Late 90s, early 2000s. Technology wasn’t as reachable as it is now. The internet was something you “connected to” — dial-up sounds, long waits, and nervous glances at the screen. And back then, we were building interactive CD-ROMs. Yes, we were basically distributing software — as a CD. Software as a CD-ROM.

Burning one CD-ROM took 40 minutes. We’d leave the office, grab a coffee, go for a short walk, and come back hoping it hadn’t failed. If it burned without errors, it was a celebration. That was our workflow. Real desks. Real office hours. And a lot of real learning. Today, it feels nostalgic — but those were the early days of digital entrepreneurship.

In one project, we built a university preference assistant for students. You entered your exam score, and the software listed suitable departments. We distributed it nationwide with a major newspaper. The newspaper cost 1 unit. Our bundled CD version? 35 units. We negotiated with distributors and media outlets. Without knowing it, we were building SaaS — just in a physical format.

Sales were good, but the biggest surprise? Teachers started using it to offer consulting to students. So, beyond our expected users, another segment emerged — one willing to pay more for more features. Today we’d call them “power users.” Back then, it was just a happy accident.

Then one day, an old colleague came to us with a crazy idea: “Let’s create a CD with 10,000 web addresses.”

I laughed. We had search engines like Yahoo, Netscape, and AOL — who needs a CD full of links? But he was right. Computers were new, internet access was rare, and people were still used to finding information like they did in a phonebook.

So we built it. Government offices, municipalities, hospitals… all neatly categorized and alphabetized. The cover said: “10,000 WEB ADDRESSES.” It sold like crazy. Not through a newspaper, but through a large chain of bookstores. People wanted this. They were just starting to explore the internet — and a digital “directory” felt familiar.

Then it exploded. We released 20,000, then 30,000 entry versions. People started asking if they could advertise in the CD. “Can we put our logo under this category?” “Can our office be listed at the top?” We had never thought about ads inside software — but we said yes. Some even bought large quantities to distribute the CD as a promotion. Just like that, our software became a media platform.

With that confidence, we went further. We created CD-ROMs to promote historic and touristic sites. We translated them into eight languages, redesigned the UI and packaging for each audience. One version for German tourists, another in French, another in English. We added advertisements inside and out. It was part guide, part commercial space. One publisher offered to buy all rights. We sold it that very night. For them, it was innovation. For us, it was a sign — the CD-ROM era was reaching its end.

Years later, I realized: Everything I thought wouldn’t sell — sold. Every idea I dismissed as “too simple” was gone in days.

The lesson? Don’t underestimate simplicity. Don’t kill your idea just because it feels obvious. What seems “too basic” to you may be just what others need — if you present it well. Back then, it worked with CD-ROMs. Today, it works with micro SaaS.

Even today, if you build a tiny tool around AI — something like a custom prompt generator — and release it with clear value, people will buy it. Not because it’s complex, but because it solves a problem clearly.

So here’s my advice: Every month, solve one small problem. Launch one clear, focused micro SaaS. Don’t overthink it. Don’t doubt its value. Just ship it. The world has always bought simple ideas — when delivered at the right time, in the right way.

Final word:
We call it SaaS now. But back then, we were already doing it — with CD-ROMs. The format changed. The tools changed. But the problems people face? Still the same. Solve them, and you’ll always have a market.