When I first came across The E-Myth Revisited by Michael E. Gerber, I thought I was just reading another business book—one of many lining my shelf, full of good advice but often missing the human heart of what I do. But this one was different. This book didn’t just challenge how I work; it reshaped how I see my role in the world, especially through the lens of my mahi with Digital Inclusion Whanganui.
Gerber’s central premise—that many small businesses fail because they are led by people stuck in what he calls the “Technician” mindset—hit home immediately. The Technician is the doer, the one who loves the hands-on work but often gets bogged down in the details, unable to step back and design a better, more sustainable system. Sound familiar? If you’ve ever worked in a community initiative, you’ll know how easy it is to get caught up in the day-to-day service delivery and lose sight of the broader vision.
In my case, Digital Inclusion Whanganui began as a heartfelt response to the digital divide. I didn’t wait for funding or a national directive—I simply started helping people. Whether it was seniors learning to navigate their phones, jobseekers updating their CVs online, or families struggling with internet access for schoolwork, I showed up. But as the work grew, so did the complexity. I began wearing more hats: coordinator, trainer, advocate, admin, tech support, and strategist.
The E-Myth helped me see that I was playing all three of Gerber’s business roles: the Technician, the Manager, and the Entrepreneur. The Technician in me loved the one-on-one sessions. The Manager in me kept the records and set the appointments. But the Entrepreneur—the visionary—was quietly suffocating under the weight of it all. That’s when the book stopped being theoretical and started becoming a tool for transformation.
Gerber speaks of working on your business, not just in it. That line landed hard. Working in Digital Inclusion Whanganui meant helping people directly, which is deeply meaningful. But working on it meant designing systems that could scale, documenting what I do so others could do it too, and imagining a future where this initiative thrives—even if I eventually step away.
That was a profound shift. Suddenly, I wasn’t just running a project. I was designing an infrastructure. I started asking myself: Could someone else run a drop-in session if I wasn’t there? Would a volunteer know what to do without asking me first? Could this model be replicated in other communities, or even scaled nationally?
This kind of strategic thinking—so well-articulated in The E-Myth—gave me a new purpose. Rather than fear others copying what I do, I began to welcome it. If the model works, why shouldn’t it spread? But that doesn’t mean I lose my value. As I’ve come to realise, people don’t pay for information—they pay for transformation. They pay for the lived experience, the clarity, and the wisdom that comes from navigating the unknown. They pay for systems that work because they’ve been tested in real communities.
The key is to be open and structured. I now see Digital Inclusion Whanganui as a kind of social franchise. Not in the commercial sense, but in the sense of something replicable, teachable, and alive. It’s an evolving system—designed with people at the centre but strong enough to be adapted elsewhere.
One of the most powerful ideas Gerber discusses is the difference between tactical and strategic thinking. Tactical thinking is reactive—it solves today’s problems. Strategic thinking is proactive—it designs tomorrow’s systems. This distinction has helped me navigate the daily demands of my work without losing the long-term vision. I can serve someone today while building the tools that make tomorrow easier—for me and for others.
This isn’t just theoretical. I’ve started documenting processes. I’m developing a volunteer onboarding guide. I’m crafting templates for community outreach and feedback collection. These might seem small, but they are the building blocks of a sustainable future.
At the same time, I’ve started shaping what I now call the Fraser Framework—a values-based, community-first system for digital inclusion. It draws from all I’ve learned: from design thinking and digital skills training to relationship building and social entrepreneurship. And it’s inspired, in part, by Gerber’s insistence that every successful business is built on a replicable model.
I now see the long game. I envision councils, iwi, and organisations across Aotearoa adopting this framework—not just because it works, but because it was built with heart, tested in Whanganui, and refined through real human connection. That is my unique value, and it can’t be copied.
In the end, what The E-Myth Revisited gave me is a lens. A way to step back and see not just the work I do, but the architecture of that work. The scaffolding. The legacy. It showed me that systems don’t dilute compassion—they make it scalable. And that by designing for sustainability, I am honouring the very people I set out to serve.
Digital Inclusion Whanganui will always be local, personal, and rooted in this place. But now I can see how it can also be much more. Thanks to Gerber’s insights, I’m building something that can grow beyond me—while staying true to me.
That, I believe, is the essence of good mahi. And that’s how we go from good… to great.
This blog post is a collaborative creation by Alistair Fraser, with the innovative assistance of OpenAI’s ChatGPT-4o, highlighting the synergy of human creativity and advanced AI technology.