I started thinking about writing this post as a “10 things I’ve learned living/working in startup land,” but I’m so sick of “10 things” posts I could puke.
And given my compromised health status lately, puking is not that far fetched.
About a year ago, I was up before the sun, around 4:30am, standing on the tailgate of a U-haul truck in sub freezing temperatures, wondering how to squeeze a water cooler into the bowels of a truck already spilling over with my family’s belongings. The large, red cooler tipped off the tailgate as I was struggling to dig through the mess of chairs, end tables, and odds-and-ends that were thrown in at last-minute desperation time. The cooler hit the pavement–and ice, lunchmeat, and various other perishables flew out of the top and spread across the salt encrusted street. Great.
Thus began my and my family’s journey from the “Silicon Slopes” to the Silicon Valley. After driving for twelve-or-so hours with three anxious children through desert, wastelands, and a slippery mountain pass, we arrived at what would be our home for the foreseeable future.
I wondered then, and I reflect now, at what’s changed over the past year. Possibly even more important, I think about what’s stayed the same.
A PhD in Startups
When my wife and I started evaluating the risk/benefit of uprooting our family and moving to the Bay Area to join a fresh new startup, we tried to be as realistic as possible. We knew that most startups don’t make it, many don’t even get funding (ours hadn’t yet). There was a very real possibility that we would spend a ridiculous amount of money to pack all of our stuff into a truck, move two states horizontally, increase our rent by over 100%, and then a few short months later be faced with having to make the long trek back “home” with our tails between our legs.
What we realized would still be a net “gain” in that scenario would be the learning experience that living in startup land would afford us. I’ve done startups before, but never like this. Never here, with these kinds of people. Never with this amount of intensity, focus, and with so much on the line. It was a sink-or-swim moment, or maybe more appropriately, a “burn the boats” moment for me and my family.
Not looking back has lead to an all-in approach to tackling difficult problems. With precious few resources, there is no time to not know how to do something. If something needs doing and the task falls to you, there’s no time to learn like the present. Talk about sharpening your saw.
Never would I have imagined that in a year I could have doubled the skill set that took me more than five years to develop. The speed of startups puts you in the chair, and the pressing needs of product put the needle into the back of your head. “I know kung-fu."
At the very least, I’d come out of this gig with a PhD in startups, experience that you can’t buy or matriculate for.
Family
Doubts? There were plenty. Doubters? Even more. Friends wondered if we’d last a month in San Francisco, colleagues wondered if we’d still exist as a family when it was all said and done. I wondered myself: "Is it realistic for a married father of three to work in such an early stage startup?” There’s a reason that a lot of folks that do this are single, young, and still struggle to find balance. Startups consume you. There’s never enough time to do all the work. Always another fire to put out, another bug to fix, another feature to implement. There is no time clock, no 9-to-5, no sick days. Where would my kids fit in? How would my wife handle the long hours, the relentless pace and intensity of a job that would literally take all of my energy?
“How do you do a startup with kids and a wife?” someone might ask me some day. My answer, I’ve realized after going through incredible highs and deep lows, is how could I have done it without them?
Having some skin in the game is great motivation, but try having three beautiful mouths to feed at home. Try considering failure in the sense that you can’t afford to be homeless–you can’t sleep on a friend’s couch or even crash at the office. You have to keep a roof over your family’s head. That’s pressure. But it’s the kind of pressure that drives you to succeed, to find a way. When I look my son in the eyes as he asks me “Daddy, when are we going to move again?” I find a resolute determination that reveals an inner strength: I can’t fail. Or more accurately, I can’t fail them.
Lest you suspect that my family acted as nothing more than motivational baggage, the other side of the coin is that I needed them far more than they needed me. Cranking through code and scratching features of a list of to-dos is a fulfilling process, but startups are a heck of a lot more than that. Startups are failure, disappointment, shattered hopes and yet-another-swing-and-a-miss. Dealing with those prospects are taxing emotionally, spiritually, physically. When I would come home from a particularly frustrating day or finish a stretch of sleepless nights with no end in sight, my wife provided comfort beyond words. She is the consummate partner–she believes in me, supports me, and encourages me when I can’t find the strength to do much more than crack open the computer or hit the snooze button.
But beyond respite and comfort, my family has also provided inspiration. The daily grind has its way of rubbing off the sparkling edges of your creativity. You lose the passion, you burn out. As trite as it might sound, playing with my kids is as much therapeutic and energizing for me as it is healthy and constructive for them.
This isn’t to say that I’m wonderful at balancing startup life and family life. Far from it. Many nights my wife slowly shakes her head as I say for the fifth time “I’m almost done,” behind bloodshot eyes and a dirty computer screen. She finally gives up and goes to bed. And balancing kids? I think one of the most heartbreaking experiences I’ve had over the past year is having my four year old ask “Daddy, why do you have to work so much?” Balance is tough, and I’m still working at it. It’s so easy to justify spending more time on work, but these are critical times for my family just as they are for my startup, and if I’m going to work I need to be absolutely sure I know what I’m giving up.
What’s Important
So after a year living in startup land, I can honestly say the biggest gains are not equity, valuable networking or even improved, marketable skills. 2012 taught me a lot more about what’s important in my life. It’s somewhat of a liberating experience to see what remains after free time melts away before the heat and pressure from work. I don’t have time for video games anymore. When I carve out some free time and I’m faced with the choice between a Starcraft 2v2 and spending precious moments with the girl of my dreams to watch Up All Night whilst stashing some Oreos and milk, that’s not much of a choice.
If anything, the increased demands on my time and talents have put me in a position where I must spend my time on things that will give me the most ROI. A lot of time, that means working, coding, debugging. But sometimes, more often than I tend to do, that means pushing my kids in swings, eating ice cream sandwiches, and reading stories.
It means losing a lot of yourself for the benefit of your family, and secondly, good employment.
So although the future is no more sure (or brighter) than an overflowing U-haul truck on a cold February morning, 2012 has made me a smarter, better startupper and more importantly a better husband and dad.