How Rakhesh Martyn did it: 8 Months of Rejection, One Term Sheet He Refused
There's a moment in this episode that stays with you: July 2016, a sink full of dishes at Muriel's Kitchen in central London, and a chartered engineer with seven years of experience looking at his hands and asking, "Jesus Christ, how did we end up back here?" Rakhesh Martyn had moved to London at the end of 2015 to join an energy startup. Six months later he was made redundant — right as the Brexit referendum froze hiring across the industry — and the jobs he was banking on simply never materialised. So he went back to the pub kitchens he'd worked in as a student. No job was beneath him. He just had to work.
That redundancy became the operating system for everything that followed. It forced him to ask, for the first time, not "what is it about my skills" but "what is it about me that makes me employable" — and that reframe ("people buy you, they don't buy your skills — your skills are a commodity") is how he has pitched himself to every investor, employer, and client since. An old colleague pulled him into EDF Energy at the beginning of 2017, and years later, in Australia, he saw the gap that would become Hachiko: in 2024 alone he was personally exposed to around $500 million of battery project capital that went unallocated because investors weren't comfortable the returns would come — a gap he could see software solving from inside the transaction meetings.
So he built it — four months after buying a house in Sydney, at peak interest rates, walking away from a 25–30% pay rise, covering the mortgage with day-rate contracting. Hachiko is a software platform for maximising the financial returns from portfolios of batteries, in an industry where infrastructure investors spend a hundred to two hundred million dollars per transaction and a sale takes 9–12 months from first meeting to contract, then another 12–18 months of construction before first recurring revenue. His first customer was a relationship four years in the making: a man who told him in 2021, in the nicest possible way, "please leave me alone" — then replied to a monthly newsletter years later with "I think you're ready for me now."
And then there's the raise. Starting March 2024, Rakhesh pitched four or five times a week for eight months before his first term sheet — which his lawyer told him wasn't good, and which he decided he would rather not start the company than sign. The worst day came earlier, in August, when a supportive angel called and said: "I haven't called you to have a discussion about this. I called you to tell you that I'm not investing." He kept going. On November 13 he met the right fund; by the 29th — 16 days — he had a term sheet, in a meeting where the investors started pitching his own company back to him. His diagnosis of the eight months of failure is one every early-stage founder should hear: he was solving for the optics instead of telling his own story. At the earliest stage, you — the founder — are the reason they're investing.
This is one of the most candid conversations we've had about rejection, resilience, and what the founder journey actually costs — including why this solo founder, stand-up comedian, and self-described emotional regulator of his company couldn't give less of a shit about Fiji.
What you'll hear
- From chartered engineer to pot wash — six months into a London energy startup job, redundancy hit just as the EU referendum froze the 2016 job market
- "People buy you, they don't buy your skills" — the reframe from the redundancy that became the way Rakhesh pitches himself to every investor, employer, and client
- The $500 million gap — how watching battery projects go unfunded in 2024 pushed him to build the software himself
- A four-year first customer — from "please leave me alone" in 2021 to "I think you're ready for me now," via monthly build-in-public newsletters
- The term sheet he refused — eight months of pitching 4–5 times a week, one offer, and why he'd rather not start the company than sign it
- 16 days to yes — what changed in the story, and what it looks like when investors pitch your company back to you
- Solo founder as emotional regulator — comedy resilience, the executive coach, the founder dinners, and the loneliness you choose
Key claims from this episode
Chapters
Quotes from this episode
I was just looking at a sink full of dishes and I was scrubbing them and I just looked at my hands and went, Jesus Christ, how did we end up back here?
— Rakhesh Martyn, on his July 2016 epiphany at Muriel's Kitchen (02:57) People buy you, they don't buy your skills. Your skills are a commodity.
— Rakhesh Martyn, on the lesson the redundancy taught him (05:48) I felt like I would actually rather not start the company than take that term sheet.
— Rakhesh Martyn, on the only offer after eight months of pitching (15:53) I haven't called you to have a discussion about this. I called you to tell you that I'm not investing.
— An angel investor, as Rakhesh recounts the worst day of his raise (16:38) The idea, the market and everything is gonna change so much. The only thing that's constant is you, the founder.
— Rakhesh Martyn, on what early-stage investors are really buying (19:37) I couldn't give less of a shit about Fiji. I wanna build a company.
— Rakhesh Martyn, on what the founder journey has cost him (22:46)
Themes Rakhesh returns to
- Reinvention through rejection — "the version of you that's being rejected is probably not the right fit for what you're trying to do" — rejection as data, in job hunting, sales, and fundraising alike
- Trust is the sales engine — in energy, the buyer calls your shared connections after you leave the office; never lying, never screwing anyone over, and being open about failures is the moat
- The founder is the constant — solving for optics loses pitches; at the earliest stage you have to make clear why you are an investable resource
- Take risks, manage the downside — starting a company four months after buying a house works if you've secured day-rate contracting that covers the mortgage
- Chosen loneliness — the solo founder as the emotional regulator of the company, supported by an executive coach, a committed partner, and a village of other founders