Steve Forbes once told someone “This isn’t a dress rehearsal,” and honestly, it’s one of those pieces of advice that sounds simple until you really think about what it means for your business.
At first glance, it feels like another version of “seize the day” or “live in the moment.” Sure, those are nice sentiments. They make for good Instagram captions. But when you’re actually running a company, making payroll, and deciding whether to launch that new product, you need something more concrete than motivational fluff.
The dress rehearsal metaphor works because it forces you to confront something uncomfortable: most of what you do in business can’t be undone. You can’t stop mid-scene and ask for a do-over when you’re dealing with real customers, real employees, and real money on the line.
When Mistakes Actually Matter
Think about what a rehearsal actually is. It’s a protected space where screwing up doesn’t count. You can stumble through your lines, miss your cue, or completely forget the choreography, and nobody in the audience sees it because there is no audience yet.
Broadway performers get that luxury. They can stop halfway through a number, discuss what went wrong, and run it again. They can take a breather when their nerves get the better of them.
But opening night? That’s different. The seats are filled. The curtain goes up. Whatever happens from that moment forward becomes part of the permanent record. People will talk about it, remember it, and judge you based on it.
Running a business operates on opening night rules, not rehearsal rules. When the author of the original piece dealt with that FCC notice that temporarily killed carrier coverage for PhoneBurner, there was no pause button. Clients were watching. Employees were nervous. The clock was ticking. His response in those days defined how people would view both him and the company going forward.
That’s the reality of leadership nobody really prepares you for in business school.
The Risk You Can’t Avoid
Here’s the thing about risk that makes people uncomfortable: you can’t achieve anything meaningful without it. That’s not some motivational poster wisdom. It’s just math.
Novelty requires risk. Achievement requires risk. If you only do things that are guaranteed to work, you’re not innovating. You’re not growing. You’re just maintaining, and in business, maintaining is the same as slowly dying.
Every live performance is unique because it can never happen exactly the same way twice. Even if it’s the thousandth performance of the same musical, something will be different. A line delivered with slightly different emphasis. A lighting cue that’s half a second off. The collective mood of that specific audience on that specific night.
Your business works the same way. You might have launched ten products before, but the eleventh one exists in different market conditions, with different competitors, with different customer expectations. Experience helps, sure. But it doesn’t eliminate uncertainty. It just teaches you how to move forward despite it.
And if you’re not moving forward, you’re falling behind. Broadway shows close after six months or a year not because they’re bad, but because audiences want something new. Your customers think the same way. They’ll leave you for a competitor who’s willing to take risks you’re not.
The Sunk Cost of Playing It Safe
Let’s talk about something that keeps founders up at night: the moment right before launch when everything you’ve invested is on the line and walking away starts to look appealing.
You’ve written the script. You’ve hired the team. You’ve built the set, rented the venue, bought the ads. The investment is massive, and the pressure can be crushing.
Some people quit right before opening night. They convince themselves it’s the safe choice. Better to cut your losses than risk public failure, right?
Wrong.
Once you’ve made the investment, not launching doesn’t protect you from loss. It guarantees it. Your ROI becomes zero. All those hours, all that capital, all that effort evaporates with nothing to show for it.
Even a launch that underperforms gives you something valuable. You learn what works and what doesn’t. You get real feedback from real users. You build momentum, even if it’s less than you hoped for. You create opportunities for iteration and improvement.
A cancelled show accomplishes none of that. It’s just money and time burned for no reason other than fear.
The same logic applies whether you’re launching a startup, rolling out a new feature, or entering a new market. The moment you commit resources, walking away before you see it through becomes the riskier option, not the safer one.
The Performance That Never Happens
The hardest part about “this isn’t a dress rehearsal” isn’t the possibility of failure. It’s accepting that you’ll never feel completely ready.
Performers get nervous before every show, even after hundreds of performances. That feeling doesn’t go away. You don’t wake up one day suddenly confident and fearless. You just learn to perform anyway.
Business works the same way. You’ll always have doubts before a big decision. You’ll always wonder if you’ve prepared enough, if the timing is right, if you should wait just a little bit longer.
But waiting for perfect conditions is another form of rehearsing. And life doesn’t give you that option. The market moves whether you’re ready or not. Competitors launch whether you feel prepared or not. Opportunities expire whether you’ve conquered your fear or not.
The only difference between people who succeed and people who don’t is that successful people do it scared. They walk on stage with sweaty palms and racing hearts and perform anyway, because they understand that the alternative is never performing at all.
Maybe the real question isn’t whether you’re ready, but whether you’re willing to find out what happens when you stop rehearsing and start performing.
