I closed Spotex: what I learned from my clients

Over the years I worked with very different realities: small local businesses, industrial companies, startups, professionals, people who just needed a website.

Sometimes simple showcase sites. Sometimes entire platforms built from scratch.

Shopify, Express.js, EJS, PHP, MySQL, PostgreSQL, Socket.IO, Nginx, custom systems built basically from zero.

Some projects lasted a few weeks. Others turned into months-long journeys.

And that difference taught me something: delivering a project and managing a client long-term are two completely different jobs. And the second one almost nobody paid for.

One of the heaviest projects was a platform for a startup in the pension fund sector.

Initial budget was ridiculous compared to what it became. Eight months of development. By the end it was a serious system.

Express.js backend. Custom EJS frontend. PostgreSQL. JWT authentication. Session and authorization management. Security. Nginx reverse proxy. Server-level protections. Realtime communication via Socket.IO.

It also had a room system, where users could interact only under specific conditions and after accepting particular documents.

On top of that I handled SEO, personal branding and visual identity for the project.

Technically it gave me a lot. Commercially it taught me something more important: an underpriced project quickly becomes an unsustainable relationship.

And the problem isn't just how much you get paid to build. It's everything that comes after. Hosting. Maintenance. Requests. Changes. Explanations. Updates. Expectations. All things that keep existing even when the project is "delivered."

Strange to say, but my most formative experiences didn't come from the technically complex projects.

Small e-commerce. Local businesses. Sites for restaurants, herbal shops, artisans, family businesses.

Sometimes the project was worth a few hundred euros. Sometimes a few thousand. But the problem was always the same: after delivery, the line between "project" and "support" got blurry.

A text change. A photo swap. A certified email issue. An explanation for the client. A menu update. A tiny design tweak.

"It'll only take five minutes."

And that's the sentence I learned to fear. Five minutes today. Half an hour tomorrow. Half an hour times dozens of requests becomes a significant part of your working life. And nobody pays for it.

Today I don't say the clients were the problem. In many cases I created those expectations. Without noticing.

I had accepted prices that were too low. I had included work that should have been invoiced separately. I had replied on WhatsApp. I had made changes "on the fly." I had turned support into something undefined.

And above all: I had never clearly set where the project ended and where new work began.

When you're young, technically capable and eager to prove what you can do, it's easy to fall into this. You want to fix it. You want to help. You want the client happy.

Then you realize you're working all the time. And the business model isn't growing with the work.

Not everything was bad.

I had clients who paid properly, respected the work and trusted me for years. Some just wanted a website, period. Others needed hosting and little else.

Those relationships made me understand what kind of clients I want.

I'm not looking for the client who pays the most. I'm looking for the client where there's a clear relationship. Period.

Then there were the messier ones. Clients asking for constant changes. Clients who treated every intervention as included in the original price. Clients challenging small increases. Clients asking for support on tools I hadn't even built. Clients writing about stuff unrelated to what they bought.

Even those relationships taught me something: not every client is a client I want.

A few years ago I'd have struggled to accept a sentence like that. Today I consider it fundamental.

Liquidation turned this reflection into something concrete.

I had to look at clients, domains, servers, hosting, projects, payments one by one. Everything that had been built over the years.

And I asked myself a simple question:

"If I had to start again today, would I build the company the same way?"

The answer is no.

Not because everything was wrong. On the contrary. Technically I learned enormously. I built complex systems. I worked on backend architectures, security, databases, realtime, SEO, infrastructure, custom applications.

But I also learned that being technically good isn't enough to build a sustainable business. You have to design the business model too. Which I didn't.

For the future I want to move in a very different direction. Three levels.

Hosting

Simple, standardized service, ideally on Italian infrastructure. Few plans, few exceptions, clear boundaries.

Hosting should generate recurring revenue without becoming a second job. Which is exactly the mistake I made before.

Consulting

I don't want to sell my time randomly anymore.

Selective consulting. Defined prices and scope. If someone wants a change, a new feature, a technical intervention: that's new work. Not "it'll take five minutes."

SaaS

The level I want to focus on most.

Small, vertical products, born from problems I actually hit. Not the thousandth huge software trying to do everything. Tools that solve one specific problem well. Period.

The most important thing I take from Spotex isn't a technology.

It's not Express.js. It's not PostgreSQL. It's not Docker. It's not Socket.IO.

It's something much simpler:

a company must be designed so it doesn't constantly depend on the people running it.

If every client has to talk to me, I haven't built a system.

If every problem requires my intervention, I haven't built a system.

If every request becomes an exception, I haven't built a system.

I built a job. Only it was mine. And I couldn't even take vacation from it.

The liquidation of Spotex doesn't erase what I did.

I carry years of experience. Hundreds of solved problems. Architectures designed. Mistakes made. Clients met. And an enormous number of lessons you don't find in books.

Some relationships will continue through Delta Software SRLS. Others will end. Others will be redefined with clearer rules.

And that's probably the healthiest thing that could have happened.

Because this time I don't just want to change company. I want to change how I build my work.

Less useless customization. Less dependency on my time. Less "I'll take care of it."

More systems. More products. More recurring revenue. And more freedom.

Spotex was an important part of my journey. But it doesn't have to be the model for my future. Actually: the old model stays as an example of what not to do again.