Bracing for Impact

Peter Bunor Jr. leads the growth team for Field, a company focused on strengthening the supply chain for critical healthcare products. With a background that spans from child acting to policy work at the Presidency, Peter’s journey is defined by a deep personal connection to healthcare and a tenacious ability to start and execute consistently. In this story, he reflects on the moving goalposts of success, the burden of anxiety, and the essential delusion required to build something lasting.

The Unending Loop of the Consistent Starter

I like to think of myself as a consistent starter. Some things fail, some work. I’ve worked across policy, consulting, and media, and I even used to be a child actor. My studies in Public Administration shaped my early work in government and consulting, including a brief stint at the Presidency.

I met  Michael and Justin at least 2 years before Field, at a conference the day after I left government work. I was just there for the free food and drinks. I noticed someone who I thought looked as bored as I was, and that was Michael. We got talking, and eventually knew we’d work together somehow. At the time, there was no Field, and it would take another couple of years before they started and asked me to join them. 

The start of Field was triggered by observing obvious gaps in the supply chain that could be solved with software. We began as a software company before transitioning into commodity distribution, now focused on healthcare. I’ve always had a sense that I’d do some work in healthcare. My dad was once misdiagnosed and given the wrong medication, which put him in a coma. I was also quite sick as a child, so I was always interested in how healthcare systems work. The stakes are deeply human, and the problems are very complicated. I’m drawn to really complex wicked problems. 

The Anxiety of Moving Goalposts

There have been moments that crystallized the impact of what we’re building. One pharmacy owner sent us a video saying, “You guys have changed my life.” His shelves were empty when we started; a year later, the business was thriving, and he was applying for a master’s. That forced me to stop and reflect. I also think about friends and family who walk into hospitals and want to know that those facilities have the medications they need.

I don’t think I’ve ever had a clear or fixed definition of what success means to me. Personally, I thought making our first $100,000 would be huge, then we hit $100,000 a month, and the goalposts just kept moving.

There have been times when everything felt like it would fall apart. Oh, absolutely. But I remember thinking, “This cannot be how this ends.” I’m stubborn, maybe foolishly so, but I couldn’t accept not going till not physically or humanly possible. I once read that success is your capacity to take pain. I have the ability to roll with the punches.

The Essential Delusion Required to Build

The emotional weight of knowing our work directly affects people’s lives is heavy. If we don’t do a good job, people I care about could suffer. That’s pressure. You don’t want to fail—not your team, not your customers, not the people who believed in you early on. That’s what keeps me going. I feel like I have a few things to prove, and I can’t afford not to prove them. 

Everyone who’s built anything big battles anxiety. I have my own demons—the need to prove myself constantly. I set the highest bar for myself and continue to fight to reach it. To cope, I take long walks, I read, and I go to therapy.

This journey has cost me a lot: failed relationships, for one. The constant travel, the inability to switch off. You get colder because you have to make hard decisions even when everything’s on fire. I’m still learning how to strike a balance. I used to be just an “ideas guy”, entrepreneurship forced me to become an execution guy—to pair ideas with action. That’s been the biggest shift. I sustain belief with a lot of self-confidence, maybe too much. There’s some delusion in it, but you need that to build anything. I remind myself that if not me, then who? I try to give my utmost.

Bracing for Impact: The Legacy

The part of my story people rarely see is the amount of work and the toll it takes—the anxiety, pressure, fear of failure, the constant need to prove yourself. I’ve been intentional about not showing that side, but it’s hard to communicate that toll unless you’ve lived it.

Entrepreneurship is a lonely journey, especially at night when you can’t sleep. You can’t wake your partner to talk about it. It’s all in your head. Burnout and stress are real.

If I could send a voice note to my younger self, I would share one truth: it’s going to be harder and longer than you ever imagined. And the advice: brace for impact.

I hope the legacy I leave is that people, especially those I’ve worked closely with, see that I worked hard for something I believed in without losing myself in the process. For me to look back and say it was all worth it, beyond an exit that brings freedom, is this: if people in the countries we operate can trust the quality of their medications because they came through Field, that would be massive.