So it goes, dear reader, with the peculiar mathematics of modern commerce: a man can make more money in three days than most kingdoms once held in their treasuries, and he can do it while having what appears to be the time of his life.
Picture this scene, if you will—a weekend that began like any other Saturday morning but ended with the kind of numbers that would make Midas himself reach for his calculator twice. Alex Hormozi, the well known and loved entrepreneur and author (amongst other things), generated one hundred and five million dollars. Not over a fiscal year, not through some elaborate merger, but in the span of time it takes most folks to binge-watch a Netflix series and complain about having nothing to do.
Now, before you start thinking this is another one of those “get rich quick” fairy tales that populate the darker corners of the internet like digital snake oil, let me assure you—this story is different. This is about the curious alchemy of turning business into performance art, and how the very act of enjoying the process of making money might just be the most radical business strategy of our time.
The Great Apology Epidemic
Here’s something that would make both P.T. Barnum weep and Andrew Carnegie roll in his gilded grave: most people in business today apologize for the very thing they’re trying to do. They mumble about revenue like they’re confessing to a misdemeanor. They hedge their asks with so many qualifiers that by the time they finish their pitch, even they’ve forgotten what they were selling.
But what if—and stay with me here—making money was actually fun? What if the entire enterprise of commerce could be transformed from a grim march through quarterly projections into something resembling a jazz performance where everyone’s invited to dance?
Hormozi’s weekend in question proved a simple but revolutionary theorem: confidence is contagious, and joy is the ultimate sales accelerant. When you stop apologizing for creating value and start celebrating it, something magical happens. People don’t just buy your product—they buy your enthusiasm about your product.
This isn’t about manipulation or forced charisma. It’s about the fundamental truth that if you don’t believe your offering can change someone’s life, why should they.
The Network Effect (Or: Why Your Grandmother Was Right About Being Nice)
Now, here’s where the story gets interesting from a strategic standpoint. Months before this particular weekend generated enough revenue to fund a small space program, the groundwork was being laid through what business schools might pompously call “relationship capital development.” The rest of us call it “not being a jerk when you don’t need anything.”
The mathematics are beautifully simple: build relationships when you’re not desperate, and they’ll be there when you are ambitious.
This isn’t networking in the business-card-shuffling, elevator-pitch sense. This is about genuine connection, mutual respect, and the radical idea that helping others succeed might actually be good for business. Revolutionary, I know.
When launch day arrived, it wasn’t one person standing on a digital stage shouting into the void. It was an ecosystem of trust, built over time, activating simultaneously. The lesson here cuts to the bone of modern business: your network isn’t just an asset—it’s your unfair advantage in a world where everyone has access to the same tools and information.
The Death of the Lone Wolf Fantasy
Here’s where we need to have a serious conversation about heroes and why they’re bad for business.
The American dream has been hijacked by this ridiculous notion that success means doing it all yourself, that asking for help is somehow cheating, that delegation is weakness. This is not just wrong—it’s strategically stupid.
Teams win. Heroes lose. The math is that simple.
The weekend in question wasn’t the result of one person’s genius—it was the synchronized execution of dozens of professionals, each handling their piece of a complex orchestra. Production teams, tech integration specialists, affiliate coordinators, content creators, customer service representatives—all moving in harmony toward a single objective.
The lone wolf dies alone in the forest. The pack takes down the mammoth and feeds the entire village.
Your ego is not your competitive advantage. Your ability to assemble, inspire, and coordinate talent is.
The Trust Economy (And Why Free Is the Most Expensive Thing You Can Give Away)
Here’s something that will make your accountant nervous: the most valuable thing you can do in business is give away your best work for free. For years. To hundreds of thousands of people. Without asking for anything in return.
This sounds insane until you understand the economics of trust.
Trust is the ultimate currency in an attention economy. Hormozi had been building this currency for years. Half a million people didn’t suddenly decide to pay attention to a weekend launch. They had been receiving value, learning, growing, and transforming through free content for months and years.
When you give first—genuinely, consistently, without expectation—you create something more valuable than any product: you create believers.
When the invitation came to invest in something bigger, it wasn’t a sales pitch—it was a natural evolution of an existing relationship.
Your audience isn’t buying your product. They’re buying more of what you’ve already proven you can deliver.
The Evidence Economy
People don’t buy strategies. They buy proof that strategies work.
In a world saturated with theoretical frameworks and academic concepts, the most powerful sales tool isn’t your methodology—it’s your track record. Alex’s gym turnarounds, portfolio companies, and transparent sharing of failures created something more valuable than any sales pitch. If wasn’t just the successes, but the failures that led to the successes. Not just the theory, but the messy, complicated, human reality of implementation.
Show, don’t tell. Results speak louder than rhetoric.
This means documenting your journey, sharing your experiments, being transparent about what works and what doesn’t. It means turning your business into a case study that others can learn from and, eventually, invest in.
The Smallness Epidemic
Here’s where we need to address the elephant in the room: most people fail because they think too small. Not just in terms of revenue targets, but in imagination, scope, and possibility.
While others plan one-hour presentations, think three days of immersive experience. While others price at commodity levels, consider premium positioning that reflects true value. While others hope for incremental improvement, design for exponential impact.
Small thinking creates small results. The universe tends to give you exactly what you expect from it.
This isn’t about unrealistic expectations or delusional thinking. This is about understanding that in a world where information travels at light speed and markets are global, the old rules of scarcity don’t apply. The only real limitations are the ones you accept.
The Engineering of Miracles
Perhaps the most important lesson from this particular weekend is that extraordinary results don’t happen by accident. Hormozi didn’t accidentally break world records. They were designed, planned, and executed with the precision of a Swiss watchmaker and the creativity of a jazz musician.
Success is engineered, not accidental.
This means treating your business like both a science experiment and an art project. Hypothesis, test, measure, adjust. But also: create, inspire, move, transform.
It means understanding that breaking records isn’t just about hitting numbers—it’s about breaking limiting beliefs. When you demonstrate what’s possible, you don’t just change your own trajectory; you change the trajectory of everyone watching.
The Practical Magic
So what does this mean for your business, your career, your next Monday morning?
Start enjoying the process of creating value. If you’re not excited about what you’re building, no one else will be either.
Invest in relationships before you need them. Send that email, make that introduction, offer that help—when there’s nothing in it for you.
Build teams, not monuments to your ego. Surround yourself with people who are better than you at the things you’re worst at.
Give away your best work. Trust that value given freely returns multiplied.
Document everything. Your successes, your failures, your learning process—it’s all data that builds credibility.
Think bigger. Whatever you’re planning, double it. Then double it again.
Engineer your success. Plan for extraordinary results with the same attention you’d give to planning a dinner party.
The Weekend That Changed Everything
In the end, this story isn’t really about one weekend or one person or even one spectacular number. It’s about the possibility that exists when you stop apologizing for creating value and start celebrating it. When you stop thinking small and start engineering impossibility.
It’s about the radical idea that business can be both profitable and joyful, strategic and generous, systematic and creative.
Most importantly, it’s about understanding that your dreams aren’t too big—they’re too small. And in a world where anything is possible, the only real failure is failing to imagine what could be.
So it goes, dear reader, with the mathematics of modern miracles: they’re not miracles at all. They’re just Monday morning possibilities disguised as weekend impossibilities, waiting for someone brave enough to engineer them into reality.
The question isn’t whether extraordinary results are possible. The question is whether you’re ready to stop thinking like they’re not.
Ready to engineer your own impossibilities? The frameworks and principles behind billion-dollar transformations aren’t secret—they’re systematic. Start applying these strategies to your business today, and discover what becomes possible when you stop apologizing for greatness and start systematically creating it.
Josh Nash 
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