The email arrived with the subject line “Your $1M Opportunity” — the kind of clickbait I usually delete without opening. But curiosity got the better of me. Inside, a supplement company promised “seven figures with zero effort” if I’d simply attach the Daily Stoic brand to their products. They’d handle manufacturing, shipping, even marketing claims about boosting “calm, clarity and resilience.” All I had to do was say yes.
There was just one problem: I didn’t want to.
This wasn’t moral opposition to supplements (I take vitamins daily) or some ascetic rejection of wealth (Seneca himself argued philosophers needn’t be poor). It’s that certain opportunities — no matter how profitable — make your skin prickle with unease. Like being offered cheaply printed Daily Stoic t-shirts years ago, this proposal felt like trading hard-earned trust for quick cash. When brand extensions start resembling carnival hucksterism (“Step right up! Get your Stoic-approved stress pills!”), you’ve probably strayed too far.
What fascinates me isn’t the refusal itself, but why these decisions feel viscerally obvious despite the numbers screaming otherwise. Maybe it’s because real integrity operates at gut level before logic kicks in. The Stoics called this prohairesis — our fundamental capacity to choose what aligns with core principles. No spreadsheet can quantify the cost of that one compromised “yes” that makes every subsequent compromise easier.
So here’s the uncomfortable truth about values-driven work: Sometimes the right choice looks like leaving money on the table. Not out of virtue signaling, but because certain paths — even paved with gold — lead somewhere you don’t want your brand to live. As Marcus Aurelius wrote in his private journal: “It’s silly to try to escape other people’s faults. They are inescapable. Just try to escape your own.” Today, that meant escaping the gravitational pull of easy money.
The Million-Dollar Trap
A few weeks ago, I received an email that would make most entrepreneurs salivate. The subject line screamed about a “seven-figure opportunity” waiting for me, if only I weren’t “too stupid or closed-minded” to see it. The proposal was simple: partner with a supplement manufacturer to create a line of Daily Stoic-branded pills promising “calm, clarity, and resilience.” They’d handle production, fulfillment, everything. My role? Just lend my brand and audience. Easy millions.
Except nothing about this felt easy. The math might work on paper – slap a philosophy brand on some capsules, leverage existing trust, watch profits roll in. But as I read the excited projections about market potential and passive income streams, three warning lights started blinking in my peripheral vision.
First, the risk transfer. While the email emphasized they’d “handle everything,” the fine print revealed my brand would absorb all reputational liability. When (not if) customers questioned whether Stoic-branded supplements actually delivered on emotional benefits, those complaints would land in my inbox, not theirs. The 2023 Global Supplement Industry Report shows 32% of products face exaggerated claims complaints – odds I wasn’t willing to play with my audience’s trust as chips.
Second, the cognitive dissonance. Ancient Stoics like Marcus Aurelius journaled to achieve clarity; Epictetus used rigorous self-discipline for resilience. Packaging these virtues in pill form contradicts the entire philosophy’s emphasis on internal work. It’s the equivalent of selling “Instant Yoga” capsules – technically possible, spiritually bankrupt.
Finally, the hidden costs. That promised seven figures would come from monetizing the vulnerability of people seeking wisdom. There’s a reason supplement companies target the mindfulness space: emotional pain points convert better than almost anything. As Seneca warned in On the Happy Life, “No good thing is pleasant to possess without friends to share it.” Profits extracted by preying on seekers’ struggles might fatten bank accounts, but they starve the soul.
The salesman’s math wasn’t wrong – just incomplete. Yes, the checks would clear. But the currency? That would cost more than any number with six zeros could cover.
Why I Said ‘No’
The email arrived with the subject line screaming ‘Seven-Figure Opportunity’ in all caps. It promised effortless wealth – just attach my brand to a line of supplements promising ‘stoic calm and clarity,’ and let the money roll in. The sender made it sound so simple, so obvious, that refusing would be professional malpractice. Yet my reply took exactly three words: ‘No, thank you.’
This wasn’t my first dance with lucrative offers that didn’t sit right. Years ago, I declined putting the Daily Stoic logo on mass-produced T-shirts, even when the manufacturer showed projections of six-figure profits. There’s nothing inherently wrong with merchandise, just as there’s nothing wrong with supplements. The issue was how these proposals made me feel – like I’d be trading authenticity for quick cash.
Seneca’s wisdom in ‘On The Happy Life’ echoes through these decisions: ‘No one has condemned wisdom to poverty… but wealth must not be pried from any man’s hands or stained with another’s blood.’ Modern translation? Building wealth ethically means rejecting opportunities that exploit trust or compromise values, even when they come wrapped in seven-figure bows.
What the supplement proposal called ‘easy money,’ I saw as three subtle dangers:
- The Trust Tax: Every branded product carries an invisible withdrawal from your audience’s goodwill. Cheap supplements would have cashed in on credibility built through years of thoughtful content.
- The Slippery Slope: Once you start monetizing peripheral products, the next compromise comes easier. Soon you’re hawking ‘Stoic-branded’ energy drinks or productivity gummies.
- The Identity Crisis: Brands, like people, get defined by what they refuse as much as what they accept. Saying ‘no’ maintains clarity about who you serve and why.
This isn’t anti-commerce – I’ve happily endorsed select products that align with our mission. The distinction lives in that gut feeling when reviewing proposals: Does this collaboration energize me or make me defensive? Would I use this product myself without the financial incentive? Does it solve a real problem or manufacture a need?
Perhaps the most Stoic test came from Marcus Aurelius: ‘Waste no more time arguing what a good person should be. Be one.’ In business terms – stop debating ethical gray areas and build enterprises you can look at in the mirror each morning. The real profit isn’t in your bank statement, but in going to bed knowing your brand’s hands are clean.
That supplement company likely found another partner. Someone who saw dollar signs where I saw compromise. But as my favorite Stoic reminder goes: ‘Wealth consists not in having great possessions, but in having few wants.’ Even if those wants come with seven zeros attached.
The Calm, Clarity, Resilience Mirage
The email’s promise was seductive in its simplicity: three little words that could magically transform my brand into a seven-figure supplement empire. “Calm, clarity, resilience” – the holy trinity of modern wellness marketing, neatly packaged into chewable gummies or maybe a sleek subscription bottle. They’d done their homework, these supplement peddlers. Those words tap directly into the nervous system of anyone navigating our overwhelmed, overstimulated age.
What fascinates me isn’t the transparent attempt to co-opt Stoic philosophy for profit (Marcus Aurelius never needed a turmeric boost to handle his morning scroll through imperial correspondence). It’s how perfectly this pitch exemplifies the emotional alchemy of modern marketing – taking legitimate human desires and convincing us they can be purchased in capsule form. The supplement industry didn’t invent this playbook, but they’ve refined it to near-perfection.
Consider the linguistic jiu-jitsu at work:
- Calm – Not the hard-won tranquility from journaling or meditation, but something you can supposedly swallow with breakfast
- Clarity – Bypassing the messy work of examining your life, offering instead the fantasy of instant mental HD resolution
- Resilience – That most Stoic of virtues, reduced to a monthly auto-shipment of adaptogens
A meditation app I respect recently partnered with a supplement brand, promising users could “enhance their practice” with proprietary mushroom blends. Their community forums lit up with betrayed comments – not because the products were harmful, but because the partnership violated an unspoken covenant. People come to Stoicism (and legitimate mindfulness practices) precisely to escape the cycle of quick fixes and consumerist solutions to existential problems.
There’s an uncomfortable truth beneath the glossy marketing: these products often work exactly as intended – just not in the way the labels claim. The real mechanism isn’t biochemical but psychological. Taking a pill labeled “Focus” primes placebo effects because it externalizes agency. It’s easier to swallow a capsule than to confront why we struggle to concentrate in the first place. That’s the emotional loophole this marketing exploits – our very human desire to outsource hard inner work.
FDA regulations actually encourage this vagueness. While drug claims require rigorous proof, “structure/function” claims for supplements only need to be theoretically plausible. Hence the careful wording: “supports” rather than “creates,” “may help” instead of “will provide.” It’s a linguistic minefield designed to imply benefits without legally guaranteeing them.
What gets lost in this alchemy is the actual wisdom of Stoicism – that calm comes from examining our judgments, clarity from relentless self-honesty, resilience from voluntary discomfort. No tincture or powder can replicate the transformative work of showing up for your life with clear-eyed attention. The ancient Stoics would likely view our era’s supplement obsession as the ultimate distraction – another way to avoid doing the real work of philosophy.
Perhaps the most telling detail? The email mentioned nothing about whether these supplements actually worked. The entire value proposition rested on slapping my brand on the bottle. That silence speaks volumes about where the real profit motive lies – not in delivering results, but in monetizing the gap between who we are and who we wish we could be.
The Values-First Partnership Checklist
The supplement pitch forced me to articulate something I’d been feeling intuitively for years—that not all money is good money. When evaluating opportunities, I’ve developed three litmus tests that go beyond spreadsheets and market projections. These questions might sound simple, but they’ve saved me from costly mistakes that no amount of revenue could fix.
1. Does This Betray My Audience’s Trust?
That supplement company wanted to leverage the credibility I’ve built over thousands of hours of writing and speaking. Their proposed marketing language—”calm, clarity, resilience”—directly borrowed from Stoic concepts we discuss, implying these pills could shortcut the actual work of philosophy. I imagined a reader buying them instead of doing their morning journaling, then feeling doubly disappointed when the promised transformation didn’t materialize. Trust compounds slowly but evaporates quickly.
2. Does This Align With My Brand’s Core Purpose?
Daily Stoic exists to make ancient wisdom practical, not to sell wellness fads. There’s a reason we’ve never done mugs with Marcus Aurelius quotes—it would feel like putting a bumper sticker on Meditations. Contrast this with our premium leather journals, where the stitching pattern mimics a Stoic’s focus on interconnectedness. When considering partnerships, I ask: “Would Seneca recognize this as philosophy in action?”
3. Does This Actually Excite Me?
Here’s the secret they don’t tell you in business school: You’ll do terrible work on projects you resent. The supplement deal made me dread hypothetical team meetings, whereas our silver “Memento Mori” pendants (designed with a former Vatican jeweler) had me sketching ideas during breakfast. Passion isn’t just motivational poster fluff—it’s the difference between creating something remarkable versus something merely profitable.
When “No” Leads to Better Yeses
Turning down that seven-figure offer freed us to develop collaborations that fit like a gladiator’s armor:
- The Antidote Collection: Sterling silver rings engraved with Epictetus’ disciplines (desire, action, assent) that sold out in 72 hours
- The Obstacle Notebook: A bullet journal system based on Marcus Aurelius’ problem-solving framework, now used by Navy SEAL instructors
- The Stoic Salon: An invite-only dinner series where philosophers debate modern dilemmas over ancient recipes
These projects earned less upfront than the supplements would have, but they deepened our community’s engagement in ways no transactional product could. Sometimes the most Stoic business decision is walking away from the easy money to preserve what actually matters.
A downloadable version of this evaluation framework—including red flags to watch for in contracts—is available [here]. Because as Seneca reminds us, wealth is only virtuous when it doesn’t cost you your character.
When Values Outweigh Profit
That seven-figure opportunity still lingers in my inbox like an unopened bottle of supplements – full of promised potential, yet fundamentally mismatched with what I want to nourish. The sales pitch claimed I was leaving money on the table, but some tables aren’t worth sitting at, no matter how lavish the feast appears.
Perhaps you’ve faced similar crossroads. That moment when a lucrative offer tugs at your ambition while your gut whispers warnings. For me, it crystallized when reading Seneca’s observation that wealth needn’t be ‘stained with another man’s blood.’ Modern translation? Revenue shouldn’t come at the cost of your brand’s integrity or your audience’s trust.
Consider the math they didn’t include in their projections:
- The hidden cost of promoting solutions you can’t personally vouch for
- The compound interest of credibility lost when products underdeliver
- The emotional overhead of defending questionable partnerships
Three questions now anchor my decision-making when evaluating collaborations:
- Trust Test: Would I proudly explain this partnership to my most skeptical reader?
- Essence Check: Does this align with why people value my work in the first place?
- Energy Audit: Does discussing this project light me up or drain me?
Their spreadsheet showed seven figures. My calculus revealed different priorities. Because ultimately, the stoic question isn’t ‘Can I make money?’ but ‘Should I?’ – and that distinction makes all the difference.
Your turn: What line won’t you cross for profit? Download our Values-Aligned Partnership Scorecard to pressure-test your next opportunity. As Seneca might say today: True wealth isn’t in your bank balance, but in your ability to say ‘no’ without hesitation.
(Adapted from Seneca’s Letters: ‘No good thing renders its possessor happy unless his mind is reconciled to the possibility of loss.’)
