
For most of my career, work came with clear boundaries.
Everyone had a title. Everyone had a territory. And as long as you found the right person within that territory, things usually got done properly, and “accordingly.” There was comfort in that clarity.
In corporate environments, people are often careful not to step into someone else’s territory. Sometimes it’s about respect. Sometimes it’s about process. And sometimes, jokingly but not entirely untrue, it’s because stepping in might mean someone else doesn’t have enough work.
Then I stepped into the startup world — and everything flipped.
In a startup, people want you to step into their territory. Resources are constantly stretched. Time is limited. Headcount is tight. An extra pair of hands, or even just another brain thinking through a problem, is more than welcome.
No one asks which team you’re on or what your job title is. If you can help, you’re in.
Only later did I realise this mindset closely resembles a company slogan I once heard from China: “As long as you can do it, you step up.” Back then, it sounded motivational. Now, I finally understand it.
Learning to manage my own “highway”
Another adjustment came from something seemingly small, yet deeply telling: how people collaborate.
For years, I worked in Google Workspace — shared documents, real-time edits, seamless collaboration. It felt efficient and natural.
Then I joined the startup and found Excel files being emailed back and forth. Versions of versions. Updates layered on top of updates.
My first instinct was disbelief. My second was to change it.
But I learned quickly that changing how people work isn’t just about better tools. It’s about timing, trust, and shared readiness.
So I took a deep breath. I swallowed my internal commentary. I kept my head up, my smile on, and worked with what the team was comfortable with.
My way was not the highway — even if, in my opinion, it was still the better one (well, says a Xoogler).
Also Read: Value creation: When startups die surrounded by capital
In startups moving at light speed, getting things done matters more than rebuilding infrastructure. There will be time to improve systems later — if the business survives long enough to get there.
Sometimes, progress starts with letting go of your own fixation.
Being ready to pivot — constantly
My title on this journey has been “Head of Special Projects.” In reality, that meant being thrown into operations, marketing, customer service, sales, hiring, training, PR, procurement, and whatever else came up.
If you ask me, honestly, which of these I had experience in before, the answer is simple: none. Absolutely none.
My background was in partnerships and business development. That was my comfort zone.
But I chose not to let my past experience define what I could do next.
This journey has been a long series of saying “yes, and” to projects I had no idea how to handle — and then figuring things out along the way. What made it possible was knowing I wasn’t alone. Most people on the team were facing steep learning curves, too.
There were no formal training programmes. No certifications. No colour-coded belts like in corporate life. There was orientation, and then there was reality.
We learned by doing. By talking to people. By making mistakes — and fixing them fast.
That’s the fun part. And also the hard part.
Also Read: Cruising the startup ocean: Building without a playbook
Do I miss the corporate version of myself?
Yes, I do.
Corporate work feels easier now — familiar systems, predictable rhythms, fewer daily surprises. Well, except for the politics.
Have I burned out in my startup journey? Absolutely.
But burnout here feels different. It’s not just exhaustion — it’s a process of rebuilding and reshaping your internal shield for something tougher. In startups, there is no floating. Every day brings new problems that can save or break the business.
In corporate roles, challenges often drive incremental growth. In startups, challenges are about survival.
Who am I becoming?
What I’ve realised is this: the startup world sharpens you. It keeps you on your toes. You have less time to sit with sensitivity, because everyone, including yourself, is focused on moving forward or finding a way forward.
Empathy still matters. But so does the ability to set things aside quickly, change gears, and keep going.
So who am I now, deep in the startup ocean?
Maybe I’m still learning how to swim. But with less panic. More calm. And a better relationship with the panic itself.
Panic is part of the daily routine anyway. The goal is no longer to avoid it — but to learn how not to drown.
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