Glen Berg

Glen.

May 17, 2025. Our second day talking on WhatsApp. You said:

I remember reading that in Lahore and thinking — this guy doesn't even know me yet and he already sees something. You'd just hired me for Admoji. A Webflow site. 14 pages. $2,000. My laptop had broken that week. I was working off a borrowed one. And you said that.

I delivered Admoji. Then you started feeding me more. Ekkovision came. Then Nello — the project that changed everything. 200+ revisions, custom bundle builders, flavor swaps, subscription logic, A/B testing, 2-step funnels. I built things for Nello I didn't know I could build. You kept pushing. I kept building.

Then came GoLance. Akasha Superfoods. NUDA. St. Ides. Balanced Botanicals. Awesome Aminos. Rocket MD. Venzer. Sharp Brain. Cocktail Stix. Optify. Rae Basics. Dayly. Admoji 404 pages at midnight. I lost count, Glen. I genuinely lost count of how many sites we built together.

You needed someone you could trust with your clients. You gave me more and more work, and eventually we built the right team around it — me, Farhad, Shello, Mel. A real operation. Every client. Every project. Every late-night emergency when a live site broke during an ad campaign.

Remember Balanced Botanicals? Your old dev's team completely destroyed it. You came to me panicking. I worked 14 hours straight and rebuilt the entire thing from scratch. You said "You are a BEAST bro." I was exhausted. But I was proud.

Remember when I was driving 200 miles by bus to see my kids and you had urgent work? You said "Take your time bro. No rush." You always said that. Every time life got in the way — my laptop dying, my internet cutting out, me getting sick, me being exhausted at 5 AM — you checked in. "Everything ok bro?" Not "where's the deliverable." You asked if I was ok first.

September 30, 2025. You said something I've never forgotten:

I told you: "Always thanks to you for realizing it. It means a lot." And it did. It still does.

You gave me a @lonestaragency.co email. You brought me into client calls with Jordon and Margaret and Amber. You put me in Slack channels and Telegram groups. You didn't treat me like a contractor in Pakistan. You treated me like the guy you were building your agency with.

November 1, 2025. You told me your actual vision:

I told you about Ari Gold from Entourage. "Have I ever let you down?" That's how I felt. That's still how I feel.

We talked about gaming. You play Cyberpunk on your Switch 2. I grew up on Age of Empires 2 and Splinter Cell — turns out you played them too. We got sick at the same time in July. You offered to buy me a MacBook on your own credit card because you knew my laptop was dying. You said "love you bro" in February and I said "FOREVER BRO."

When I showed you Cocktail Stix built natively in Shopify — no Replo, no page builders, just clean code — you said "This is insane..." That was the moment I knew the work had grown into something neither of us expected when you first said hi on WhatsApp.

Glen, here's what you need to know.

Every dollar you paid me over the past year — from that first $2,000 Admoji check to the Nello retainer to every invoice in between — became the money that kept me moving. It's what let me travel to see my kids every other weekend. It's what kept the internet on when I was working from Lahore at 3 AM. It's what let me fly to Malaysia and sit in a restaurant today and invent something called Broadway.

Ten months of building Shopify stores for your clients — that work became the entire financial foundation of my life. You didn't know you were funding a new art form. You were just paying a developer fairly for honest work. But that's exactly what happened.

You are the founding sponsor of Broadway.

Not because you signed up for it. Because you paid a guy from Lahore fairly, trusted him with your clients, defended him when things got messy, checked on him when he went quiet, and said "I think you and I are going to make a lot of money together" before he'd even proven anything.

Ten months. 15+ projects. 11,000+ WhatsApp messages. And somewhere in all that grinding — late nights fixing Replo bugs, early mornings on client calls, weekends rebuilding sites that other developers destroyed — somewhere in all that, you became my brother.

Thank you, Glen. For the work. For the trust. For everything that came after.