Forging Business Warriors: Insights from Gladiator Summit Founder Dariush Soudi

Let’s share the story of where life began and how you ended up where we are today.

My life began in Iran, and that’s where our journey started. I was only three and a half when my father passed away. He was 29, and my mother was 23. My sister was just 30 days old at the time. They didn’t tell me for a year that he had died. They decided not to, thinking it would spare me the pain. Every day, I waited outside the house, expecting him to return from his business trip. One night, they dressed me up and took me somewhere. I found everyone crying, and my grandfather, who had taken custody of me, told me my dad was dead. It was then I realised I couldn’t even trust my family because they had lied to me. I think that feeling has stayed with me.

I was about four and a half when I remember sitting on my grandfather’s lap, seeing the people crying, and not understanding what was going on. There was a grave with a picture of my dad on the wall, marking his sixth anniversary. A couple of years later, my grandfather died in front of me. He complained of chest pain, took a hot shower, and then went to sleep, never waking up. They took me to the neighbour’s house to shield me from what happened, but I could hear the chaos. I looked out the window and saw my grandfather’s body being taken away on a stretcher, covered with a white sheet. No one seemed to care; they were all lost in their own world.

Back then, what did you imagine your career would be? Did you think about creative possibilities for the future?

When I was 14, I asked my mom, “How do people get jobs?” because I really didn’t know. I struggled with maths and, being dyslexic, I knew it wouldn’t be in numbers. People would tell me, “You’re a good talker, try sales,” so I figured that might be the path for me. I left school at 16, after taking my A-levels and getting three O’s, and jumped into sales.

We moved to England when I was 12, and I was bullied for two years. I couldn’t speak a word of English and was the first foreign kid at my school. I didn’t want to complain to my mom, though, because she was always down and married to an alcoholic stepdad who made things worse. I had to handle everything on my own. I learned English without an accent, just so people wouldn’t know I was a foreigner. I remember, when I supported Liverpool back in Iran, I’d say “Liverpool” with an accent on the “i,” and I’d get beaten up for it. That’s when I decided I needed to master my pronunciation—everything was about survival.

As a teenager, you finished your A-levels, but they didn’t go as well as you hoped. Did you still hold onto any ideals at that time?

I did my A-levels, but I didn’t really show up for them. I coasted through the process, taking a year off because I was lazy. At school, I was always active—playing squash, football, whatever I could. I was the best in my town, but not because I was especially talented. I just never quit and kept pushing myself. I had a lot of energy, but I hit a limit where younger, better-trained players started beating me. I had too many bad habits.

When my mom found out I hadn’t been going to school for a year, I finished up college, scraped three O’s, retook them, and managed a couple of passes. After that, I went straight into sales—selling photocopiers, fax machines, you name it. I worked hard, but I wasn’t a natural salesperson. I just put in the effort. I always say that if you’re a bad salesperson selling a bad product, you can still make a sale if you knock on enough doors. So, while my colleagues were out at the pub, I was knocking doors in Northampton on a Friday afternoon.

Did you have anyone mentoring you or showing you the ropes?

No, no one ever taught me. I’ve always been self-taught. Then my ex-wife introduced me to Tony Robbins and personal development. That’s when I started reading books. Before that, it was all about hard work and learning from experience—sitting in my car, reflecting on where I went wrong and how I could improve. Eventually, I realised that some of the things I was doing naturally were actually being taught in America, like how to overcome objections.

Looking back, what would you say were a couple of the biggest mistakes you were making in sales that you didn’t have anyone to guide you through?

I should be where I am now, but I learned everything the hard way, which cost me two heart attacks, £100 million, and 20 years of my life. But if things had been easier, would I have the same level of humility and gratitude? It’s hard to say. I’m still a seeker, always learning more than ever. Back then, if I wanted to learn something, I had to figure it out myself—there was no one to turn to. I’d go to the library, but there weren’t any books from successful people to guide me. Today, we have so much information at our fingertips, and I’m excited to keep learning. Those were tough times, but they shaped me.

Given your tough upbringing—being bullied, fighting, skipping school—weren’t you perhaps resistant to learning more at that time? Not out of arrogance, but more out of stubbornness, thinking you could do it on your own? Did discovering Tony Robbins open your eyes to a new way of thinking?

You know what it was? From the moment I discovered Tony Robbins, I had this sense of responsibility—I was told it was my job to take care of my family. That responsibility kept me going. I didn’t think about the future; I thought I’d live forever. But I did start keeping track of time, counting the days. By 1990, I’d be this many days old, by 2000, that many. If I lived to 76, I’d only have so many days left. So I made sure not to waste time.

I’d seen young people die, and it hit me hard—life is limited, and people walk around acting like they’ll live forever. It breaks my heart to see people waste their time, unaware of the regrets they’ll have when they’re older. I was driven by the need to provide, not just for personal growth, but because I had to earn money. And deep down, there was this fire to prove my mom wrong. She told me I was useless, so I set out to show her I wasn’t. Even recently, when my book sold out in a day, I couldn’t resist telling her.

When I told her, “Hey, mom, my book came out and sold out in a day,” she didn’t say, “Wow, that’s amazing!” She just asked, “Who would buy your book?” It’s been like that my whole life—she could always get under my skin, but she’d never say, “I’m proud of you” or “You’re amazing.”

How does that influence the way you act as a parent? Do you ever worry about repeating those same patterns with your kids, or has it made you want to do the complete opposite?

I don’t think I’ve been a perfect dad. Why? Because there are many times I’ve been very reactive, even today—I still carry that anger inside. People see me as calm and collected, but when I snap, it can be dangerous. It’s calmed down over the years, but back in England, I was in and out of jail for fighting. I didn’t care if I got caught or if I lost. I would just lash out, driven by that anger inside. As I’ve gotten older, I’ve realised that this anger isn’t helpful—it won’t serve me well in the long run. I remember sitting in jail in my suit, my knuckles bleeding, thinking about how foolish it was. It was an embarrassment.

I made the decision to calm down after that. Since coming to Dubai, I’ve lost it only three times.

So, during your 20s, when you were doing a lot of selling, were you selling for yourself or for someone else?

It was for other people. My first company was in computers. PCs had just started coming out, and before that, everything was in large server rooms. I saw an opportunity to take those servers and convert them into desktop machines. I teamed up with an engineer, and we started assembling these small desktop systems. I went door-to-door, and it worked really well. We were ahead of the game, even before Dell entered the market.

Then I got into photocopiers, and that’s when I met my second wife, who was a beauty therapist. Things were going okay, but I felt like I needed a change. Interestingly, after a few years, people started losing respect for the work I was doing as a computer assembler. What had been unique a few years earlier became commonplace—kind of like how being a social media manager was once impressive, but then everyone started doing it. I felt like I wasn’t getting the recognition I deserved, so I decided to move on.

That’s when I got into the beauty industry. I went to a beauty show and asked a vendor what their unique selling point was. She replied, “It smells good, and the boxes have nice colours,” but that wasn’t enough for me. I wanted to know the benefits. No one had an answer. I turned to my wife, Michelle, and said, “I think I can do well in this industry.” So, we flew to America, found some products that were more results-driven, rather than just focusing on smell or packaging, and they did really well.

We ended up saturating the UK and Europe. I left the computer business, and Michelle was running a beauty salon above a post office. But I had an idea: why not create a health club outside of town? We decided to try it, and within the first year, we had 10,000 people walk through the door, but the problem was no one was signing up as members. I said to Michelle, “Look, I’ve got the traffic, but I need you because you’re the farmer, and I’m the hunter.”

After a year, Michelle joined the business, and everything took off. Over the next 17 years, we grew to seven clubs, 30,000 members, and 600 staff. It was a huge success.

What happened? 

After our divorce, my ex moved to Dubai, and I took care of the kids. I was running 3D Kids, a business making glass blocks with 3D images. Inspired by one I saw in Dubai, I expanded into UK kindergartens but ran out of money. To raise funds, I franchised the business but unknowingly sold to a dangerous man. He later broke into my house with accomplices, threatening my life and my kids. I sent my kids to Dubai, left for Spain, and the man was arrested, but he only got house arrest, which felt like a letdown.

Not long after, I had a heart attack. Realising I wanted a fresh start, I moved with my new wife to Dubai. I negotiated partial repayments with creditors, left my Spanish properties, and faced a £30,000 VAT dispute that led creditors to freeze my account, leaving me unable to trade normally. In the end, I paid everyone off and arrived in Dubai with just $700, exhausted but ready to start over.

When did things start to turn around for you? What was your first big business success in Dubai?

My first real deal came just when I was on the brink of losing my mind. Back then, before 2009, business was booming, and everyone in Dubai seemed to be thriving. I was a seasoned sales consultant, having been in sales my whole life, and I thought I could add value. But with so much money flowing in, no one felt they needed a consultant.

Then the recession hit, and suddenly, people weren’t making easy money anymore. The phone started ringing. So I offered to increase sales on a commission basis—if I boosted their profits, I’d take a percentage of that growth. That’s how I made my first big money. I trained sales teams, implemented a seven-step recruitment program I’d used in my own companies abroad, and started charging around 7,000 dirhams ($2,000) per hour.

Within six months, I was fully booked, moved into my own place at The Address, then a one-bedroom apartment. I had vision boards and cards everywhere, reminding me of my goals, and I hit each one every six months.

I became my own motivation, thinking of my kids and the life I wanted to provide for them. I never had anyone guiding me; it was just me. But I kept asking myself if my son would be proud of what I was doing. Those invisible judges helped me make choices I could be proud of. And now, I’m doing better than ever.

You just called yourself a gladiator. Was that the first time you started thinking of yourself that way, or has the concept of a gladiator been something you’ve connected with throughout your life?

I’ve always felt a strong connection to Rome. I used to go sit in the Colosseum for hours, almost like I belonged there. I wasn’t imagining myself as an emperor, but maybe as someone who fought in that arena. History, especially Rome, has always spoken to me. I realised we’re all born into a kind of financial slavery, and the more people we serve, the freer we become. Unlike those ancient times, we tend to dabble with life, but if you’d done that in the arena, it’d mean death. I didn’t want a slow, agonising defeat; I wanted to approach every meeting, every challenge, like a gladiator fighting for survival.

I see how many people wake up and are practically conditioned to expect failure. They’re told about high business failure rates like it’s inevitable. It feels like we’re trained to accept defeat. But one thing my mother taught me was never to be jealous. Instead, I’d look at successful people and think, “What are they doing that’s different?” I’d study what made them fly first class or achieve their goals. Rather than envy, I’ve always felt inspired by success. For me, it’s about asking the right questions and pushing myself to find the answers.

When did you begin sharing the knowledge you’d been gaining with others? I know you’ve always done it throughout your career, but specifically, when did you start hosting events, building the Gladiator brand, launching the podcast? Was this a more recent development, or was it part of your overall business strategy and a way of giving back?

There wasn’t one defining moment where I had a business model or a specific vision to go in a certain direction. About seven years ago, one of my students, who was also an entrepreneur in the events business, asked me if I wanted to share my story in a show. There were 160 people at this event, and I ended up speaking for three hours instead of the one hour I was given, much to the frustration of the other speakers. But in that room, there was a shift — people were crying, dancing, and hugging each other. Someone even posted about it on Facebook, and suddenly I had thousands of followers.

That’s when I thought, “Maybe my approach works.” Soon after, people started asking me to speak at their events, and I thought, “If I can fill a room with 20 or 30 people, I can teach them for a fee. But if I have bigger rooms, I could scale this.” So, I started running my own seminars, like Gladiator Mastery, where I’d gather 100 people and charge $3,000 each. But selling the tickets was exhausting — I was doing all the sales myself, like a brain surgeon who also runs the pharmacy.

By May 2023, I was burned out and decided to stop. I thought, “I’m rich now, I don’t need this.” But the phone kept ringing, with people asking about my next event. I realised the pain point was the high ticket price, so I decided to drop it, make it easier to buy online, and offer a 24-hour speaking event. I got the best venue in Dubai, called a few of my friends who had valuable contributions, and launched the Gladiators Summit in April 2024.

At first, I wasn’t sure if anyone would show up, but we sold out in 4-5 weeks, and with five weeks to go, we were turning people away. The event was life-changing for many; people were hugging, crying, and leaving saying it was the best day of their lives. They were asking about the next one, and I wasn’t planning to do another. But within a week, I was looking at venues for a larger event at the World Trade Center, already selling 1,500 tickets with five weeks left to go. Now, the phone’s ringing with world-renowned speakers wanting to speak at my events, and some even paying me to do so.

When it came to organising, I didn’t want it to be just another business event. I wanted it to be something different. I hired a friend to manage the event and we created something unique. We added music, entertainment, and a vibe that made it feel like more than just a seminar. It turned into a full-scale production — something on a level beyond even the biggest seminars I’ve attended, like those by Tony Robbins. It was designed to make people feel connected, supportive, and engaged in a way that was completely different from the norm.

Who typically attends your events? Is it a mix of people from all areas of business?

Interestingly, although I initially feared that my audience would mostly be the typical “Gladiator” type—those with six-packs and a tough exterior—about 65-70% of my followers are women. I feel that women are catching up and becoming more determined, working harder to regain their independence. They don’t carry much ego; they just want to achieve their goals, and they’re more open to learning and embracing change.

Honestly, if I were single, I’d say it’s an incredible opportunity to meet people, because these women are committed. They’re becoming part of this tribe, and it’s inspiring to see. At times, I struggle with imposter syndrome. I once asked my team, “Why are over 50% of the people here to hear me speak?” It made me realise that my message is reaching people. I have millions of followers, and it hit me that this actually means something—I’m changing lives.

What will your talk focus on? Do you share stories from your journey to inspire others, or do you also provide practical, tactical advice?

Definitely. Everyone will receive specific, tactical advice. The first time I spoke, I was running on no sleep for 48 hours, completely unprepared and struggling to manage my speakers, who were still presenting well into the early hours with a new presentation. It was my first event, and I had never done anything like that before. I could barely see or think straight, so I ended up writing down notes I couldn’t even read. I spoke for about a minute, then stepped off the stage.

This time, I knew people didn’t come just to hear me speak. I wanted to give more of a platform to my speakers, but I speak from the heart. On April 27th, my first event, I said one thing: I wanted to bring my 30-year-old son on stage. He didn’t have the normal childhood because he spent his school breaks cold-calling with me, making sure I stayed busy. Without him, I wouldn’t be here today. The crowd was in tears, and I was too. It was just raw vulnerability, and people still tell me how much that moment moved them.

There’s clearly a huge amount of effort that goes into organising these events. Do you think this could be the final one, the pinnacle of your journey, or do you see yourself continuing and pushing forward?

Honestly, I didn’t expect to cry. It’s strange because I never thought I’d become an event organiser—it didn’t seem like it would add value to my life. But now, things have changed. I’m receiving calls from people like Grant Cardone, and even a chef from Dubai. People are recognizing me as the go-to guy. Suddenly, my stature has grown in the eyes of others. I’m now being invited to advise Royal Highnesses and help with businesses, and just a year ago, I was the one making those calls. Tomorrow, a major developer with a $2.5 billion project is coming to our office for branding advice, and I never expected that.

So, if these events are scaling my brand, I might as well do another one. But I’m not sure if I’ll do one at this scale again. The jump from 600 to 2,500 attendees is a massive increase in work—twenty times more. The logistics alone are huge, and I expect to lose around $2 million. But despite that, the byproduct of it all has been far more valuable than I ever imagined.

Before we wrap up, I’ve got to ask you—just before we started recording, you mentioned you were feeling tired and a bit grumpy, and you said, “What do I do all this for? Why not just give it up?” So, what’s the answer? Why do you keep pushing through the struggles? Why not just take it easy on a desert island and relax on the beach?

I don’t have to work another day in my life to live off my past. In fact, I earn more money while I’m on holiday than I do in Dubai. When I’m on vacation, I’m not spending—I’m just earning. So, I asked myself, “Why am I doing all this?” I’ll give you an example. A few months ago, I took a weekend off with my family to enjoy some quality time, no phone calls, just time together. Then, as we were heading from the hotel to the restaurant, a guy stopped me and asked, “Are you Mr. Darius Z?” He told me that he had lost his mother two months ago, and a week after that, his wife died. He said my podcast and videos kept him going, and they literally saved his life.

At the weirdest moments, when I’m questioning myself, I get messages like this, telling me that I’ve changed someone’s life. It’s like God is saying, “Don’t give up. You’re making a difference.” For me, it’s about leaving a legacy. I want thousands of people to look back and say, “He changed our lives.” It’s for my kids, too. Along the way, I’ve created over 3,000 videos that will hopefully help the next generation. One day, maybe my great-grandkids will know that their great-grandfather was a good person who tried to make a positive impact.