During the lockdowns I started working for a tech startup. At first, I noticed all the perks of working in the tech world; the glamourous office with the shiny coffee machine, the fancy boxes of pastries or charcuterie that would land on our doorstep, the way decisions would be made and actioned within the same day.
Coming from teaching - where our staff room was usually a glorified cupboard, we'd have to pay for our own tea and coffee each term, and our decision making was often at glacial pace - I fell in love straight away.
A few months in however, after several pivots (*shudder*) the glitzy sheen of the tech world started to dull. I saw how ego would cloud most judgments, how whole departments of people could just be cut and dumped within a 24 hour period, how anyone not working in a specialist role would inevitably end up in sales no matter how much they protested.
A couple of years in, after the Big Boss Man decided my team is no longer relevant to the business, I was spat out and left scratching my head about the whole experience. After feeling pretty bruised from this whirlwind career, I’ve been reflecting on how it actually taught me so much about being a creative person.
Try a bunch of ideas and see what sticks
Trying to explain exactly what my company did was like trying to explain the rules of an elaborate co-operative board game. We were an app, an advice sharing platform, a youtube channel, a booking system, a marketplace.
A CTO friend of mine warned me that I shouldn't be surprised if certain aspects of our business were cut as we start to streamline and drop the "deadweight." And sure enough, the parts of the business that weren't making money were just dropped.
As a worker this felt like a crushing blow. But as a creative, it taught me to just try a load of ideas, give them a certain amount of time and attention, and then don't be afraid to drop them if they're not working. It doesn't have to be about financial value, it could be about your own enjoyment or interest. It removes the emotion from quitting things that are just no longer working.
My manager used to use the buzz words “fail fast” quite a lot - she said it was better to try something and find out quickly it’s not going to work than work on something for years and find out it’s a failure. While I do absolutely see the importance of taking your time, chipping away at a piece of work over a few months or years, I think there’s something pretty freeing about just giving something a go and moving on if it doesn’t work.
There’s a fair amount of blagging involved
Before I joined the company, the branding and slickness of the app led me to believe it was some huge business with hundreds of departments. It turns out I was employee number 30 and we just had an amazing branding and tech team. Our marketing and PR team were incredible at making us look like leaders in the field, but in reality, the field was more like a back garden.
This may be a bad lesson but it taught me to embrace the feeling of being a blagger or an imposter. Calling myself a writer when I’ve not written a single paid publication feels naughty at times. Or when I tell people I’m an artist when I still haven’t quite figured out what my “art” actually is yet, I feel like they’re going to catch me out. But no one ever does - because people respect you for owning the word.
The Minimum-Viable Product
Perhaps the most important lesson learned was that of the MVP, or what an artist might call their first draft. Before this job I was far too impatient to try first drafts and redrafts and editing again and again. It's why thus far I've never written a book.
But on finding out how products are built in the tech world, it gave me a new perspective. They don’t build the entire product, with all its shiny bells and whistles in private before releasing it to the world. They build the product with the minimum ability a customer would buy or use it. Then on testing it out, and getting feedback from clients they iterate and build on the product. The product gets better and better over time and may one day become completely unrecognisable from what it first looked like.
It taught me that hiding my work away in secret, sometimes never even letting it leave my head, was doing my art a complete disservice. By slowly sharing tidbits here and there, of poems, of music, of vlogs and articles, I've been getting feedback - either directly or indirectly - and my work has got better and better.
The tech world taught me to be bold and put my work out there. Be ready for the criticism - or in my case, the lack of any engagement - and listen to the feedback from trusted advisors, whether that's clients or editors or audience. But most importantly, just have a go!
I love your takeaways from this experience!