Roy Hong didn't start out wanting to be an entrepreneur.
Like many of us, he began on a stable path. He was in corporate, predictable, and respectable. Coming from a logistics and shipping background, Roy spent years at an MNC, eventually becoming one of the youngest members of senior management in the Asia-Pacific region.
The pay was good, and the role came with autonomy. On paper, it was everything people work towards. He led a cosy life.
But beneath that stability, a question kept resurfacing.
"How long would this really last?"
Buyouts were common, and businesses changed hands before we could blink. The uncertainty was always there under a comfortable routine. And slowly, Roy realised he had been living in his comfort zone for too long.
The first leap, and the first lesson.
When Roy left corporate, he started a risk management company specialising in cargo insurance.
He didn't own much of the business, but it performed exceptionally well. By the third month, it was already profitable. Within just over a year, the company reached RM1 million in revenue. Six years later, Roy exited the business.
From the outside, it looked like a textbook success. But in hindsight, Roy recognises one of his most significant flaws during this phase: he was too kind.
He trusted easily and believed in people deeply.
And in business, that combination can be dangerous. Being the "nice guy" often means being the one left behind, especially when we give trust without safeguards.
The second business, and the fall.
Roy's second venture brought him back into logistics. Again, the business did well, exceptionally well. So well, in fact, that even his accountant jokingly suggested he "do something" about the taxes.
That success led to celebration, and a tad bit too much of it.
Company trips on yachts, luxury hotels and expensive vehicles. Spending came easily because revenue felt endless. Roy admits now that his company over-celebrated the wins, assuming the momentum would always be there.
It wasn't.
In the second year, a larger company acquired one of his major MNC clients, one that generated close to a million in revenue. Two weeks later, the client exited, just like that.
The hole left behind was massive, and Roy's cash reserves weren't strong enough to absorb the shock.
After payouts, the company bank account had only RM500.
Cashflow collapsed.
Roy chased debtors, shortened credit terms, sold off cars, and even took out a personal loan to keep the business alive. Whatever money came in went straight to paying employees. But it was only enough to last a few months.
That period broke something in him.
His sleep became shallow, and his confidence disappeared. "When you're at your lowest," Roy shared, "you speak the softest." The man who once led boldly now struggled to recognise himself. He felt depressed, and to make matters worse, he became entangled in a legal battle from his first business.
It all compounded.
Recovery doesn't look glamorous.
Roy turned to sports, from cycling, running and even martial arts, to cope. But more than that, it was his family that carried him through. They supported him financially, mentally, and emotionally. Friends stood by him, vouched for him, and reminded him who he was when he couldn't see it himself.
That second business humbled him deeply.
He realised his confidence wasn't something that automatically returned. Roy had to rebuild it. That period wasn't about growth. It was about recovery.
Eventually, Roy and his business partner mutually agreed to exit. It was the end of his second venture, and the quiet beginning of his third.
The third time, with a clear conscience.
This time, Roy started his business with his brother. A specialised logistics company focusing on healthcare, pharmaceuticals, and high-value items.
By then, his understanding of entrepreneurship had changed.
Many people believe entrepreneurship equals freedom, flexible time, autonomy, and control. And yes, those things exist. But what people don't talk about enough is the weight.
The responsibility of not failing, providing for his family and upholding his family name. That weight doesn't switch off. And sometimes, it costs more than money.
It costs health.
When Roy makes hard decisions now, he still listens to his gut. But he has learned not to rely solely on trust and kindness. He filters every decision through a simple but powerful question:
"Will this drain my resources and disturb my sleep?"
If the answer is yes, he steps back, no matter how good it looks on paper.
Whose advice matters, and whose doesn't.
Roy is careful about who he takes advice from. Not based on age, but relevance. He avoids listening to people who are stuck in the past, overly attached to outdated methods, or driven by ego.
In a world that constantly evolves, yesterday's success doesn't guarantee today's wisdom.
Redefining success
Today, Roy is no longer chasing figures just for the sake of it. Sales matter, but they're not his main priority. His focus is on refining processes, building a healthy culture, and developing leaders within his team.
It's still a work in progress, but it's intentional.
What is "enough" for Roy now?
Sustainability, good health and strong family relationships. And a business that continues, not one that burns him out.
A grounded message for those struggling
For entrepreneurs struggling, Roy suggested that one must be realistic about the situation. Inspiration alone isn't going to cut it. You have to look honestly at your resources. If the problem is money, and money alone, and there's no way to resolve it, then it might not be time to be an entrepreneur yet.
Return to the workforce to learn and strategise again. One has to address the current reality first. That's because entrepreneurship isn't about proving something.
It's about surviving long enough to build something that lasts.
