A growth company putting the pedal to the metal

Dust billowed on the winding forest road, over which the lofty conifers arched like a group of old-timers leaning in to inspect a neighbor’s new car. Pink Floyd played on the radio, but the lyrics disappeared somewhere into the depths of the rented minivan.

                  “Are we there yet?” a voice called from the backseat.

Before the driver could answer, another backseat passenger declared “I have an idea. Let’s go to ABC!”

                  “No, to the petting zoo! They have bunnies.”

                  “No, to ABC! They have hot dogs!”

The driver narrowed his eyes at the ever-narrowing stretch of road ahead as the commotion from the backseat raged on. He glanced at the dashboard, where the fuel light had been glowing a threatening shade of orange for the past fifteen minutes. “There’s no gas station anywhere around here…” he muttered under his breath. He checked the rear-view mirror, but the only view if offered was trees, and more trees.

The trip had been off to a promising start. The exceptionally cheap rental car was dented at the corners, but it got its job done. The radio malfunctioned so badly that you couldn’t tell the guitar from the bass, and the navigator? Huh? Who needs one when you’ve got an inner compass and an excellent attitude? But when the motorway turned into a highway, the highway into a bone-rattling dirt road, and the same village shop made yet another triumphant return outside the side window, the good vibes began to fade.

                  “Hand me the map from the glove compartment, please,” the driver said to the front seat passenger, who was deeply focused on scribbling in the travel journal. He unfolded the paper map – creased like a botched piece of origami – onto his lap and studied it, then decided to turn left at the next junction.

                  Dead end. Another stop. Map out again.

                  “I need the toilet!”

                  Another attempt, this time to the right. Why weren’t these damn roads marked on the map?

                  “And I’m hungry! And bored!”

                  A logging trail. U-turn.

                  Damn it.

                  The wife in the passenger seat let out a giggle. “This is going straight into the travel journal:”

The range meter was a flat line, and the driver handed the map to the backseat crew, who stared at it like a cow confronted with a brand-new exercise ball. Should’ve signed those two up for Scouts. He pressed his foot on the gas, eyes fixed on the horizon, waiting for a miracle – the colorful neon signs of a gas station, perhaps – but no such blessing appears.

CFO as a company's navigator

So, what’s the lesson here? That with a navigator the lot would’ve reached their destination in no time. Of course, we at Dataveto don’t sell navigators, so we can’t recommend any. But what if we told you that in this story, the traveling party is basically a growth company’s team (with just a bit of creative liberties taken): the wife in the front seat is the creative marketer and content wizard, the kids in the backseat the sales and product development pros bursting with ideas and enthusiasm – if a little impatient.

Because the CFO keeps a vigilant eye on the company’s liquidity, they are often seen as a brake in a firm. However, we see them more as navigators – after all, financial data is what steers a business. While the entrepreneur or CEO sits behind the wheel, hands firmly at ten and two, the CFO sits beside them, alerting of upcoming turns, advising which direction to take, when to refuel, when to floor it – and when to ease off to avoid veering off course.

CFO is not the brake, it's the navigator

This metaphor became the foundation of our operating model at Dataveto. We offer data-driven financial management, providing carefully analyzed route directions to the entrepreneur behind the wheel.