
Hi, I’m Elf.

I’m a Community Builder, a contrarian thinker, and an aspiring leader obsessed with one thing:

Helping brands become felt, not just seen.

Because attention is cheap now.
Everyone can buy reach.
Everyone can go viral.

But trust?
That’s the real currency.

And trust only comes from one place:

community.

⸻

I’m the Co-Founder and CEO of Butterfly Effect — the growth engine brands call when they want to build real community and true cultural relevance.

Not hype.
Not noise.
Not campaigns that look good for a week then disappear.

I’m interested in infrastructure — the stuff that compounds.
The systems behind brands that feel inevitable.

⸻

Before Butterfly Effect, I was the Global Head of Social Content at Gymshark.

I got to help scale the community from 1.5M to 20M+, during the run that pushed the brand towards a £1.4B valuation.

That chapter taught me something I’ll stand on forever:

Community isn’t a marketing channel.
It’s the strongest growth advantage on Earth…
if you treat people like people.

Simple.

⸻

Since then, Butterfly Effect has partnered with Formula E, Square, Netflix, Bumble, McDonald’s, WeTransfer, Meta, XPeng, YuLife, Honest Greens and more.

Not because we have magic ideas.

But because we build what most brands don’t:

flywheels that earn trust.

Content that earns attention.
Community that earns belief.
Belief that earns momentum.
Momentum that earns growth.

Over and over again.

⸻

Now I’m documenting the next chapter.

No guru energy.
No fake certainty.

Just me building in real-time — sharing the lessons, the tools, the frameworks, and the mistakes that come with trying to build something meaningful.

If you’re a founder, a CMO, or a creative who wants to build brands people actually care about…

You’ll probably feel at home here.

My goal is simple:

To become the most useful account on LinkedIn for creative leaders. 

Elfried Samba

All day.
Every day.
And twice on Sunday.


Hiring kind people with a positive attitude over negative people with experience?


I’ll take that trade every single time.


And I say that as a first-time founder
who spent years working inside other companies first.


When you’re an employee, culture is something you feel.
When you’re a founder, culture is something you create.


That shift changes everything.


Earlier in my career, I admired experience.
Big CVs. Big brands. Big reputations.


Now? I look for energy.


Because as a founder, you don’t just hire for output.
You hire for atmosphere.


You hire for how Monday morning feels.
You hire for how pressure moments are handled.


You hire for how people talk about each other when they’re not in the room.


Experience can accelerate you.
But the wrong attitude can slow you down in ways you don’t see immediately.


I’ve learned that:

• One negative voice can quietly lower standards.
• One ego can distort decision-making.
• One “that’s not my job” can fracture ownership.


But one kind, driven, accountable person?


They raise the temperature of the whole room.


As a first-time founder, you realise something quickly:

You don’t need the smartest person in the room.
You need the person who makes the room better.


Kind doesn’t mean soft.
Positive doesn’t mean naive.


It means resilient.
It means solutions over problems.
It means ambition without ego.


When I worked in other companies, I experienced the difference.


Now building one, I feel the responsibility.


Culture isn’t a slide in a deck.
It’s who you tolerate.
It’s who you promote.
It’s who you hire.


Experience is valuable.
But character scales.


All day.
Every day.
And twice on Sunday.

Credit: Sibel Terhaar 🔥

CEO & Co-founder @ Butterfly Effect | Ex-Gymshark Head of Social (Global)

graphical user interface, text, application, chat or text message

Early in my career, I walked into rooms where you could feel the hierarchy before anyone spoke.


You knew who went to which school.
Who worked at which firm.
Who was “important.”
Who should stay quiet.


No one said it.


But it was understood.


Respect the title.
Trust the pedigree.
Assume competence based on status.


That’s how corporate bureaucracy sustains itself.


It confuses credentials with character.


It rewards those who navigate hierarchy - not necessarily those who build, think, or lead with courage.


And if you’re not careful, you start playing the same game.


Optimising for optics.
For proximity to power.
For the right rooms.



Instead of asking:


Am I actually someone worth trusting?


Because intelligence is common.
Education is widespread.
Money is scalable.
Status is transferable.


Character is rare.

Bureaucracy hides behind process.
Meetings instead of decisions.
Titles instead of accountability.
Hierarchy instead of respect.


It’s safer that way.


You can defer responsibility.
Blame the system.
Protect your position.


But integrity doesn’t hide.


It shows up in how you treat people with no leverage.


In whether you share credit when you don’t have to.


In whether you challenge nonsense - even when it costs you.


Power doesn’t create virtue.

It reveals it.


You can build something large inside a rigid system and still be small in spirit.


Or you can build something steady, principled, and trusted.


One impresses rooms.


The other builds legacy.


No matter how educated, talented, rich, or well-connected you are…

How you treat people tells all.

Integrity isn’t anti-ambition.

It’s anti-pretence.

If your title disappeared tomorrow,

What would actually be left?


Credit: Leonardo Freixas

No alternative text description for this image

I’ve been in rooms where I had power.

And I’ve been in rooms where I had none.

Those two experiences teach you more about people than any leadership book ever will.

Because power changes the room.

And it reveals the room.



When you walk in with status, people lean forward.

When you walk in without it, they check their phones.

That difference tells you everything.

You learn quickly who respects hierarchy.

And who respects humans.



Here’s the uncomfortable truth:

A lot of people don’t respect you.

They respect what you control.

Your budget.
Your title.
Your network.
Your influence.

Remove those, and their tone changes.

Slightly.

But enough.



Real character shows up when there’s nothing to gain.

How you treat:

- The intern who can’t accelerate your career.
- The operator who isn’t flashy.
- The assistant who manages the calendar.
- The junior engineer who hasn’t proven themselves yet.

That’s culture.

Not the all-hands speech.

Not the values deck.

The margins.



If you only respect people above you, you’re not principled.

You’re optimizing.

And optimization without integrity is short-term thinking.

It works - until it doesn’t.

Because people are always watching.

Especially the ones with no power.

They notice who gets eye contact.
Who gets interrupted.
Who gets patience.
Who gets dismissed.

And they adjust accordingly.



Here’s what founders and executives forget:

Trust is not built in the spotlight.

It’s built in small, forgettable interactions.

The way you respond to a basic question.
The way you handle a mistake from someone junior.
The way you speak to support staff when nobody important is listening.

If your respect is conditional, people will perform - but they won’t commit.

And performance without commitment collapses under pressure.



Consistency is the hardest discipline in leadership.

It’s easy to be generous upward.

It’s easy to be polished in front of investors.

It’s harder to be steady across levels.

But that’s the standard.

Because once people believe your respect fluctuates with status, they stop trusting your values.

And when trust evaporates, culture becomes politics.

And politics kills companies slowly.



So treat everyone with the same baseline dignity.

Not because it looks good.

Not because it’s moral theater.

Because if you can’t be consistent in small rooms, you won’t be trusted in big ones.

And in the long run, trust compounds.

Status doesn’t.


Credit: Yousif Hussain

That’s not a motivational quote.

That’s a leadership scar.

Because ambition exposes alignment.

And nothing clarifies a relationship faster than success.



Early on, everyone says they support you.

They like the idea of you winning.

They like the dream.

They like proximity to potential.

But success changes the temperature.

It forces people to confront their own ceilings.

And not everyone wants to watch you outgrow them.



Here’s the hard lesson:

Not everyone who starts with you is meant to scale with you.

Some people love you at your level.

They struggle with you above it.

And that’s not always evil.

Sometimes it’s insecurity.
Sometimes it’s comparison.
Sometimes it’s a reminder of what they didn’t pursue.

But regardless of the reason, misalignment at altitude is expensive.



In startups, this happens all the time.

The early employee who was perfect at 5 people struggles at 50.

The friend who believed in the idea resents the structure.

The supporter who cheered the grind can’t handle the spotlight.

You can’t drag people up a mountain they don’t want to climb.

And trying to will exhaust you.



The dangerous part isn’t that they don’t want you to win.

It’s that you keep investing energy trying to convince them.

Explaining yourself.
Downplaying your ambition.
Shrinking your success to keep the peace.


That’s how leaders slow themselves down.

Because guilt is heavy.

And so is loyalty when it’s misplaced.



There’s a difference between building with people and carrying people.

Building is mutual commitment.

Carrying is emotional charity.

One scales.

The other drains.



The mature move isn’t anger.

It’s clarity.

You don’t need everyone to clap.

You need the right people to climb.

People who are secure enough to celebrate your growth.

People ambitious enough to grow with you.

People honest enough to tell you when you’re wrong and strong enough not to resent you when you’re right.



If someone doesn’t want to see you at the top, believe them.

And keep climbing anyway.

Because the view only matters if you earned it.

And you can’t earn it while dragging resistance uphill.

Be the person everyone wants to work with.
Let me tell you something I learned the hard way…
I used to think people got picked because they were the most talented.
The smartest.

The most connected.
But then I watched what actually happens behind the scenes.
The people who win long-term?


They’re not always the best in the room.
They’re the easiest to build with.
They make everything feel lighter.
Cleaner.
Faster.
Less stressful.
And that’s rare.

Because talent is everywhere.
But someone who shows up with good energy, high standards, and zero ego?


That’s top 1%.
So here’s the game:
Be the person who makes people feel safe to do great work.
Not fake nice.
Not “yes” to everything.
Not a people pleaser.
Just solid.

Be the person who brings solutions, not stress.
Be the person who can take feedback without getting emotional.
Be the person who stays calm when the project is on fire.
Be the person who tells the truth early, so problems don’t grow teeth.

Because in real life…
Everyone is fighting invisible wars.
Deadlines.
Pressure.
Family stuff.
Self-doubt.
Money.
Expectations.

So if your presence adds peace…
You become unforgettable.
And people will choose you again and again and again.
Not just because you’re good…
But because working with you feels like progress.


That’s the cheat code.
Be reliable.
Be direct.
Be coachable.
Be consistent.
Be someone people don’t have to chase.


Because the biggest flex isn’t being the most talented.
It’s being the person everyone trusts to build with.
Be that person.
And watch how fast doors open.

That sounds obvious.

It’s not.

Because when someone challenges your thinking in a meeting, it doesn’t feel like leadership development.

It feels like disobedience.

It feels like loss of control.

It feels like risk.



Here’s the thing nobody tells you:

When you become the boss, the truth gets quieter.

Not because people are stupid.
Because they’re smart.

They know you control compensation.
They know you control promotions.
They know you control access.

So they edit themselves.

And if you’re not careful, you wake up one day surrounded by agreement and headed toward a cliff.



Yes-people don’t look dangerous.

They look loyal.

They nod.
They move fast.
They execute without friction.

But they don’t protect the company.

They protect your comfort.

And comfort is expensive.


The most dangerous moment in leadership isn’t when people argue with you.

It’s when they stop.

Silence in a room full of smart people is not alignment.

It’s fear.


Here’s the uncomfortable truth:

If nobody challenges you, one of three things is happening:
	1.	You hired people weaker than you.
	2.	You punish disagreement.
	3.	You’ve created learned helplessness.

None of those scale.


Great leaders don’t just tolerate challenge.

They design for it.

They ask:

- “What am I missing?”
- “If this fails, why will it fail?”
- “Who disagrees?”

And when someone pushes back, they don’t crush them to win the room.

They reward the courage.

Because long term, the company doesn’t need your ego protected.

It needs blind spots exposed.



This is especially true in hard times.

When revenue drops.
When product slips.
When investors are watching.

Insecure leaders double down on control.

Great leaders widen the circle.

They bring in stronger operators.
They invite dissent.
They create tension on purpose.

Because tension sharpens thinking.


Here’s the paradox:

The stronger you are, the less you need to dominate.

The weaker you are, the more you need agreement.

So if you want to know whether you’re building something real, look at your meetings.

Are people careful around you?

Or are they honest?

The future of your company depends on the answer.

Because fans protect ego.

Challengers protect outcomes.


And so is loyalty when it’s misplaced.



Credit: Eric Partaker

ALL DAY 🔥

Not performatively. Not strategically. Genuinely. 

Because someone is always ahead of you.
They’ve raised more. Built faster. Shipped better.   Got the recognition you thought might be yours.
That’s the game. 

If you can’t handle watching other people win, you won’t last long enough to win yourself.
Clapping is maturity.  
It’s saying: “I see what you built. Respect.” 
Without adding: “Why not me?”  
There’s a quiet confidence in celebrating others.
 It signals that you’re not panicking about your own timeline.

And timelines are where most people lose their minds.  
They compare chapters. They rush decisions. They chase optics instead of substance.  
Meanwhile, the steady ones just keep building.

Another person’s success doesn’t reduce your surface area.  It expands what’s possible.
It shows the market responds.  It shows the craft pays off. It shows the path exists.
That’s useful information. 
You don’t have to shrink when someone else shines.
You can clap. Take notes. And go back to work. 

Your turn isn’t a slot in a queue.
It’s the outcome of who you become while waiting. 

So until then:
Clap loudly. Build quietly. Stay grounded. 

The goal isn’t to shine first. 

It’s to be undeniable when it’s finally your time and stable enough to handle it.


Credit: Justin Wright

taplio