What We Talk About When We Talk About Profit
Most of us know the difference between revenue and profit:
Revenue is the money that comes in.
Profit is what is left after the bills are paid.
The math is simple. What’s complicated is how we relate to it. We are taught to admire revenue, scale, and volume. We say:
“They’re doing a million in revenue.”
“She sold out her latest collection.”
“He sold 20,000 books.”
But revenue is not the same as success. Revenue is just how much money passes through. It’s a measure of motion, not money you can spend or meaning you can feel. If you cannot keep any of it as profit, it may as well have never come in the door.
Revenue can’t buy groceries, invest in new products, or be saved for the future. You can run a million-dollar business and still lie awake wondering if you will be able to pay yourself.
“Never compare your insides to someone else’s outsides.”
We say we understand the math, but when push comes to shove, many of us still chase revenue more than profit.
Early in my career, I ran a direct-trade coffee company. And you may remember Groupon, with the huge daily deals on things like pizza and a movie for $4. I was thrilled when they approached me. But their required discount meant every sale would be at a loss. When I did the math, I realized it was unlikely I’d gain enough repeat business to make up for what I’d lose. So although I would have seen tens of thousands of dollars in revenue and had the prestige of being “picked,” it wasn’t the right choice.
It’s hard to tell from the outside how the math works inside someone else’s business. Something that looks impressive may actually generate less profit.
Take book publishing:
If you are traditionally published, you might earn around $1 per copy.
If you self-publish, you might earn $5–$8 per copy.
To make the same amount of profit:
You might need to sell 20,000 traditionally published books…
Or only 2,500–4,000 self-published books.
The traditionally published author looks more “impressive.” But the self-published author may be the one who actually pays their mortgage.
The same dynamic happens in indie brands all the time:
A craft fair booth that looks beautiful but barely breaks even.
A wholesale account with a big-name store that actually erodes your margins.
A product launch with big revenue but enormous expenses and stress.
Sometimes the most profitable product is the one that is the least impressive. Sometimes the most profitable version of a business is the smallest one.
Revenue is about movement. Profit is about spaciousness.
Profit shows up through many consistent, quiet, unglamorous decisions:
Cutting products that take too much time or money to make, even if they are beloved.
Choosing systems that are sturdy and calm instead of flashy and expensive.
Saying no to projects, expansions, or tools that will not earn their keep.
And here’s the part we rarely talk about: profit isn’t only created by selling more. Often, it is created by needing less.
Yes, in a business, lower costs mean more profit at the same revenue. But the same is true personally. The lower your cost of living, the more “profit” you have in your life to save, to spend on joy, to invest in what matters.
Profit can be deeper than dollars.
There is a kind of profit deeper than dollars:
The profit of creative satisfaction.
The profit of energy.
The profit of having yourself left at the end of the day.
And profit can include the wider world as well. Not just what remains for you, but what remains for the community, the suppliers, the ecosystem around you. A business can be profitable and still extract from everything and everyone it touches. Or it can circulate value: paying fairly, strengthening relationships, contributing to the health of a neighborhood or craft lineage.
Which is why what we are seeking is not a revenue machine. What we are seeking is a business that leaves you with enough:
Enough money to pay yourself reliably.
Low enough personal expenses that some of that money stays with you.
Enough time to rest and live a life that feels like yours.
Enough steadiness in your nervous system to be present in your own days.
Enough balanced value creation that the world is left better than when your business started.
A business is not successful if it consumes the person who runs it. A business is successful if it truly profits you and the world, makes your days better, and nourishes the part of you that makes the work worth doing. That’s profit — and it’s worth it.