What Esko and Kongsberg Taught Me

What Esko and Kongsberg Taught Me

In the early years of making cutting machines, reality often slapped me in the face.

In this industry, Esko and Kongsberg are two mountains you can't avoid. When I first entered the industry, I studied their design concepts every day, analyzing their process details. I thought that as long as I made the machine's quality and precision as good as theirs, customers would buy.

But those slaps made me see a path clearly.

The Story Behind These Two Names

Kongsberg started in Norway in 1965, originally making shipbuilding drafting and cutting tables, later becoming the hardware benchmark for packaging prototyping and digital cutting. Esko, with its ArtiosCAD packaging structure design software, defined how designers around the world draw boxes.

In 1998, Esko acquired Kongsberg. One held software, one held hardware. Together, they formed a complete closed loop from "design to cutting." In those years, when the industry mentioned high-end prototyping, they said "Esko Kongsberg" — two words spoken together, like one person's name.

But in 2020, Esko sold Kongsberg to OpenGate Capital. In 2021, Kongsberg became independent again, becoming Kongsberg PCS. Esko continued its software ecosystem.

The two separated. Because their strategic directions were different: Esko wanted to focus on software processes for the packaging supply chain. Kongsberg was more focused on cutting hardware.

I understood this — software is software, hardware is hardware. They were always two businesses. But the best solution is to let them grow together.

Lesson One: My Customer Mr. Su Taught Me.

He runs a large Hong Kong-funded enterprise. Years ago, he bought a Kongsberg machine, then switched to ours because after-sales service was too expensive. After several years, the machine was stable, and service was in place. But later, he ordered another Esko machine. Finance even accidentally transferred the deposit to our account.

I ran to ask him why. He took a drag of his cigarette and told me a hard truth: "Zhihua, it's not that your machines aren't good. It's that when I take orders from European and American customers, the client's client specifically requires seeing an Esko machine in my sample room."

That sentence hit me hard.

I thought I was selling machines. But in reality, customers were buying a credential.

Having an Esko or Kongsberg machine in the sample room is like having a Michelin-starred chef in the kitchen — it's not just about whether the food tastes good, it's about letting customers see: I'm at this level.

This is something I can't compete with at that time. No matter how good my machine's precision was, no matter how stable it was, I couldn't give customers this credential.

Lesson Two: Zhongshan Torch Polytechnic Taught Me.

I was invited to give a lecture on digital cutting technology. After the lecture, a professor took me to see their packaging engineering lab.

The lab had an Esko Kongsberg machine. But the professor told me: we don't use it much now. It's too old, and maintenance is expensive. But we can't remove it.

I asked why.

He said: students come to learn packaging engineering. If they've never seen an Esko machine, how will they know what the industry standard is when they graduate? We can't train students with non-standard equipment.

I understood again.

Esko and Kongsberg aren't just machines — they're a standard. They've become part of the education system, becoming the ruler in students' minds. Once this ruler is established, it's extremely difficult to change.

This is something I can't compete with at that time either. No matter how good my machine's cost-performance ratio was, I couldn't change the education system's cognition.