The Business of Act Two — Fresh off the brink of bankruptcy, the CEO of Secretlab reflects on an unexpected crucible of leadership

For a cloudy Friday afternoon, the headquarters of Secretlab is buzzy and humming with employees going this way or that, dressed chiefly in oversized hoodies and the comfiest of pants. I can't help but notice how fluorescent the lighting in the lobby looks and make a mental note to nudge its CEO and co-founder Ian Ang to slightly warm the light temperature and, in so doing, the mise en scene as a whole. 

Still, I understand that such frivolities and aesthetic considerations come in second or perhaps fiftieth place when a Singapore darling fights tooth and nail for survival. No sooner had I entertained that thought, Ang burst through the doors dressed in head-to-toe black, an Apple Watch at his wrist and a face that glows with the after-effects of retinol and careful skincare routines, I'm sure. 

Ang whisks me to the other wing of the fifth floor of 351 on Braddell, which Secretlab occupies. "This used to be a storage area, but we're now in the final stages of outfitting it to accommodate more employees," he explains. With a pep in his step, he leads me to the newly-built photo studio, where workers are slowly hoisting a large ceiling-sized lightbox to soften the lights. "Oh, this would be perfect at the reception," I thought. But I digress. 

A few minutes later, I find myself in Ang's corner office with a view of the towering apartments at Bishan Street 12. There's soft lo-fi music playing in the background as Ang asks if I'm happy with my work. Without skipping a beat, "100%," I answer, which takes him by surprise. "100?" he asks, slightly bemused. "Yes, 100," I assure him. "How about you?"

"I don't really know how to quantify it," he says, reflecting on his happiness level. "But I do know this — there's a reminder that helps me through the tougher times." Ian Ang pauses, weighing his words with care. "Whether I'm 50%, 30%, or 20% happy with what I do, I still feel incredibly blessed." He's reluctant to lean into hyperbole, grounding his sentiments instead in a quiet appreciation for the opportunity to shape a space he's been passionate about since childhood.

Gaming was once niche, almost cult-like—a subculture he and his friends inhabited, often in defiance of parental disapproval, a stance that, at the time, made perfect sense to them. "My parents were typical Asian parents — they were always telling me to get off gaming and all that, especially since I wasn't exactly a good kid." 

But times have changed. Gaming, once dismissed, is now mainstream, its boundaries widening with each new technological advancement, drawing in even those who would never call themselves 'gamers’. And now Ang, the former rebellious child glued to his screen, has found himself at the head of a company that not only caters to the gaming world but has managed to bridge the gap between underground passion and mainstream acceptance.

The Poker of Life

Ang attributes much of his decision-making processes to gaming, even to lessons learned from playing poker. "Have you ever played poker?" he asks me. "No? Well, one big lesson I learned from poker is something called expected value," Ang explains, with a trace of a teacher's patience. "It's about playing the numbers. You don't judge the quality of your decision solely based on the outcome."

It's an unconventional approach for a CEO, but therein lies the genius. Ang's competitive gaming days honed his logical faculties to razor-sharp precision, and his mind trained to strategise and think beyond the binary of success and failure. And then, he offers a somewhat clinical yet profoundly insightful way of viewing the world: "Sometimes you can make the right move, but the outcome turns out badly. But if you ran that same scenario 100 times, you'd come out on top more often than not."

This belief system, grounded in expected value, has served him well in the often tumultuous business world. For Ang, outcomes are often irrelevant compared to the discipline of making sound decisions based on data and logic — a lesson that's undoubtedly had a hand in Secretlab's explosive growth. He doesn't rush; instead, he manoeuvres carefully, eyes set on the long game.

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It's almost as if he embodies the duality of Spock from Star Trek — a balance between logic and emotion. "The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the one," he muses, quoting the iconic Vulcan's famous line. I nod, pretending I understand the source of the reference (I'm less Star Trek or Star Wars and more Sex and the City). 

Still, the question is whether Ang's decisions are genuinely devoid of emotion. It's the second layer, he believes, where the challenge lies — the belief that logic should dictate our actions, yet acknowledging the emotion that pulses beneath.

From Rebel to CEO

A rebel at heart, Ang admits he wasn't always the disciplined figure he's become today. "I wasn't a good child nor a good student," he recalls, almost amused at the memory. There's something undeniably relatable about a boy with no discipline who eventually becomes a man managing millions. His rebellious streak was tempered by a mother with a sharp eye for finances — an accountant by nature and business-savvy to her core.

His parents instilled in him financial awareness from an early age. "Every time I wanted money, I had to log my expenses in an Excel sheet," he says, recounting the simple yet profoundly impactful habit that would stick with him into adulthood. Even now, with a sprawling business and countless people handling the financial minutiae, Ang retains the habit of keeping a mental log of his expenses. "I'm very aware of each expense, especially the bigger ones," he notes, almost as though that teenage boy forced to track his pocket money never really left him.

His insistence on discipline and financial awareness was rooted in his parents' experiences. "They grew up poor — very poor, actually — and I think they didn't want me to take anything for granted." Ang understands that their frugality wasn't about denying luxuries but teaching him to appreciate the value of every dollar and every purchase.

Yet, even with this deeply ingrained awareness, Ang's career choice wasn't exactly met with cheers and support — especially when it came to his decision to drop out of university. "They weren't thrilled about it," he admits, though in time, they came to accept it, especially when Secretlab began showing real promise.

The road not taken

Today, while Ang's choice to focus solely on his business ultimately paid off, he carries a pang of regret. "Sometimes I do regret not finishing my degree," he confesses. "After being in business for so long, I wish I had studied something more technical, like engineering."

It's a sentiment that will resonate with anyone who's had to choose between passion and practicality — one road inevitably leaving the other unexplored. For Ang, the regret isn't debilitating but lingers, a soft reminder that nudges him from time to time of the paths not taken. His success has silenced any real criticisms, especially from his parents, who once questioned his decision to drop out.

But it's not only his career decisions that prompt introspection. Ang is acutely aware of parenting challenges, should he one day have children of his own. "I don't think I'd go to the same extent as my parents did," he reflects, considering how he would raise his own children in today's world.

The Excel sheets and discipline shaped who he is today. Still, he wonders if a different approach might be more fitting for the next generation. It's a delicate balance — instilling discipline without stifling passion. "If they show signs of understanding and responsibility, I don't think it's necessary to be too strict about things," he says. Like the careful balance between logic and emotion that he strives for in business, parenting, too, would require a similarly thoughtful approach.

The Secret, revealed

"So, what's the Secret?" I ask Ang playfully. After all, a name like Secretlab inevitably prompts curiosity. "The name came about as part of the usual process of brainstorming something interesting for the company, right?" he begins. "For us, the word 'secret' felt particularly compelling. It's one of the most alluring words in the English dictionary, in our opinion. And 'lab' represents something we have always enjoyed — tinkering with products, the idea of R&D and everything happening behind the scenes."

The company's origin was as organic as the name suggests — two young gamers searching for the perfect chair, realising there was a gap in the market. "At that point, I was still very much a gamer — not as heavily as before, but still into it," Ang recalls. "The only thing missing was a proper chair... something that looked good but didn't cost a fortune."

What began as an attempt to fill a personal need quickly snowballed into something much bigger than Ang or his co-founder, Alaric, could have ever imagined. "It was a bit of a naïve endeavour at the time," Ang admits. "We didn't think of all the permutations and potential consequences of creating something new like we do now."

This simplicity — an honest approach to solving a problem — became the foundation of Secretlab's rise. But like many start-ups that experienced rapid growth, they were soon confronted with challenges that seemed impossible to overcome.

Triple whammy

Almost like a cruel economic cliche, when the COVID-19 pandemic struck, Secretlab's trajectory, which had been on a steady rise, hit turbulent skies. The pandemic accelerated sales as the demand for home office and gaming setups surged. But the boom came with its own complications. "We did well, but then we ran into stock issues," Ang recalls. "All around the world, there were supply chain disruptions."

The supply chain bottleneck was a threat to the company's very survival. Freight rates skyrocketed, raw materials became scarce, and suddenly, Secretlab found itself swimming in excess inventory due to overproduction during the initial surge. It was what Ang refers to as the "triple whammy" situation: "Too much inventory, high production costs, and a market slowdown."

Ang recalls sleepless nights spent grappling with the consequences of every decision. "The hardest part is trying to contain all the thoughts and feelings in my own head," he admits. "As a leader, you can't be seen as needing to share things just to move forward. You have to keep it together." The challenges posed by the triple whammy were compounded by Ang's own sense of responsibility, not just for his company but for the people who depended on it. 

"If sales had dropped by 20% below our projections for just two or three months, we probably would have had to declare bankruptcy. It was that bad."

Strategy over survival

There is often no clear path forward in moments like these — only the choice between the least-worst options. While many executives might have chosen to lay off staff or engage in aggressive discounting to clear inventory, Ang and his team took a different approach. "We chose a different path," Ang explains. "It was a calculated risk... we decided to hold strong. We trusted that it would be painful for the next 18 to 24 months, but by the end of that period, we'd be back to normal."

This was not a decision made lightly. Ang's commitment to long-term success over short-term survival was informed by his experiences both in gaming and in life. He likens the decision to poker, where playing the numbers sometimes means making the right decision, even if the immediate outcome looks unfavourable. "I was confident in the plan, sure, but more in the sense that I was committed to it," Ang says. "I believed that we would recover in the long term."

I recall a Malay idiom that exemplifies irony — "Sudah jatuh ditimpa tanga" — which talks about the tragedy of a person already down on his luck being further hit by more calamities. It's a familiar scenario that happened to Ian and Secretlab in 2023 when they were hit with yet another crisis — this time in the form of global compliance issues and batch-wide manufacturing defects. 

"With hardware products, once you've built them and shipped them out... you can't just apply a patch like with software," Ang notes. The company faced tens of millions of dollars in costs — an expense they simply couldn't afford with their already precarious cash flow.

The strain was overwhelming, and for Ang, the mental toll was immense. "How did you sleep?" I ask, leaning forward in my chair, for encouragement at this high point of vulnerability. "How did I sleep at that point?" Ang reflects, almost with a sigh. "It was rough — mentally, it took a huge toll on me."

A Stoic's path

In the darkest moments, Ang turned to philosophy, particularly stoicism (a philosophy that he and his co-founder Alaric Choo often study together), to guide his thinking. "Stoicism came naturally to me, in a way," he says. Two quotes, in particular, stood out during this tumultuous time. The first, from Shantideva, an 8th-century Indian teacher who was a monk at Nalanda University, helped him maintain a practical mindset: "If there's a remedy when trouble strikes, what reason is there for dejection? And if there is no help for it, what use is there in being glum?"

The simplicity of this philosophy resonated with Ang, helping him remain grounded and focused on finding solutions rather than dwelling on the problems. The second quote, more famous in stoic philosophy, captured the essence of Ang's approach to the crisis: "Make the absolute best of what's in your power and take the rest as nature gives it."

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This perspective helped Ang to focus on what he could control — navigating Secretlab through the storm without succumbing to the immense pressure to make short-term decisions that might ultimately compromise the company's long-term vision, tempting as it may seem. 

By mid-2023, the situation had improved, though not without significant sacrifice. In a desperate bid to save the company, Ang pledged all his assets — homes, everything — as collateral to negotiate deferred payment plans with banks and authorities. It was a move that underscores the depth of his belief in Secretlab's future. "It became more of a personal guarantee because I truly believed we would recover in the long term."

For Ang, it was a gamble that could have led to financial ruin. But it was also an act of faith in himself, his team, and the company he had built from the ground up. "We wanted to win the war, not just the battle," he says.

As of now, Secretlab's future remains open-ended, though signs point to a buoyant recovery. The path forward will undoubtedly be challenging, with new hurdles to clear and fresh crises to manage. But for Ang, the focus remains on staying the course, playing the long game, and keeping the mission at the forefront of every decision.

"We just needed enough cash to get through the inventory problems and the compliance issues," Ang reflects. "And I believed we could normalise once those problems were behind us."

Rethinking success

Today, ten years since it was founded, Ang reflects on how his understanding of success has shifted from the early days of building gaming chairs. "We're a lot more long-term thinking now," he says, casually, as if this wasn't the result of years of intense experience and growth. "If you look back 30 years ago, how people used their computers at a desk was so different from how it is today... It feels like a different era — a different era of sitting, really."

The notion of success, for Ang, is no longer just about profit margins or market dominance. His focus has shifted toward something more lasting — mission-oriented thinking that goes beyond the immediate impact. At the core of Secretlab's ethos is a vision that addresses a world where people no longer use their desks for work but as multipurpose hubs for all aspects of life. From working to gaming to consuming entertainment, the chair has become a vessel for everything modern life demands.

Ang describes this philosophy as 'modern ergonomics’, contrasting it with the traditional approach many companies still rely on. 

"Traditional thinking suggests you sit in one posture for hours at a time, but we don't think that's the right approach anymore," he explains. "We believe the chair, desk, or whatever setup you have should enable you to do all kinds of activities at the desk while still supporting you ergonomically. And that requires different postures throughout the day."

It's a bold claim but one rooted in years of research and innovation, all guided by Secretlab's Ergonomics Advisory Board, a collaboration of doctors and scientists helping to shape the future of sitting. 

Ang's goal isn't to change how people sit but to ensure that his products support whatever people do at their desks. "What we're trying to do is different," he asserts. "If you've tried our chairs, you'll notice there's quite a bit of movement involved, unlike the rigid structure of traditional seating."

This shift in focus has also shaped Ang's true north. While the company still operates in highly competitive spaces, like furniture and e-commerce, there's a clear mission behind everything Secretlab creates. "Each of our product lines has its own mission or North Star," Ang explains, clarifying that the core of the company's identity is to support the way people sit and work in today's world.

In many ways, the company's North Star reflects a more thoughtful and responsive approach to product development. "We're very much in tune with how people sit and how we can improve their sitting health," Ang adds. This isn't about forcing people into unnatural postures or rigid rules — it's about creating products that adapt to the user's needs and activities rather than the other way around. "If we can make a positive impact on that, then we'd consider it a job well done."

The strength in doubt 

There’s one thing I still find perplexing about the circumstances in which this interview is arranged. For one, there’s a palpable sense of eagerness — urgency even, if I dare declare — from the Secretlab team to explain the events that have occurred in the past three years. 

And not in a show-offy, look-at-how-far-we’ve-come manner either. I’m not entirely sure how to frame this observation but my best guess is that for Ang and Secretlab, this interview would serve as a nice mid-way point for a second act — a service I would gladly indulge. 

Still, I wonder what Ang's greatest takeaway has been from three years of turmoil, sleepless nights, and uncertainty. After all, what good is an existential crisis if there’s little by way of lessons and wisdom gleaned should history repeat itself?

"I'd say the stuff about stoicism — the quotes I shared with you — are just one of those things that make so much sense, but whether you live by them or not is a different story," Ang reflects, referring to the ancient philosophy that helped him navigate the storm. "Mental resilience — how to deal with life and all its challenges — is quite an intentional choice."

This mental resilience didn't come easily, though. Ang speaks candidly about the moments when he felt broken, when the weight of running a company seemed too much to bear. Yet, in those moments of weakness, he found strength. "If you're feeling nervous, scared, or disturbed by something, I see that as a good sign. It shows you care, and it shows self-awareness," he tells his team.

Ang's leadership has always been marked by this duality — an outward appearance of calm and control coupled with an inner struggle to keep it all together. And perhaps that's why his reflections on imposter syndrome resonate so profoundly with his employees. "I tell them it's a good thing because it means you're questioning yourself and thinking things through," he says. "Questioning yourself is a strength because it means you're considering your decisions carefully rather than just going ahead blindly."

Resilience and then, growth

In the aftermath of the pandemic and the brink of bankruptcy, Secretlab has emerged stronger, having taken a slower, more deliberate path to recovery. Rather than rushing into short-term fixes like layoffs or fire sales, Ang chose to focus on the long game, trusting that the company would bounce back if it stayed the course. "We've actually recovered sooner," he says, confident. "This financial year will probably be a record year for us."

Still, as you can imagine, it wasn't an easy path, which perhaps explains the media blackout in the past three years. The company had to navigate the complicated financing world, with banks initially eager to lend but then pulling back as soon as uncertainty set in. Ang compares it to an old analogy: "It's like the people with money want to give you an umbrella when it's sunny, but as soon as it starts raining, they take it away."

Yet, despite these challenges, Secretlab's leadership has evolved. Many of the company's senior leaders, millennials who grew up alongside the company, have matured significantly over the years. Ang notes how Secretlab has struck a delicate balance between its entrepreneurial spirit and the professional management needed to scale a global business. "Now, we've brought in experienced executives from companies like Dyson and Apple to help solve those challenges," he says, highlighting the company's growth from a start-up to a more structured organisation.

As Ang reflects on his own growth as a CEO, he expresses a deep gratitude for his challenges. "One of my biggest fears — or maybe not fears, but concerns — is reaching 70 or 80 years old and looking back with regret," he says. This thought drives him to push forward, even when the journey feels overwhelming constantly. For Ang, the experience of running a company has been transformative. "I'm a firm believer that work is what forces people to grow," he says. He speaks candidly about the personal sacrifices he's made, but ultimately, it's the growth — the opportunity to evolve as a leader — that has made it all worthwhile.

Looking to the future, Ang's outlook is both pragmatic and hopeful. He acknowledges the increasing cynicism that has taken root in today's world, particularly in light of global unrest and growing mental health challenges. But he also reminds himself of the privileges of modern life — how, despite the challenges, this is still one of the most peaceful and prosperous eras in human history.

"Just 200 years ago, our ancestors would have seen these things as huge privileges," he reflects. "It's about perspective. I feel like, in general, things have become too comfortable for people, and that comfort can sometimes distort reality." For Ang, the key to navigating today's world lies in balancing gratitude for the present with a commitment to continued growth and evolution.

The unfinished journey

Ang's rise with Secretlab is as improbable as it is powerful. Here was a young man constantly told to stop gaming, who never quite fit the "ideal student" mould and ultimately dropped out of university to chase what many might have dismissed as a mere hobby. But where others saw distraction, Ang saw opportunity.

His journey defies expectation — rebellion channelled into discipline, emotion sharpened by logic, success forged from a path others overlooked. It's a story that parallels the industry he's helping redefine. Gaming, once sidelined, is now a billion-dollar force. And Ang, once the rogue gamer, now commands a legacy in a world few thought he'd enter, let alone dominate.

Reflecting on his path, there's no grand proclamation of victory — no "I've made it" moment. Like any serious player, he knows there are levels still to conquer, battles yet to fight. "Of course, it's going to come with its own challenges," he acknowledges, with the steadiness of someone who has already navigated countless obstacles. "But I think it's worth it."

The story doesn't end here, nor does it pretend to. There's still room for expansion and adaptation. The future may be uncertain, but one thing is crystal clear: Ang is in it for the long haul, and he's playing to win.