The Real Cost Of Being At A Startup

It's more than just risk.

“So, where do you work?”

“I work at a startup.”

“Oh, okay - what does it do?”

*Enter awkward pause*

Every time I have had this conversation, the awkward pause enters. My mind fumbles like a three-year-old trying to catch the ball. I reach down to my core to explain to the other person what my startup does. Something that consumes me the entire time, but when someone asks me to define it - I’m clueless.

And this is a cost of being at a startup. The uncertainty.

We can all debate what a startup is and is not. Is it it the headcount? Is it the amount you raise in your pre-Series A round? Is it the number of customers you have?

For me, if things are uncertain, it’s a startup. Maybe by this definition, a small company isn’t a startup, but a large organization might be.

When things aren’t figured out yet, it’s fun and thrilling, and that’s why you want to be a startup. You want to challenge yourself and push yourself to the limit.

But who says you can’t get this in a non-startup company?

If I go back to answering the first question, let’s say I answer with, “I work at JP Morgan.” There’s a sparkle in the other person’s eyes. I don’t have to explain what it does. They know what JP Morgan is; they probably know someone else from their college who works there. They don’t care about what I do at JP Morgan, but being at JP is enough. They trust me already. I have status by association.

Let’s say I answered with Fampay, the startup where I worked. There’s a question mark staring right back at me. I now have to explain to someone what my startup does. Not only that, I have to explain to them why what my startup does is important and why our business model makes sense. It might not be important to them in many cases, but I still have to convince them that it is. They don’t trust me now. I can’t dazzle them with my company. 

This is a cost of being at a startup.

When you’re at a startup - you give up a lot. If you’re not giving up something, you must ask if it’s a startup. There’s nothing wrong with not being a startup, but I feel it’s wrong to lie to yourself that you’re at a startup. 

My previous organization didn’t feel like a startup to me most of the time. There was allocated work, allocated pay, and allocated ESOPs. You clocked in Monday and clocked out Friday at 6 p.m. It was great, but it wasn’t a startup for me.

Did I give up anything? Not really.

Was I uncertain about something? Not really.

I’ve been building things since I was 16, so I knew my definition of a startup was different. My life as a startup person has been different, too.

I didn’t get a credit card for the longest time because I didn’t have a salary. 

I don’t get expensive hotel stays or business class tickets, which my company pays for.

I never understood why I could not work on certain days because they were declared “public holidays.” For me, if there’s work to be done, it doesn’t matter if it’s a national holiday or a Sunday. I do my best work on Sunday - there’s no one to bother you. There’s quietness, and people are at ease by default. At a startup, the idea of holidays is blurred.

This is a cost of being a startup.

So why bear these costs?

Because I want to do it.

That’s it. That’s the only reason I want to be a startup. I get to do things I want to do. No one has to tell me to do them. I feel energy even when doing the most mundane things. When I’m writing an Excel query, I still want it to be the best freaking Excel query.

This thing outweighs all possible costs. There’s a different excitement. Things get personal. Things matter. 

Someone pointed this bug out on an app I’m working on. It was 7 a.m., and I had just woken up. I had to fix it immediately. I couldn’t wait for later. It was personal for me. That “kinda” hurt my soul.

This is the cost of being at a startup.

You accept the judgment, and you accept not being in the status quo. And there’s nothing about this which sucks for me. I love it. It gives me dopamine, similar to going on a roller coaster.

My friends who do regular jobs love adventure sports. It gives them dopamine. I’m down to do it with them, but I'm not crazy about it.

I don’t need to be crazy about it. I’m crazy about my work. I don’t need to go cliff jumping because I can just jump right into my work for my dopamine.

For many people, work is part of their life. I get that. But for me, my life is my work, and my work is my life. I don’t get the segregation.

This is a cost of being a startup.

A different commitment is required to bear these costs. This cost fuels the energy needed to lift startups off the ground and catapult them to the moon.