The iPhone chimes. I don’t need to check the sms to know it’s from Blake. This instinct has developed after five weeks, and it’s the price you pay for choosing to work different hours than your boss. I grab the brick from across my bedside table and do la one-handed disconnect. Says it’s 11am. Says we need to prep for 1pm call. THE call. Prep is at noon over lunch. Which means another 55 minutes of sleep for me. I close my eyes.
Things are coming along. Slowly of course, but surely. Five failed web apps with nearly as many teams of developers have taught me that getting a product to alpha with remote, part-time devs is slow. I’ve never had a full-time anybody, but I do know that things hum when everyone’s in the same room. Experiencing a full workweek at hum-speed has always been a dream of mine, but I remain unsatisfied. Some day perhaps. Some day when my startup pays the bills. Mom and Dad will get off my back, I will be vindicated and the words “my startup” will feel a bit more like they did when I first spoke them two and a half years ago. With less stretch and more truth. Or more bravado, rather. Before the cuts and bruises. Before I learned how to take a punch. Before I learned what a punch felt like.
But this isn’t about me. I mean this isn’t about Momo, begat by me. It’s about Challenge, begat by Dynamo Labs, begat by Blake, my lord and Facebook-funded savior. Challenge is like my step-child; it’s not technically mine, but I’m helping Blake raise it. Kind of like the stay-at-home mom who spends all day with the baby while dad goes out and brings home the bacon. Actually, that’s too generous. I’m more like the live-in housekeeper who works for the single dad and has developed an emotional attachment to the kid ’cause she’s just so darned cute! And I take her bad behavior personally (insert scolding finger here). And I’m doing her user experience. Please keep your mind out of the gutter.
To be continued...
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