When You Lose the Contract… But Your Idea Still Gets Used

There is a particular kind of disappointment that only entrepreneurs understand.

You respond to a Request for Proposal in good faith. You think deeply about the problem. You design a structured, implementable solution. You give the client your best thinking, not just your best pricing. You don’t get the contract. Disappointing, yes. But that’s the nature of competition.

Then, a few months later, you see what is being implemented. And suddenly, rejection is no longer the real issue. Because what you are seeing looks uncomfortably familiar. The same logic. The same sequencing. The same structure. Different service provider. And now you are left with a much deeper question. Not, “Why did I lose?” But, “Is this how entrepreneurship is supposed to work?”

Most entrepreneurs are told to accept this quietly. We are told that this is just how procurement works. That we must move on, be mature, focus on the next opportunity. That bitterness is unprofessional and that resilience means silence. And often, we do exactly that.

But perhaps there is a harder question we are not asking loudly enough. At what point does “how the system works” become a practice that quietly exploits entrepreneurs? Because there is a power imbalance in RFP processes that we rarely acknowledge.

Corporates hold the budgets, the access, the legal protection, and the final decision. Entrepreneurs bring the thinking, the innovation, the intellectual labour, and the risk. And in many RFP processes, that intellectual labour is taken for free, with very little protection and almost no consequence.

Legally, this may be acceptable. Ethically, it is far more complicated. The uncomfortable truth is this. Most RFP systems are designed to extract maximum information before committing to a provider. Your proposal is read by multiple people. It is discussed in committees. It is summarised in internal documents. It is used to shape the final scope of work. By the time a provider is appointed, the final design is often a blend of ideas from several bidders.

On paper, this is competitive procurement. In practice, it often becomes unpaid strategy harvesting. And that raises a serious question for any ecosystem that claims to support entrepreneurship. Can we keep calling this a fair market if the cost of participating is giving away your thinking?

When entrepreneurs recognise their ideas in someone else’s delivery, three paths usually appear.

• Some consider calling it out immediately. This only works in rare cases, where duplication is near identical, confidentiality clauses exist, and the relationship allows for a professional conversation. Even then, the best outcome is usually explanation, not correction. And the risk is real: you may protect your pride, but lose future access.

• Others wait until the contract ends, hoping that timing will give them leverage. In reality, by then teams have moved on, decisions are history, and the value has already been extracted. Delayed justice in procurement is usually just delayed silence.

• And so most experienced entrepreneurs choose the third option. They let it go. Not because it is right. But because it is often the only commercially rational choice. And perhaps that is the most troubling part of all. This is where corporates need to be held more accountable.

If organisations genuinely care about entrepreneurship, transformation, and supplier development, then this practice cannot remain unexamined. Entrepreneurs are not free consultants. RFPs are not innovation harvesting tools. And competitive bidding should not mean unpaid strategy extraction.

Ethical procurement is not only about compliance. It is about respect. Respect for intellectual labour, even when a provider is not appointed. Respect for boundaries on how proposals may be used. Respect for testing capability without absorbing full methodologies.

Supporting entrepreneurs is not only about funding, panels, and mentorship programmes. It is about how you treat their thinking when they are not selected. Until systems change, this experience teaches entrepreneurs a difficult form of maturity. It teaches us to protect our thinking more deliberately. To share frameworks, not full playbooks. To position capability, not give away entire methods.

It teaches us to be more strategic about where we compete, because not every RFP deserves our best intellectual work. And it teaches us to build brands that reduce this risk, because when clients want you, not just an idea, they stop shopping your thinking.

The final lesson is not only personal. It is systemic. Every entrepreneur will lose a contract. Some will lose an idea. But the deeper issue is this: An ecosystem that grows on the unpaid thinking of entrepreneurs is not sustainable.

If we want strong, innovative supplier markets, we must protect the very first thing entrepreneurs bring to the table. Their minds. And until that changes, maturity in business will require two things at the same time. The discipline to let go. And the courage to keep asking whether the system itself needs to grow up.

Yours in development,

The Business Doctor, Keitumetse Lekaba