with an analytical mind—this is how the author characterizes his colleague. There was the ability to distinguish between conflict and a quarrel, the ability to speak in raised voices without actually quarreling. To understand each other and know that “the opponent will put up fierce, uncompromising resistance” (c).

A psychologist cannot ignore the personal. In Mark Randolph’s personal story, there are plenty of “quirks.” From family history—“Uncle Zigi.” Though not really an uncle, nor for Mark. It’s his parents’ cousin’s grandfather, meaning Randolph’s great-grandfather. A cousin. His full name is Sigmund. The surname starts with an “F.” Yes, that one. Another “quirk”—Zigmund F.’s nephew, Edward Bernays, the “father” of modern PR. One more, a big one—his father’s hobby, a curiosity about creating something new, and his father’s principle about taking control of one’s own life.

Hiring employees is also pure psychology. Especially in the early team. Among the most talented and professional, they had to choose those who could work together and specifically on this project. Among them were the Ukrainian couple, the Drautmans, “programming geniuses with a strong accent” (c).

What psychology could there possibly be in spending investors’ money? Well, it turns out that a person who has climbed mountains, rafted rivers, run triathlons, and developed leadership skills in summer camps finds it very hard to simply ask another person for money. And you do have to ask investors for money.

Is a business plan the best cure for “psychological hang-ups”? Then what do you do with yourself when “all business plans fall apart the moment a real customer appears” (c)? And then, when you’re so caught up in launching and growing your company that you forget the reason and purpose behind its founding.

As they say in TV shows: “With all due respect, but…”—with all these things, the book still risked becoming one of the countless “quit and move on!” guides. But it has something that is almost never found in “how-to-succeed” manuals. Such manuals tell the truth that the period of developing your own business requires all your time and thoughts. Mark Randolph also slept a maximum of five hours during that time. At the same time: “I would come to the office around seven in the morning… and work… until about six in the evening. Then I’d jump in the car and in five minutes get home to make it in time for dinner with the kids. I’d help Lorraine put them to bed, and then… I’d go back to the office for a few hours, where I’d sit until ten or eleven at night” (c).

When talking about efficiency and project management, Randolph names the name of a true genius in this field. Guess who? Let’s check—Lorraine, his wife, who “sits at home” with three children and manages to “in a flash” prepare breakfast for them, pack their lunches with Mark, dress the youngest, stuff backpacks with school projects, soccer gear, sweaters, and swimsuits; “teleport” all three from the kitchen to the car, buckle their seatbelts—and kiss her Netflix co-founder goodbye.

“I wanted a little balance between work and personal life—for myself and for my colleagues… If I was opening my own company, it had to fit organically into my life. I dreamed of the kids running into my office at lunchtime, of making it home for family dinner instead of sitting for hours in endless traffic jams.”

As for the confidence that “this” idea (or maybe this one, or the third from last) will never work—Mark Randolph cites the words of Hollywood screenwriter William Goldman: “Nobody knows anything.” This applies not only to unexpected (and incomprehensible) successes and failures of films. Randolph disputes the main rule of brainstorming that there are no bad ideas. He says—there are. “You just won’t know it’s a bad idea until you try it” (c).