Thanks to its somewhat whimsical yet measurement-driven culture, its unusual customer-funded business model, and its committed community of winemakers and wine 'angels', NakedWines had grown rapidly, from a standing start in 2008 to a substantial presence in three of the world's most attractive markets for wine - the United Kingdom, Australia, and the United States. Now, however, in September 2014, it was becoming clear that the company's long-time principal investor WIV was no longer able to fund Naked's future growth. Assembled in the Birthday Suit conference room in the company's office in Napa, California, were the key individuals who had brought the company to this juncture. Founder and CEO Rowan Gormley, co-founder and IT Head Derek Hardy, COO and American Managing Director Benoit Vialle, Australian CEO Luke Jecks, UK Managing Director Eamon Fitzgerald, Chief Financial Officer James Crawford, Chief Winemaker Matt Parish, and board member and CEO of WIV Andres Ruff, had gathered to decide what they should do about this difficulty. They had spent the morning developing a set of criteria for choosing among the various alternative ways forward. The afternoon's agenda was clear, to determine a strategy for continuing to fund the company's growth. Should they seek a private equity investor? Should they ask their customers - the band of nearly 300,000 'angels', as they called them, whose monthly subscriptions funded Naked's winemakers - to buy a stake in the business, or even pursue an independent public offering (IPO) of the company's shares? Should they seek a trade investor? Or should they wait, doing nothing for now, and maintain the status quo until the time for one of the other moves made more sense? By the end of the afternoon, the group had agreed, they would reach a decision on a strategy for financing the continued growth of the business.

Supplement to case LBS124. This is part of a case series. John Erceg was in a quandary. It was a sunny spring day in Barcelona in April 2010, and he'd been negotiating for several weeks with a possible buyer for the company that he'd created from scratch and built over the past seven years. Apart from buying two Barcelona apartments that got him started - thanks to his then girlfriend and now wife Lucia's good credit and a couple of hefty mortgages - and apart from maxing out a couple of credit cards in the early days and personally funding small losses in the early years, Erceg had not invested a single euro in an online travel agency business for which he had just been offered 17.3 million euros. The offer from GoTravelNow had come as a complete surprise. EnGrande, as Budgetplaces' corporate entity was called, was growing fast and was highly profitable, and Erceg wasn't sure what to do. After weeks of negotiations, he had managed to improve the cash portion of the offer to 8.5 million euros. 'A life-changing amount of security for seven years worth of work,' he thought. Should he take the offer that was on the table? It was time to decide.

Supplement to case LBS124. This is part of a case series. John Erceg was in a quandary. It was a sunny spring day in Barcelona in April 2010, and he'd been negotiating for several weeks with a possible buyer for the company that he'd created from scratch and built over the past seven years. Apart from buying two Barcelona apartments that got him started - thanks to his then girlfriend and now wife Lucia's good credit and a couple of hefty mortgages - and apart from maxing out a couple of credit cards in the early days and personally funding small losses in the early years, Erceg had not invested a single euro in an online travel agency business for which he had just been offered 17.3 million euros. The offer from GoTravelNow had come as a complete surprise. EnGrande, as Budgetplaces' corporate entity was called, was growing fast and was highly profitable, and Erceg wasn't sure what to do. After weeks of negotiations, he had managed to improve the cash portion of the offer to 8.5 million euros. 'A life-changing amount of security for seven years worth of work,' he thought. Should he take the offer that was on the table? It was time to decide.

This is part of a case series. John Erceg was in a quandary. It was a sunny spring day in Barcelona in April 2010, and he'd been negotiating for several weeks with a possible buyer for the company that he'd created from scratch and built over the past seven years. Apart from buying two Barcelona apartments that got him started - thanks to his then girlfriend and now wife Lucia's good credit and a couple of hefty mortgages - and apart from maxing out a couple of credit cards in the early days and personally funding small losses in the early years, Erceg had not invested a single euro in an online travel agency business for which he had just been offered 17.3 million euros. The offer from GoTravelNow had come as a complete surprise. EnGrande, as Budgetplaces' corporate entity was called, was growing fast and was highly profitable, and Erceg wasn't sure what to do. After weeks of negotiations, he had managed to improve the cash portion of the offer to 8.5 million euros. 'A life-changing amount of security for seven years worth of work,' he thought. Should he take the offer that was on the table? It was time to decide.

This is part of a case series. Simon Cohen parked his Acura SUV outside his Monterrey office, let the fingerprint scanner check his ID to open the door, and jogged upstairs past the huge poster showing containers and cranes at the port of Manzanillo. He paused for a moment in the company's boardroom. Here, a week earlier he had agreed with his business partners how they would restructure the company's ownership, and build on the success of the last 10 years. 'How could Thomas change his mind?' he wondered. Simon shook his head and strode into his office, wondering what to do. Over the previous 10 years, Simon and his three business partners - his brother Jose, Manfred Jaekel and Thomas Kroeger - had built up a successful freight forwarding business, with offices in Monterrey and Guadalajara. Manfred and Thomas ran their own separate, and longer-established branch in Mexico City. Simon had won some large, multinational customers, and had benefited from the increase in imports from China. By focusing on customer service, and by building up a hard-working team, he had grown bigger than the original Mexico City operation. There had been some friction over the years, but Manfred had proposed combining the companies into a group, and after some negotiation a verbal agreement had been struck on 15 August 2007. But, a week later, Thomas had phoned to say that he would not go ahead with the deal they had agreed. Simon was forced to reconsider his options.

Supplement to case LBS119. This is part of a case series. Simon Cohen parked his Acura SUV outside his Monterrey office, let the fingerprint scanner check his ID to open the door, and jogged upstairs past the huge poster showing containers and cranes at the port of Manzanillo. He paused for a moment in the company's boardroom. Here, a week earlier he had agreed with his business partners how they would restructure the company's ownership, and build on the success of the last 10 years. 'How could Thomas change his mind?' he wondered. Simon shook his head and strode into his office, wondering what to do. Over the previous 10 years, Simon and his three business partners - his brother Jose, Manfred Jaekel and Thomas Kroeger - had built up a successful freight forwarding business, with offices in Monterrey and Guadalajara. Manfred and Thomas ran their own separate, and longer-established branch in Mexico City. Simon had won some large, multinational customers, and had benefited from the increase in imports from China. By focusing on customer service, and by building up a hard-working team, he had grown bigger than the original Mexico City operation. There had been some friction over the years, but Manfred had proposed combining the companies into a group, and after some negotiation a verbal agreement had been struck on 15 August 2007. But, a week later, Thomas had phoned to say that he would not go ahead with the deal they had agreed. Simon was forced to reconsider his options.

Supplement to case LBS119. This is part of a case series. Simon Cohen parked his Acura SUV outside his Monterrey office, let the fingerprint scanner check his ID to open the door, and jogged upstairs past the huge poster showing containers and cranes at the port of Manzanillo. He paused for a moment in the company's boardroom. Here, a week earlier he had agreed with his business partners how they would restructure the company's ownership, and build on the success of the last 10 years. 'How could Thomas change his mind?' he wondered. Simon shook his head and strode into his office, wondering what to do. Over the previous 10 years, Simon and his three business partners - his brother Jose, Manfred Jaekel and Thomas Kroeger - had built up a successful freight forwarding business, with offices in Monterrey and Guadalajara. Manfred and Thomas ran their own separate, and longer-established branch in Mexico City. Simon had won some large, multinational customers, and had benefited from the increase in imports from China. By focusing on customer service, and by building up a hard-working team, he had grown bigger than the original Mexico City operation. There had been some friction over the years, but Manfred had proposed combining the companies into a group, and after some negotiation a verbal agreement had been struck on 15 August 2007. But, a week later, Thomas had phoned to say that he would not go ahead with the deal they had agreed. Simon was forced to reconsider his options.

Supplement to case LBS119. This is part of a case series. Simon Cohen parked his Acura SUV outside his Monterrey office, let the fingerprint scanner check his ID to open the door, and jogged upstairs past the huge poster showing containers and cranes at the port of Manzanillo. He paused for a moment in the company's boardroom. Here, a week earlier he had agreed with his business partners how they would restructure the company's ownership, and build on the success of the last 10 years. 'How could Thomas change his mind?' he wondered. Simon shook his head and strode into his office, wondering what to do. Over the previous 10 years, Simon and his three business partners - his brother Jose, Manfred Jaekel and Thomas Kroeger - had built up a successful freight forwarding business, with offices in Monterrey and Guadalajara. Manfred and Thomas ran their own separate, and longer-established branch in Mexico City. Simon had won some large, multinational customers, and had benefited from the increase in imports from China. By focusing on customer service, and by building up a hard-working team, he had grown bigger than the original Mexico City operation. There had been some friction over the years, but Manfred had proposed combining the companies into a group, and after some negotiation a verbal agreement had been struck on 15 August 2007. But, a week later, Thomas had phoned to say that he would not go ahead with the deal they had agreed. Simon was forced to reconsider his options.

This is part of a case series. 'Everyone says entrepreneurship is about risk-taking. But it's not: it's about minimising risks and taking careful risks.' Terry Rhodes' own words resonated with him as he reflected on the most critical decision of his career at Celtel International. Since its inception in March 1998, Celtel, a wireless service provider, set out to change the way business was done in Africa and to prove the transformative effects business could have on the continent and its people. Rhodes, Co-Founder and Chief Strategy Officer of Celtel, had successfully mitigated the risks and overcome the challenges that deterred other businesses from investing in and contributing to the region. 'We were lucky that our business - mobile telecommunications - was seen as raising money in the West to bring to Africa and build infrastructure,' he explained. As Celtel expanded and moved into more and more markets across Sub-Saharan Africa, its corporate values were continually tested. Up until now, Rhodes had managed to avert corrupt situations using simple but creative tactics. However, the market entry into Guinea in late 1999 had posed a different story. Despite his multiple efforts, negotiations with the Guinean government were now at a standstill and it had become clear to Rhodes that the government expected substantial bribery payments for the deal to move forward. It was now late September 2001 and to add to the dire situation, Celtel's CFO had informed him that losing the Guinea deal might lead the company towards bankruptcy. Rhodes now sat outside the door of the boardroom, waiting to be called in and present his recommendation to the Board concerning the Guinea deal. As he reflected on his available options, Rhodes knew he would have to defend his decision to the Board and would need their full support.

This is an MIT Sloan Management Review article. Nearly every aspiring entrepreneur or innovator has a business plan, and virtually all of these individuals believe that their business plan -- what we call Plan A -- will work. They can probably even imagine how they'll look on the cover of Fortune or Inc. And they are usually wrong. But what separates the ultimate successes from the rest is what they do when their first plan sputters. Do they lick their wounds, get back on their feet and morph their new insights into great businesses, or do they stick to their original plan? If the founders of Google, Starbucks or PayPal had stuck to their original business plans, we'd likely never have heard of them. Instead, they made radical changes to their initial models, became household names and delivered huge returns for themselves and their investors. How did they get from their Plan A to a business model that worked? Why did they succeed when most new ventures crash and burn?

Supplement to case LBS116. This is part of a case series. 'Everyone says entrepreneurship is about risk-taking. But it's not: it's about minimising risks and taking careful risks.' Terry Rhodes' own words resonated with him as he reflected on the most critical decision of his career at Celtel International. Since its inception in March 1998, Celtel, a wireless service provider, set out to change the way business was done in Africa and to prove the transformative effects business could have on the continent and its people. Rhodes, Co-Founder and Chief Strategy Officer of Celtel, had successfully mitigated the risks and overcome the challenges that deterred other businesses from investing in and contributing to the region. 'We were lucky that our business - mobile telecommunications - was seen as raising money in the West to bring to Africa and build infrastructure,' he explained. As Celtel expanded and moved into more and more markets across Sub-Saharan Africa, its corporate values were continually tested. Up until now, Rhodes had managed to avert corrupt situations using simple but creative tactics. However, the market entry into Guinea in late 1999 had posed a different story. Despite his multiple efforts, negotiations with the Guinean government were now at a standstill and it had become clear to Rhodes that the government expected substantial bribery payments for the deal to move forward. It was now late September 2001 and to add to the dire situation, Celtel's CFO had informed him that losing the Guinea deal might lead the company towards bankruptcy. Rhodes now sat outside the door of the boardroom, waiting to be called in and present his recommendation to the Board concerning the Guinea deal. As he reflected on his available options, Rhodes knew he would have to defend his decision to the Board and would need their full support.

Supplement to case LBS113. This is the first of a two-case series (808-040-1 and 808-041-1). From a rocky perch above the city of Boulder, Colorado, Jon Thorne gazed across the city and onto the great plains that stretched eastward before him. 'There's nothing like a vigorous mountain bike ride into the hills,' Thorne thought, 'when crucial decisions have to be deliberated.' It was a summer afternoon in 1999, and Thorne had devoted much of the past three years developing and taking to market a surgical instrument that he thought had the potential to significantly improve surgical practice. Though the feedback from surgeons had been excellent, Thorne's company, Silverglide Surgical Technologies, Inc, had little to show for his efforts. The $80,000 in start-up capital that Thorne had raised was nearly gone and his company's sales to date 'rounded to zero,' as a member of his advisory board had remarked at a board meeting earlier that week. Was it time to broaden his company's market focus from plastic surgeons into other surgical specialities? Was it time to abandon the probe and develop a new product line? Or should he abandon his entrepreneurial dream and return to a salaried job in the medical products industry from which he had come?

This is the first of a two-case series (808-040-1 and 808-041-1). From a rocky perch above the city of Boulder, Colorado, Jon Thorne gazed across the city and onto the great plains that stretched eastward before him. 'There's nothing like a vigorous mountain bike ride into the hills,' Thorne thought, 'when crucial decisions have to be deliberated.' It was a summer afternoon in 1999, and Thorne had devoted much of the past three years developing and taking to market a surgical instrument that he thought had the potential to significantly improve surgical practice. Though the feedback from surgeons had been excellent, Thorne's company, Silverglide Surgical Technologies, Inc, had little to show for his efforts. The $80,000 in start-up capital that Thorne had raised was nearly gone and his company's sales to date 'rounded to zero,' as a member of his advisory board had remarked at a board meeting earlier that week. Was it time to broaden his company's market focus from plastic surgeons into other surgical specialities? Was it time to abandon the probe and develop a new product line? Or should he abandon his entrepreneurial dream and return to a salaried job in the medical products industry from which he had come?

Christian Harbinson, a young associate at the venture capital firm Scharfstein Weekes, has a difficult decision to make before the next investment committee meeting. He's been watching over SW's investment in Seven Peaks Technologies, and sales of its single product have been disappointing. Now the company's head, Jack Brandon, wants another $400,000 to pursue a new product. Harbinson believes in Brandon and in his proprietary technology--a titanium alloy that prevents surgical instruments from sticking to tissue. Three years ago, Brandon quit his job and put $65,000 of his savings into developing a nonstick cauterizing device. Two distributors offered to carry it after they saw his demonstration at a trade show, and a couple of surgeons, quickly becoming enthusiastic, promised testimonials. But if Brandon's cauterizer is to take off, surgeons will have to abandon the forceps they've traditionally used and switch to the Seven Peaks device--a change in behavior that will come slowly if at all. So, Brandon thinks, why not adapt his alloy to a line of forceps? Now Harbinson wonders if he himself has become emotionally overinvested in Seven Peaks and if this decision is as much a test of his VC potential as of the actual deal. Should Scharfstein Weekes back Brandon's company with a second round of funding, or would it be a case of throwing good money after bad? Commenting on this fictional case study in R0703A and R0703Z are Ivan Farneti, a partner with Doughty Hanson Technology Ventures; Fred Hassan, the chairman and CEO of Schering-Plough; Robert M. Johnson, a venture partner with Delta Partners and a visiting professor at the University of Navarro's IESE Business School; and Christoph Zott, an associate professor of entrepreneurship at Insead.

Christian Harbinson, a young associate at the venture capital firm Scharfstein Weekes, has a difficult decision to make before the next investment committee meeting. He's been watching over SW's investment in Seven Peaks Technologies, and sales of its single product have been disappointing. Now the company's head, Jack Brandon, wants another $400,000 to pursue a new product. Harbinson believes in Brandon and in his proprietary technology--a titanium alloy that prevents surgical instruments from sticking to tissue. Three years ago, Brandon quit his job and put $65,000 of his savings into developing a nonstick cauterizing device. Two distributors offered to carry it after they saw his demonstration at a trade show, and a couple of surgeons, quickly becoming enthusiastic, promised testimonials. But if Brandon's cauterizer is to take off, surgeons will have to abandon the forceps they've traditionally used and switch to the Seven Peaks device--a change in behavior that will come slowly if at all. So, Brandon thinks, why not adapt his alloy to a line of forceps? Now Harbinson wonders if he himself has become emotionally overinvested in Seven Peaks and if this decision is as much a test of his VC potential as of the actual deal. Should Scharfstein Weekes back Brandon's company with a second round of funding, or would it be a case of throwing good money after bad? Commenting on this fictional case study in R0703A and R0703Z are Ivan Farneti, a partner with Doughty Hanson Technology Ventures; Fred Hassan, the chairman and CEO of Schering-Plough; Robert M. Johnson, a venture partner with Delta Partners and a visiting professor at the University of Navarro's IESE Business School; and Christoph Zott, an associate professor of entrepreneurship at Insead.

Christian Harbinson, a young associate at the venture capital firm Scharfstein Weekes, has a difficult decision to make before the next investment committee meeting. He's been watching over SW's investment in Seven Peaks Technologies, and sales of its single product have been disappointing. Now the company's head, Jack Brandon, wants another $400,000 to pursue a new product. Harbinson believes in Brandon and in his proprietary technology--a titanium alloy that prevents surgical instruments from sticking to tissue. Three years ago, Brandon quit his job and put $65,000 of his savings into developing a nonstick cauterizing device. Two distributors offered to carry it after they saw his demonstration at a trade show, and a couple of surgeons, quickly becoming enthusiastic, promised testimonials. But if Brandon's cauterizer is to take off, surgeons will have to abandon the forceps they've traditionally used and switch to the Seven Peaks device--a change in behavior that will come slowly if at all. So, Brandon thinks, why not adapt his alloy to a line of forceps? Now Harbinson wonders if he himself has become emotionally overinvested in Seven Peaks and if this decision is as much a test of his VC potential as of the actual deal. Should Scharfstein Weekes back Brandon's company with a second round of funding, or would it be a case of throwing good money after bad? Commenting on this fictional case study in R0703A and R0703Z are Ivan Farneti, a partner with Doughty Hanson Technology Ventures; Fred Hassan, the chairman and CEO of Schering-Plough; Robert M. Johnson, a venture partner with Delta Partners and a visiting professor at the University of Navarro's IESE Business School; and Christoph Zott, an associate professor of entrepreneurship at Insead.

These days, entrepreneurs and managers in growing companies find themselves searching for cash to fund their growth. A surprisingly good but often neglected place to look for it lies right under their noses--on the company's balance sheet. Finding hidden cash on a balance sheet by using some simple analyses beats going hat-in-hand to the bank. The analyses here also provide metrics that everyone in the company--from sales manager to accounting clerk--can understand and use. Best of all, the only things you'll need are last month's financials, a calculator, and a cocktail napkin.

Petrolink's business plan looks like a winner. At present, the only available pipeline for operators in the Baltic Sea's newly developed Helmark gas field is owned and operated by the Russian oil and gas company Gazprom. Petrolink's founders believe that the company that opens a new pipeline should find ready customers among the field's numerous independent producers. The Petrolink team has been talking with two potential investors. After six weeks of due diligence, London Development Partners--a large, well-established venture capital firm with no experience in the gas business--offers a relatively small early round of investment without any tangible commitments to future rounds, far from what the team had hoped for. Polish venture capital firm BRX Capital has been in business fewer than five years, but it has already made investments in the Eastern European oil and gas industry. BRX agrees to the capital structure that Petrolink proposes, and to invest both the first- and second-round equity amounts. One of the start-up's main objectives has been to ensure that no one investor has too much clout, so the BRX arrangement suits them. But now that a four million eurodollar check is on the table, there's been an apparent breach of trust by the Polish VC. Petrolink's founders discover that an agreed-upon provision covering ownership dilution has been changed. Should they take BRX's money or go elsewhere? In R0411A and R0411Z, George Brenkert of Georgetown University; Sonia Lo of Chalsys Partners; William Sahlman of Harvard Business School; and Charalambos Vlachoutsicos, adviser to 7L Capital Partners Emerging Europe, comment on this fictional case.

Petrolink's business plan looks like a winner. At present, the only available pipeline for operators in the Baltic Sea's newly developed Helmark gas field is owned and operated by the Russian oil and gas company Gazprom. Petrolink's founders believe that the company that opens a new pipeline should find ready customers among the field's numerous independent producers. The Petrolink team has been talking with two potential investors. After six weeks of due diligence, London Development Partners--a large, well-established venture capital firm with no experience in the gas business--offers a relatively small early round of investment without any tangible commitments to future rounds, far from what the team had hoped for. Polish venture capital firm BRX Capital has been in business fewer than five years, but it has already made investments in the Eastern European oil and gas industry. BRX agrees to the capital structure that Petrolink proposes, and to invest both the first- and second-round equity amounts. One of the start-up's main objectives has been to ensure that no one investor has too much clout, so the BRX arrangement suits them. But now that a four million eurodollar check is on the table, there's been an apparent breach of trust by the Polish VC. Petrolink's founders discover that an agreed-upon provision covering ownership dilution has been changed. Should they take BRX's money or go elsewhere? Commenting on this fictional case study in R0411A and R0411Z are George Brenkert of Georgetown University; Sonia Lo of Chalsys Partners; William Sahlman of Harvard Business School; and Charalambos Vlachoutsicos, adviser to 7L Capital Partners Emerging Europe.

Petrolink's business plan looks like a winner. At present, the only available pipeline for operators in the Baltic Sea's newly developed Helmark gas field is owned and operated by the Russian oil and gas company Gazprom. Petrolink's founders believe that the company that opens a new pipeline should find ready customers among the field's numerous independent producers. The Petrolink team has been talking with two potential investors. After six weeks of due diligence, London Development Partners--a large, well-established venture capital firm with no experience in the gas business--offers a relatively small early round of investment without any tangible commitments to future rounds, far from what the team had hoped for. Polish venture capital firm BRX Capital has been in business fewer than five years, but it has already made investments in the Eastern European oil and gas industry. BRX agrees to the capital structure that Petrolink proposes, and to invest both the first- and second-round equity amounts. One of the start-up's main objectives has been to ensure that no one investor has too much clout, so the BRX arrangement suits them. But now that a four million eurodollar check is on the table, there's been an apparent breach of trust by the Polish VC. Petrolink's founders discover that an agreed-upon provision covering ownership dilution has been changed. Should they take BRX's money or go elsewhere? Commenting on this fictional case study in R0411A and R0411Z are George Brenkert of Georgetown University; Sonia Lo of Chalsys Partners; William Sahlman of Harvard Business School; and Charalambos Vlachoutsicos, adviser to 7L Capital Partners Emerging Europe.