We were lucky to catch up with Itay Forer recently and have shared our conversation below.

Itay, thanks for taking the time to share your stories with us today Risk taking is something we’re really interested in and we’d love to hear the story of a risk you’ve taken.

One of the biggest and most defining risks I’ve taken in my life was walking away from everything that seemed “right” on paper—security, title, salary, and lifestyle—to pursue something that, to most people, sounded trivial.

In 2013, I was living in New York City and working as the Director of Internal Operations at a high-end fashion company. I managed a team of 15, had a great apartment in Manhattan, and was making a solid six-figure salary—at a time when that really meant something. For most people around me, I had “made it.” But deep inside, I was restless. I wasn’t miserable—but I wasn’t lit up either. I was craving something more meaningful, more challenging, and more aligned with the builder in me.

At the same time, my close friend Tom and I were regularly meeting up in Bryant Park, just to catch up and decompress. And we kept coming back to one problem—something that seemed small at first, but was clearly driving both of us crazy: laundry.

We were both busy professionals, working long hours, living in a city where over 80% of apartments don’t have washers and dryers. Doing laundry felt like this unnecessary weekly pain. Even the so-called “solutions”—local drop-offs or laundromats—were slow, inconsistent, and frustrating. We were wasting hours every week just trying to keep our clothes clean. It sounds mundane, but it was a real drag on our time and mental bandwidth.

Eventually, we stopped complaining and got curious. On weekends, we started visiting laundromats and dry cleaners all over the city—hundreds of them. We weren’t thinking of building a company at first. We just wanted to understand the system, to see if there was a better way.

Somewhere in those dusty back rooms and fluorescent-lit shops, something clicked. We weren’t the only ones with this pain. There was a massive gap between how people wanted to manage their time—and how this basic chore was eating it up.

We decided to build something that made laundry and dry cleaning completely effortless. A simple app that would allow people to schedule a pickup and drop-off within a 1-hour window, 7 days a week. You’d get your clothes back the next day, perfectly cleaned and folded. But behind the scenes, it required a complex operational system: drivers, routes, vendors, logistics, timing. We built it all from scratch.

We used Eric Ries’ *Lean Startup* method to test early versions while still working full-time. We interviewed dozens of people, ran small tests, brought on a technical co-founder, and built a super basic MVP. We used our own money—no investors. We made a decision: by the end of July 2012, we’d all give our notice.

That was the real moment of risk. I was in a very good place professionally, in a respected role, with stability, status, and a future. But something in me knew that if I didn’t take this chance, I’d regret it. Not because I thought we’d be rich—but because I knew this was my path.

So I quit. Gave up my paycheck, my team, and the safety of a known career for the chaos of a bootstrapped startup trying to fix laundry.

Those first years were brutal. I’d sleep 3-4 hours a night. I made deliveries myself, ran operations, handled support, worked on the app—all of it. I went from being an executive to folding laundry in a basement. But it felt alive. It felt mine. And the challenge of building something from 0 to 1 gave me energy like nothing else.

Eventually, things started to click. We were accepted into Y Combinator, raised over $20 million, expanded into cities across the U.S., and grew to over 400 employees. In 2020, we merged with a strategic partner, and I transitioned into a board role. The company is now profitable and continuing to expand—even internationally.

Looking back, quitting that job was the leap that changed everything.

And I’ve realized the real risk wasn’t leaving something safe—it was ignoring the voice that told me I was meant for something more.

This story isn’t about laundry. It’s about listening to your discomfort, following your curiosity, and trusting that if something keeps calling you—it’s probably worth answering.

Now, as a coach and mentor to other founders, I try to help them find that same internal compass. Because risk isn’t about reckless decisions—it’s about alignment. It’s about moving toward who you’re meant to be.

And for me, it started with a pile of laundry.

Great, appreciate you sharing that with us. Before we ask you to share more of your insights, can you take a moment to introduce yourself and how you got to where you are today to our readers.

My name is Itay Forer. I’m a father of three, a deliberate optimist, and a builder by nature. I’ve been an entrepreneur, mentor, and coach for over 18 years—but the truth is, I’ve been building things since I was a kid. In high school, I started my first business. Years later, I co-founded a startup that grew from three people to over 400, raised tens of millions in funding, went through Y Combinator, and expanded across major U.S. cities before eventually merging with a strategic partner.

But titles and numbers don’t tell the whole story.

What really shaped me was the path in between: leaving a secure six-figure job in Manhattan, where I led a team at a successful fashion company, to bootstrap a laundry startup with no experience in tech, no investors, and no safety net. We worked 16-hour days, ran deliveries ourselves, and built the product while figuring everything out in real time. It wasn’t glamorous—but it was real. And it taught me how to lead under pressure, trust my gut, and stay grounded even when everything around me felt uncertain.

That leap taught me something I now live by: risk is not the enemy—it’s an invitation. Most people wait for clarity before they move. But I’ve learned clarity comes from movement. The bigger risk isn’t jumping—it’s staying stuck in something that no longer fits.

Today, I work with founders, CEOs, and high-performing professionals through coaching, mentoring, and strategic guidance. Some are building fast-growing companies. Others are at a turning point, trying to scale without losing themselves. I help them move with more clarity—whether we’re tackling product-market fit, growth, fundraising, hiring, or the deeper inner work of leadership and self-trust.

Over the past five years, I’ve coached and mentored hundreds of founders, including many YC-backed teams. And what I’ve learned is that behind every company is a person—navigating uncertainty, pressure, and the weight of responsibility. I help them cut through the noise, reconnect with themselves, and lead from alignment instead of reaction.

What sets my work apart is that I don’t bring a one-size-fits-all playbook—I bring presence, perspective, and lived experience. I know what it’s like to chase success and still feel unfulfilled. I know what it’s like to make bold moves that don’t make sense on paper but feel deeply right.

And now, I’m building ResetFlow—a growing community and space for founders and leaders who want to stop living on autopilot and start creating with intention, purpose, and clarity. Because success isn’t just about what you build—it’s about who you become in the process.

What I’m most proud of isn’t just the businesses I built—it’s the people I’ve helped reconnect with themselves, trust their instincts again, and create momentum—not just externally, but within.

Because at the end of the day, I believe clarity is a founder’s greatest advantage. Fulfillment doesn’t come from chasing more. And risk? It’s not something to fear—it’s the doorway to becoming who you’re meant to be.

Can you share a story from your journey that illustrates your resilience?

Absolutely.

One moment that stands out vividly was during the early days of building Cleanly. We had just quit our corporate jobs, poured all of our personal savings into the business, and were running on pure belief. No backup plan. No salary. Just a vision.

We were doing everything—literally. Customer service, deliveries, folding laundry at midnight, pitching investors in the morning, building tech during the day. I was sleeping three hours a night and still waking up energized—not from rest, but from purpose.

But after a year, our savings were almost gone. We were bleeding cash. Investors weren’t biting. And we were still far from product-market fit. I remember one particular day—I had just carried a heavy laundry bag ten blocks in the freezing New York winter, got back to the office (which was really just a corner in a dry cleaner), and found out another investor had passed on us. That moment broke me for a second. I sat on the floor, back against the wall, questioning everything. Did I make a mistake? Was I naive to believe this could work?

But then something clicked.

I reminded myself why I started. I wasn’t chasing comfort—I was chasing growth. I wasn’t here to play it safe—I was here to build something meaningful. And resilience is just that—being willing to keep going, especially when there’s no guarantee of success.

A few weeks later, we got accepted into Y Combinator. That single “yes” after dozens of “no’s” changed the trajectory of everything.

To me, resilience isn’t a heroic, Instagrammable moment. It’s a quiet decision you make every day: to show up, to try again, and to believe in something even when the world hasn’t caught on yet.

Learning and unlearning are both critical parts of growth – can you share a story of a time when you had to unlearn a lesson?

One of the biggest lessons I had to unlearn was the idea that success is always about relentless hustle and continuous growth at all costs. I used to believe that if you weren’t pushing 24/7, if you weren’t constantly scaling or raising more capital, you were somehow falling behind. I thought that the mark of a great entrepreneur was the ability to endure constant pressure, take on as many challenges as possible, and keep expanding no matter what.

The backstory really goes back to my first startup experience. In the early days of building Cleanly, I was running on pure adrenaline. We had raised money, brought on great investors, and were scaling quickly. From the outside, it looked like we were doing everything right. But inside, I was wearing myself out. I was convinced that to keep up with the expectations we had set, I had to keep hustling non-stop. I prided myself on being able to handle endless hours and nonstop demands.

Over time, though, I started to see the cracks. The more I pushed without taking a moment to reflect, the less effective I became. I found myself reacting instead of planning. The company started feeling more like a burden than a passion. And most importantly, I realized that the constant hustle was taking a toll not just on my mental well-being, but on the team’s culture and our long-term vision. We were growing, but it wasn’t always clear if we were growing in the right direction.

The turning point came when we faced a critical decision about pivoting the business. That experience—when the investors and I were at odds about the future of the company—made me step back and re-evaluate what success really meant. I began to see that building a great business isn’t just about working harder; it’s about working smarter, being intentional with your time, and aligning your actions with your values. It’s about sustainable growth, not just relentless expansion.

So I had to unlearn the idea that constant hustle equals success. Instead, I’ve learned to focus on clarity, purpose, and quality over quantity. I’ve found that when you give yourself space to think, plan, and recharge, you actually make better decisions—and the impact of those decisions is far greater than if you were running yourself into the ground. It’s a lesson I carry with me today, and one I often share with the founders I mentor.

Contact Info:

• Website: http://itayforer.com/
• Linkedin: https://www.linkedin.com/in/itayforer/

Image Credits

In the founders on the Ycombinator photo, the 2 founders are Tom Harari and Chen Atlas