Alex Glasner: The Entrepreneurial Journey of a "Third Child"

Growing up in London, Alex Glasner knew there were three children in his family: himself, his sister, and his father’s accounting practice.

It was a running joke around the dinner table, but it carried a serious truth. His father loved that business—perhaps, on certain difficult days, even more than his human children. Witnessing that devotion didn't scare Glasner away; it planted a seed. He didn't want to just have a job; he wanted a "baby" of his own. He wanted the burden and the glory of ownership.

Years later, armed with a Harvard Business School MBA and a resume stamped with investment banking and political speechwriting, Glasner found himself in a peculiar purgatory. He was desperate to be an entrepreneur but lacked a startup idea. He was living in Los Angeles, but his ambition was focused on the industrial heartlands of the United Kingdom.

Glasner ultimately bridged that gap, acquiring Workpays, a workforce training company in Chesterfield, UK. But as he transitioned from the theoretical perfection of the search to the messy reality of the "Blue Years," he learned that acquiring a business is merely the admission ticket to a much more grueling performance.

Glasner’s entry into Entrepreneurship Through Acquisition (ETA) was defined by military-grade preparation. While many searchers succumb to the "spray and pray" method immediately, Glasner spent his first six weeks doing nothing but building infrastructure. He scripted calls, built target lists, and designed presentations before sending a single email.

He operated on a thesis of decisive efficiency. He had interviewed fifty people before starting—investors, successful searchers, and crucially, failed searchers. He learned that indecision was the searcher's quiet killer. "Perfect," he realized, "is the enemy of the good".

But his search had a geographical complication. Glasner was hunting for a British company while stuck in the United States, waiting for a green card. He worked UK hours from the Pacific Time Zone, waking up at 3:00 AM to cold-call business owners in the Midlands. He was a digital ghost, convincing sellers he was a serious buyer while legally barred from leaving the U.S. to meet them.

It worked. In late 2020, through proprietary outreach, he found Workpays.

Workpays was an anomaly. In the employability and skills sector—an industry often plagued by high attrition and low morale—Workpays was a high-performer. It held government contracts to help the unemployed find work and to upskill those already employed. While the industry average for course completion hovered around 64 percent, Workpays boasted success rates of over 89 percent.

The business was run by Helen and Anne Wright, two formidable women who had built a "family" culture where profit was secondary to social impact. Helen, the founder, was looking to retire before a milestone birthday. She hadn't listed the business with a broker yet. Glasner had found the perfect window.

The deal closed in June 2021. Glasner, having successfully petitioned a U.S. congressman for emergency travel permission, finally flew to the UK to meet his new partners and sign the papers.

In the ETA community, the narrative often skips from the champagne of closing day to the glory of the exit. It rarely dwells on the eighteen months in between. One of Glasner’s investors calls this period "The Blue Years"—a time characterized by stress, doubt, and exhaustion.

For Glasner, the honeymoon lasted six months. Then, the reality of operating a complex, people-heavy business set in.

He had bought a company of 80 people. Within sixteen months, due to new contract wins, the headcount swelled to 140. The rapid expansion fractured the intimate culture he had admired from the outside. "I used to know everyone," his Co-Managing Director, Anne, lamented. "I knew their kids' names. Now I go into meetings and say 'Nice to meet you,' and they tell me I saw them last week".

Glasner found himself fighting a war on two fronts. Internally, he was trying to professionalize a legacy business, implementing HR systems and financial controls that the growing headcount demanded. He learned the hard way that a Searcher cannot simply mandate fifty new processes and expect them to stick.

Externally, the United Kingdom was undergoing a period of historic political volatility. In the span of one year, the country cycled through three Prime Ministers. Government funding—the lifeblood of Workpays—stalled as policies shifted and budgets froze. The "pie" of available funding temporarily shrank, forcing Glasner to navigate a macroeconomic environment that punished even high-performing firms.

The transition from deal-maker to operator exacted a personal toll. Glasner admits that he carries the weight of the company everywhere.

His partner jokes that there are three people in their marriage: Alex, himself, and Workpays.

This weight has forced Glasner to evolve. The people-pleasing instincts that served him well in sales calls became liabilities in the CEO chair. He learned that in a company of 140 people, it is impossible to be universally liked. He had to develop a thicker skin, accepting that staff might complain about him behind his back, provided they respected the mission and the standards he set.

He also relies heavily on Anne, who stayed on as Co-Managing Director. Their partnership is a study in complementary strengths: Anne handles the deep operational complexity and the "family" culture, while Glasner focuses on growth strategy and financial rigor.

Despite the "Blue Years," Glasner remains an idealist. He believes Workpays is "the best company in the world," not because of its EBITDA margins, but because it saves lives from the scrapheap of long-term unemployment.

He is still looking to acquire. He still believes in the buy-and-build strategy, though he now approaches it with the chastened respect of an operator who knows how hard integration actually is. He knows he must stabilize the chassis of the current business before bolting on new engines.

For now, he is in the trenches. He is no longer the consultant analyzing the business from a spreadsheet in Los Angeles. He is the owner in Chesterfield, worrying about payroll, writing bids until midnight, and trying to be the father to the "third child" he always wanted.