Why One CBD Founder Chose Integrity Over Millions

Steve’s Goods founder Steven Schultheis was standing alone in his empty Colorado warehouse at 2 a.m., surrounded by 10,000 bottles of CBD gummies he could no longer legally sell in the state, when everything came down to a choice.

“I could have just changed the formula,” he says quietly, remembering that night. “Added a synthetic compound, played the regulatory game. Would have saved me a million dollars and a cross-country move.”

Instead, he picked up one of the original bottles — now kept in his Louisville, Ky., office — and thought about 71-year-old Margaret Chen in Denver.

For four years, Chen has ordered Steve’s Goods CBD gummies every month to help manage the arthritis in her hands. Last Christmas, she sent Schultheis a photo of a quilt she’d made — something she hadn’t been able to do before she found his product.

“She trusts me,” he says. “How could I change what works for her just to make my life easier?”

So Schultheis did something nearly unheard of in the CBD industry: he packed up his company and moved it 1,100 miles to Kentucky so he could keep making the exact same gummies his customers depended on.

In a market crowded with more than 3,000 CBD brands — and dominated by venture capital and celebrity launches from Martha Stewart to Rob Gronkowski— Schultheis stands apart not because he’s famous or well funded, but because he refused to alter a formula that worked.

“Most people think I’m insane,” he admits. The numbers suggest they might have a point. The move cost him $400,000. He lost 30 percent of his customers. He spent months sleeping on an air mattress inside the new facility after pouring every dollar into production.

But then you meet him, often at a hemp expo, wearing the same marijuana-leaf jacket he bought for $40 at a head shop in 2017, and the logic becomes clearer.

Steve doesn’t dress like a CEO because he doesn’t think like one. While competitors chase influencers and branding firms, he still answers customer emails himself, still tests every batch, still wears the jacket because, as he puts it, “It makes people smile.”

The jacket has become something of a legend.

“This guy shows up at my farm wearing a weed jacket and starts asking me about soil mineral content,” recalls Tom Bradley, his Colorado hemp supplier. “We talked for six hours. He wanted to know everything, down to what music I played for the plants.”

That obsessive attention to detail began in 2016, after Schultheis discovered CBD helped relieve chronic back pain from a construction accident. Disappointed by the products on the market, he decided to make his own.

What followed were what he calls his “thousand hours of failure” — melted gummies, bad flavors, inconsistent batches, maxed-out credit cards.

“I found him passed out at his kitchen table at 3 a.m., surrounded by chemistry textbooks and gummy molds,” recalls his ex-girlfriend Sarah. “I thought he’d lost his mind.”

By 2018, after relocating to Colorado, Schultheis had developed something rare: a vegan, organic CBD gummy with exactly 10mg of CBD in every piece, every time. Word spread slowly, then all at once — through athletes, yoga instructors, and grandparents — without a marketing budget or social campaigns.

By 2023, Steve’s Goods had grown to 15 employees and customers in all 50 states where hemp is legal. Buyout offers followed.

“Eight million dollars,” Schultheis says. “But they wanted to mass produce in China, use cheaper ingredients. What’s the point of having money if you can’t sleep at night?”

When Colorado’s regulatory changes threatened his formula, competitors pivoted to synthetic cannabinoids. Schultheis moved out of state instead.

“I watched him pack every single bottle by hand for the move,” says operations manager Nicole Roy. “He thinks every gummy has a person waiting for it.”

At the Kentucky facility, Motown plays over speakers while workers measure ingredients, because “plants and people work better with soul music,” Schultheis insists. He stops at quality control, inspects a gummy, then eats it.

“Perfect,” he says.

The move to Kentucky meant starting over with new suppliers, new regulations, new everything. He spent his 36th birthday alone in the empty warehouse, wondering if he’d made a mistake. Then the emails started coming. Margaret from Denver: “Please tell me you’re still making my gummies.” David from Austin: “My dad needs his next order, doesn’t matter where you are.” A veteran from Alabama: “Your products are the only thing that helps me sleep. Don’t you dare stop.”

“I printed every single one,” Steve says, noting a wall covered in customer emails. “On the bad days, when I wonder what the hell I’m doing, I read them.”

Six months later, the business is thriving again. But his motivation hasn’t changed.

“People ask me about my exit strategy,” Steve says. “Like, when am I going to cash out, sell to some corporation, retire to a beach somewhere. They don’t get it. This isn’t about an exit. It’s about Margaret making her quilts. It’s about that veteran sleeping through the night. It’s about proving you can build something real without selling your soul.”

Margaret laughs when his name comes up. “That’s Steve,” she says. “In a world full of companies trying to get rich off CBD, he’s just trying to help people feel better.”

Maybe that’s why a guy in a $40 weed jacket who chose integrity over millions is winning — by the only metric he cares about: promises kept.