The last two years have been a struggle, but just when I thought I was finally starting to see the rain subside and the clouds part to reveal the sun, I now find myself with too much opportunity. The light is blinding, so much so that I find myself at a crossroads. After the company I worked for made $1B on work I produced (not alone, but on a team of less than ten people), I found myself feeling the inequity of corporate slavery. I gave up a low six figure income for the chance to get a much bigger piece of each of many smaller pies. So I started my own company and began offering consulting services to start-up companies with big ideas and shallow pockets. One of the projects I accepted was Tour Wrist (http://tourwrist.com), which has seen incredible success, due in large part to my contribution. I can’t divulge any details here, but let’s just say they are well on their way to spectacular life-changing good fortune, and I’m really proud of what we’ve built together and what they’ve done with our baby since my departure.
I feel kinda like an asshole to single out Tour Wrist, as that seems to downplay the significance of the other ventures I’ve invested my sweat equity in over the last 2yrs. That’s mainly because the others have yet to start along the path of fully realizing their potential. I can tell you from personal experience that anyone who tells you they’re certain to convert a dream into an 18mo acquisition is a con artist (except maybe the folks at Instagram). Companies take time to build, nurture, and take flight. I should know. In addition to my entrepreneurial ambitions, I’m also a rocket scientist, so I know a thing or two about what’s involved with actual flight. Despite Douglas Adams’ brilliant notion that flying is all about throwing yourself at the ground and missing, it ain’t that easy.
It’s equally difficult to build a company, doubly so in a short time. And yet, I’ve managed to sow the seeds of greatness in no fewer than five ventures over the past few years. This, naturally, has made me extremely valuable to my venture partners. At the same time, though, I’ve found myself stretched hopelessly thin, making commitments I can’t honor and generally being a dick about it. For that, I am truly sorry. It was never my intention to leave anyone high and dry. So far, I’ve been lucky that the ventures I’ve taken on have required a finite initial effort and small-to-medium maintenance effort. The beauty of a 1.0 product is that as long as you focus on the minimum viable features, the task is surprisingly well bounded and in some cases can be achieved in a few weeks of focused effort. The curse of a 1.0 product is the inevitable follow-on effort required once the product gains traction and begins to demand new features. This is a natural evolution of any successful product, and I was a fool to believe I could incubate the eggs and then let the hens take over the actual raising of the chicks. That path is wrought with disappointment.
To make matters worse, other companies have begun to notice my capabilities and are beating down my door with opportunities. I’m forced to make a choice between honoring my commitments to my existing ventures and breaking new ground with other clients. I have been operating under the single premise that I can deliver minor miracles, one at a time and usually in a week or two, for a while now. While that’s true, I’m leaving a trail of disappointed clients in my wake. At the risk of sounding immodest, there is no way these companies can replace me without crippling their budgets. I’ve done such herculean deeds for them that their disappointment lies not in my failing to meet expectations, but rather my dazzling them with talent they can’t retain. In short, I’ve set the bar so high, they can’t even hope to hire three people to do what I can do alone.
Walter: “Am I wrong, Dude?! AM I WRONG?!”
The Dude: “No, you’re not wrong, Walter, you’re just an asshole.”
This is my life. I am the VP of Engineering of at least two companies. I can’t define my job on a resume/CV because it’s so fucking nebulous. On top of that, I keep accepting new gigs because the companies I’m running are still in the fledgling pre-funded state, and I have mouths to feed. Murphy’s Law dictates that while last year was an exercise in six-pack abs resulting from abject poverty, I made more money this quarter than I made last year, and the rest of the year looks like it’ll be even better still. The problem is that all the ventures I’ve poured my heart and soul into are blowing up at the same time, but not in a way that would allow me to hire three people to deal with their collective day-to-day requirements. That means they’re all suffering from a talent vacuum, but haven’t enough resources to hire the talent they need to grow.
I feel like someone is holding out a fan of cards, asking me to choose one, and I know all of them are winners, but I will disappoint all but one. I want to be the old bull in the parable, but I’m beginning to feel like the heifer.