Was really looking forward to the Mukhin episode of Chef's Table. Interesting, but seemed a little heavy on the nationalist Putin propaganda, particularly the insinuation that covered markets and local produce only became a "thing" after the 2014 Ukraine invasion & following sanctions. The story told by the episode suggests Putin’s response to the sanctions forced the country to finally appreciate its own food and ingredients, creating a flourishing locally sourced food boom. Putin appears to be a savior, in the eyes of Mukhin and the food experts interviewed for the episode.
All the history I've read, my parents' accounts of their lives there through the 1950s-1970s, and my own visit in 2011 suggest otherwise (see photos below from May/June 2011). Local food and produce have long been a part of the Russian experience and going to the local covered market almost seemed to be a national pastime.
I understand that this chef created a movement that turned the focus back inward to true Russian cuisine after the excitement of globalization, but very curious to learn what food historians really think about this.
Open to reading suggestions if you have 'em! Will post anything I find in the meantime, as well.
This piece on design from Alex Schleifer, AirBnB’s VP of Design, covers many great points on product design, design teams, and design systems. In particular, I love his advice to also grow a design team at a comparable pace with the engineering team.
From http://firstround.com/review/defining-product-design-a-dispatch-from-airbnbs-design-chief/
Too often, a designer is brought in to “fix” a product’s design problems that are so embedded in every line of code that it’s tough to make much of an impact. Building a product with intentional design, from the beginning, can prevent a lot of pain for the product, the engineering team, and, most importantly, the customers using the product. Thanks for bringing these issues to light, Alex (er, Mr. Schleifer).
One of the hardest design projects to work on is your own portfolio. No one likes doing it. It’s nowhere near as exciting as working on a new project that’s foreign to us, where every new problem is a fun challenge and the underlying insights are there, just waiting to be uncovered. So we push it off to the side and bury it under the rug.
Alas, it’s critical to keep your work up-to-date and constantly improve how you speak to your own experience and expertise, even if you’re happily working in your current job. A great opportunity could come by any time and you want to be ready to put your best face forward with the share of a link.
I try to update my portfolio periodically, but hadn’t done a major redesign in a long time. Since deciding to focus exclusively on UX and product design after coming from a background in marketing and entrepreneurship, I was motivated to be more intentional this time. I decided to follow a similar process updating my own portfolio that I do with all user experience design projects — albeit with a few tweaks:
Research: The first step was surveying the landscape and analyzing the products put out by “the competition” (translation: I ogled the beautiful and impressive portfolios of designers I admire or recently discovered, like this one, this one, this one, and this one, just to list a few). It’s also critical to learn as much as you can about the end user (in this case, potential employers or clients) and understand their pain points through the variety of methods available.
Strategy: This is the time to reflect on the research and think through the most effective opportunity to tackle. The ideal approach will solve an important problem for the end user, while also adding value to the business (you). I thought about the problems I like to work on as a UX and product design generalist and drew out the stories that would showcase the skills I had that a product design team would find valuable.
Architecture & Visual Design: Once the story is defined, it’s time to think about how to organize and prioritize the content to satisfy—or even exceed—the expectations of the user. I sketched out the architecture of the site, the purpose of each page, and put it all together.
Testing & Polishing: After the first version was done, it was time to get feedback — I asked veteran UX and product designers I knew to critique my portfolio (thanks Jimmy, Tamara, Justin, & Danilo!). They’ve hired enough people (and been hired enough themselves) to know what to look for, quickly. As a last step, I implemented their suggestions and added some final polish. (It’s also important to remember you can—and should—continue to update and tweak and test as time goes on. So don’t worry too much about making everything absolutely perfect. What is “perfect” anyway?)
And… voila! My redesigned portfolio came together: rebeccagoberstein.com. Only minor injuries were sustained in the process.
In the end, it’s important to market yourself effectively and present your talent to potential employers and clients. But the real reward? That comes from visualizing all the work you’ve done.
It’s easy to feel like we are never accomplishing enough. Your portfolio is there to remind you that you’re talented, valued, and have done some impressive work that you can and should be proud to showcase. That, alone, is enough to get through the daunting task of working on your own portfolio.
Trouble promoting your startup? Change your mindset
When we were building Terrapn (RIP), one of the most challenging pieces for me, at the beginning, was actually promoting our product. Which is strange, because I had just spent five years as a marketer at a pretty great company that taught me all there was to know about the basics of promotion.
It didn’t occur to me until many months into it that I was having trouble promoting our product because it felt too much a part of me. This was personal.
Like an artist scared to push his or her painting out to the masses, it felt like we were exposing ourselves through self-promotion to share what we were doing. And this self consciousness was holding us back from growth. (Well, it was one of the things).
So, remember:
You're not promoting yourself. You're promoting this awesome product that you just happened to build.
Once you shift your mindset, you can remove the spotlight from yourself and focus on getting the word out to the right customers at the right time.
Finding the Right Job: How to swim to safety in the curious journey from former founder to startup employee
This past year, I thought the hardest career hurdle I was going to experience was shutting down my startup. Instead, I found that looking for the right job after this entrepreneurial adventure would turn out to be the toughest professional learning I’ve gone through in a long time.
Image from solsenseyoga.com
After taking a couple months to unwind and freelance, I knew I wanted to work at a small-medium sized startup. I was also open to larger companies and wasn’t picky about the market, as I was thinking of this next step as a growth opportunity. I figured finding a job would be pretty easy. And at first, it was! Before even launching into a job search, an offer more or less fell into my lap. Bingo.
I was soon reminded the easy path nearly always leads to the wrong destination. Doing your own startup is hard, but finding a job is a different kind of hard --- a process where very little is in your control and where many decisions are based on subjective first impressions. Finding the right job --- the right role with the right team that’s the right fit for both you and the company right now --- is even harder. It turns out building your own startup is no preparation for what you’re about to face in the gauntlet that is looking for your first job in tech.
It can be tempting to jump at the first shiny opportunity that comes knocking. And if you’re like how I was this past summer --- an exhausted former founder coming off a startup failure --- you’re all the more vulnerable. After all, you’ve been swimming in a rough ocean by yourself and you just want to find a damn raft.
But, with this temptation comes danger --- especially when startups have seemingly few windows into their inner workings. Trust these windows can be found, if you learn to ask the right questions and look for the right clues.
But what could go wrong?
The farther you get into your career, the fewer opportunities you have to take a wrong turn. Joining the wrong company can negatively manifest in many different ways. You could end up being treated with a lack of professionalism or even subjected to harassment. You might find you get little to no trust or respect from your colleagues or the founders. You might get little to no freedom to do what you do best. You might not get paid fairly for the work you do. You might find people who dismiss you based solely on who you are or what you look like. You might become very unhappy.
Any one of these scenarios relentlessly chips away at your self confidence. When a company doesn’t want or need your skills, doesn’t create a path for you to do your job well, and ultimately doesn’t deserve your talent, you are actively being blocked from being your best self and delivering your highest-quality work. Startups face a stormy ocean every day and the last place you want to be is on a ship with the wrong crew.
Asking the right questions
After the easy path took me down a wrong turn, I took some time to think. I was actively reminded by friends in and out of the tech community that the interview process is a two-way assessment.
I identified three things I wanted to get out of my next opportunity: Great culture, high probability of success, and, most importantly, the chance to work against a steep learning curve that would force me to stretch. The following questions helped me uncover whether I was heading toward the right job that would hopefully fulfill all three desires:
Desire 1: “Great culture”
Silicon Valley spends a lot of time bloviating about culture (as of today, a search for “startup culture” on Google returns 67 million results). I’m in my 30s and have worked at some great places with talented people who were excellent managers, so good culture to me means more than a charade of entertainment and free food. For me, a company with great culture is one led by effective leaders who respect the people they hire.
Has the interview process been straightforward and generally pleasant/reasonable?
Based on what I’ve seen, many startups ask you to do an unpaid project to see how you work. My personal take: if this project takes longer than a couple hours, you can get a sense for how well this startup respects and treats its employees. A better solution some companies follow is a trial period where you’re paid for a few hours of work and have a chance to really work with the team (though this might not work for everyone --- especially if the company forces you to do this trial period during work hours, a privilege many cannot afford). In all cases, though, you should have a general sense of how long the process lasts, from start to finish, and who you’ll meet along the way before a decision is made. And if there’s no real interview process at all (at a company with more than 20 employees), consider this a red flag.
Ideal answer: Yes.
Have the founders had past work experience that would have exposed them to opportunities that prepare them to lead a startup?
Being a good startup CEO requires being more than a great sales person --- it requires the ability to manage administrative tasks and influence other people to do great work. Founders often have to give up being the star performer to allow their team to shine.
Ideal answer: Yes.
Is the team diverse (in all senses of the word)?
Diverse teams produce better results. The end.
Ideal answer: Yes (and hopefully this applies to the founding and leadership team, as well as the rest of the staff).
Could I understand what they do and why in a few seconds?
Clear communication runs all the way to what’s visible on the company’s website.
Ideal answer: Yes.
How is the organization structured? It is structured, right...?
A wise friend and venture capitalist recently shared with me: “Too many companies spend time innovating their org structure, when they should really be focusing on their product. Usually, an ‘innovative’ structure serves no one except the founders.” So, if the answer is along the lines of “we’re totally flat” or “we don’t have real roles or titles,” I would run --- nay, sprint --- in the opposite direction. As Jo Freeman writes, “contrary to what we would like to believe, there is no such thing as a structureless group.” (See also: Lord of the Flies). Having little hierarchy can be highly beneficial and enable companies to move fast, but it has to be done well and that can prove to be difficult. It’s important for individuals to know their general role and how this role fits into the structure of the broader team. Structure follows strategy and, in a startup with no structure at all, it’s likely no real strategy exists. Too often, companies that sell themselves as “totally flat” are, at worst, in the business of being dishonest with their employees, or at best, drinking too much of their own Kool-Aid. Neither scenario ends well.
Ideal answer: We have team leads, our founders are involved in high level decisions, and the hiring manager is Suzy/John.
How is performance measured (for the company and for individuals) and what does this role need to deliver?
It’s important to understand how performance will be evaluated and whether high level goals for the company are shared within the company. Even in a small startup, where it’s understood boundaries and roles will be more fluid, it’s critical to get a sense of your specific role and expectations. If there are no clear, measurable goals, it’ll be difficult to decide what to prioritize or gauge how you’re doing (and why).
Ideal answer: We set quarterly/monthly measurable goals and our managers hold weekly/bi-weekly checkins with direct reports to discuss how things are tracking. We also have a clear sense of our long term/big picture goals for where the company is headed. Your role is going to focus on delivering X, Y, and Z.
After doing “back diligence” on the hiring manager/the founders, what did I find?
The term “back diligence” comes from a friend who learned this as a Stanford MBA. Because I can’t find an explanation of this term on the interwebs (it must be a Stanford b-school thing), you’re left with my version of a definition: “back diligence” is essentially “reputation due diligence.” What can you find from former colleagues/classmates of the people in the company you might join? Sidenote: the company is already doing this back diligence on you. Hiring managers in tech do not wait for --- or even look at --- any references you provide. They use LinkedIn, AngelList, or any other clues to use their network to dig in wherever they see fit to learn all there is to know about your lovely self and there’s no reason for you to not do the same. Just be careful to not hear what you want to hear.
Ideal answer: People say things about your potential new boss/the founders like “this person is great/amazing/trustworthy/I’d love to work with/for them (again) in the future.”
Do I have a good gut feeling about this place? Could I see myself working here?
Hiring can unfortunately be a highly subjective process. But there’s something to that proverbial gut feeling. Look around the office when you’re interviewing and get a sense for the energy in the room. Does it feel like a place where you’d fit in?
Ideal answer: Yes.
Desire 2: High probability of (mine and the company’s) success
Though I’m quite comfortable with risk, I want to take calculated risks. I’d like to work somewhere that has a strong chance of surviving the unavoidable turbulence of a startup. So, I put on my investor hat:
Does the company have product/market fit?
If you’re not sure what this is, read Revenge of the Fat Guy by Ben Horowitz.
Ideal answer: Yes: 1a) customers are actually paying for the solution; 1b) you’re joining Stripe/Slack/Snapchat/other S-named rocket ship; 2) there aren’t many (or any) direct competitors; 3) the product/company has a leg up on adjacent competitors for defensible reasons that will buy this startup plenty of time to win; 4) there is enough money in this corner of the market to become highly valuable/profitable in a few years and potentially return bags of money for the company’s investors (and hopefully you!).
Have reputable investors already put their dollars into the company?
Bonus: do they have deeper pockets and typically invest in later rounds (creating a faster path to money for the next raise)?
Ideal answer: Yes.
Do the investors who led the last round feature this company on their website, or at least list them in their full portfolio?
The only exception where it’s completely understandable for the answer to be “no” is if 1) the investment happened yesterday; 2) the investment was unannounced because the startup is either very early/in stealth mode; 3) the investment was outside the firm’s typical stage. Otherwise, the pride the investors show in having a stake in the company will likely match yours in having this company on your resume.
Ideal answer: Yes.
Are customers talking about the company on Twitter and saying mostly (very) good things?
Ideal answer: Yes.
Do they have positive indicators on Mattermark?
Though geared toward VCs (...for now...), Mattermark is the best tool currently available to view aggregated, real results against a set of important KPIs on private companies. I’m never joining a startup again without having looked at their performance in Mattermark. If you have found any other ways of tracking quantitative performance on private companies, please add your thoughts in the comments!
Ideal answer: Things are generally going up and to the right!
Are these positive indicators affirmed with you by the company, openly?
Sure, some numbers are going to be difficult to share with prospective hires, but, as Startup L. Jackson writes, startups rely on trust and should be transparent with you, where appropriate. If they can’t trust you with even basic cash flow or customer growth metrics at the latest stages of the interview process, you probably shouldn’t trust them either. In the same vein, asking for clarity about the equity compensation they’re offering can reveal plenty. Julia Evans from Stripe wrote an informative post about understanding your options.
Ideal answer: Why don’t you come around to my screen and take a look at our numbers.
Desire 3: Steep learning curve / potential for personal growth
The questions and ideal answers here will greatly depend on your functional area and the stage of your career. Generally:
Will I be working with a team of people who impress me and will force me to be harder/better/faster/stronger?
Ideal answer: Yes.
Analyzing the answers
That’s a lot of questions. How do you make sense of the data you’re gathering? Something like this helped me process my options (roles, company names, and ratings are completely made up):
Though it should be taken with a grain of salt, adding something like a 0-5 rating (0 is bad, 5 is great) for each of the aspects you want from your next job could help you quantitatively compare different companies on something that might at first seem subjective.
The right job for right now
As you navigate the murky waters of startup interviews, I hope you consider asking the right questions of a company before you decide to give them your time and energy. They’re certainly not fool proof, as you can unfortunately never know what it’s going to be like to work somewhere until you’re already working there. Know that all you’re really looking for is the right job for right now — and hopefully, “right now” will last a long time.
Good luck on your journey and may you have an easy landing (but not dangerously easy…) into the right job for you. 🙌
Resources
I found many of these resources useful on my search:
How to choose your first startup from Dustin Moskovitz of Asana
Cracking the PM Interview by Gayle Laakmann McDowell - helpful even for non-PM interview preparation
Mattermark to look up company performance and growth potential - and follow Danielle Morrill for gifs of cats and graphs of stats
Revenge of the Fat Guy by Ben Horowitz
The Tyranny of Structurelessness by Jo Freeman
What We Got Wrong about Self-Management by Leo Widrich of Buffer
How Google Sets OKRs from Google Ventures’ Rick Klau
How to Get Rich in Tech, Guaranteed by Startup L. Jackson
I was lucky to have the opportunity to study abroad in college. I could only afford to go for a summer and chose the theater program, only because that meant going to Italy. The program came at an important time in my life: I had just decided to not study medicine, in the last few months of my junior year at UC San Diego, where I had spent three years studying neurobiology. Instead? English literature. Creative writing, to be exact. My parents have only recently recovered.
I spent the summer making great friends, learning Italian, and acting in front of groups of people (it’s as terrifying as it sounds). I would roam the streets of Verona with my camera and take photographs of curious scenes along the narrow walkways and greet friendly passersby, fooling them into thinking I was a Spaniard with my California-Russian-accented buongiorno’s.
An older couple looks at the forbidden in Verona
At the tail end of the summer, I decided to visit my friend for a week in Spain, before leaving my temporary home in Europe for good and heading back to reality. (In Spain, funnily enough, the locals thought I was Italian --- by then, I’d picked up the lilting song of the language that was impossible to shake from my Spanish).
What I didn’t know was that this friend had become quite the partier and took me on a bender for the last two days of my time with her. After missing our train back to Bilbao from an intended day trip to Santander, we were up at 6am to return to her apartment on the first train out. My three-legged flight home was leaving in exactly twenty-four hours and I wouldn’t make contact with another pillow on land until I was back in California.
As I think back on my study abroad experience, my journey home sticks out in my mind almost more than the entire summer. Here is my memory of those long thirty-six hours.
We are up late in her cluttered apartment that night, smoking cigarettes and drinking kalimotxo. Someone picks up a guitar and starts to play. The coffee table is sticky and I try not to touch it.
The clock finally brings us past three in the morning and I send her and a friend off to a fiesta: an enormous party in a field that would put Burning Man to shame (just another weeknight in the Basque country). It had taken me all of my arguing skills to convince her it was a bad idea for me to come along with them to this fiesta, when I had a flight leaving in a few hours.
As I see them disappear, I climb into my own taxi, driven by an older gentlemen. I ask him to take me to the airport. He raises an eyebrow, but doesn’t tell me why. Off we go.
Taxi driver and I pull up to the airport. It’s completely dark. I ask if it’s closed (can airports close...?) and he assures me it’s going to open momentarily and that people are inside. (Are you sure...?). I pay him, gather my belongings, and sidle up to a completely dark building. I’m cold --- I’m wearing a hippie-girl skirt and tank top (I learned it gets hot in the airports in summer). The thought of taking myself even farther away from Italy makes me want to cry. I put on my headphones and play a CD that reminds me of my summer and I allow the tears to gather.
Two Swedish looking men show up, bound for what could only be a trip to scale Everest. I look at them and their all-weather outdoor gear with absolute joy. Other humans have come to hang out with me in the darkness! And maybe even loan me a blanket! They size me up, pull out a pair of beautiful down sleeping bags, and cautiously move to the opposite end of the airport entrance. Fueled by angst, rejection by these new would-be friends, and too many glasses of kalimotxo, I begin to quietly cry again.
The airport finally opens. It was a strange sight to see --- this quiet beast turning into a bustling hub. Thrilled to find warmth inside the building, I walk in with the crowds catching the first flights out. But we all become immediately disappointed --- nearly all the flights out are delayed or canceled.
Long lines of angry businessmen trying to get to Madrid for important meetings quickly form. I stick out like a sore thumb: dirty, sleep deprived, and dressed like a starved mess of an artist. I’m tired and cranky too, but these Spaniards in beautiful suits are putting on a real show. There is only one young woman behind glass working the tickets and they shout to her that they are not happy about it.
I finally arrive at the counter. The girl looks at me with absolute exhaustion that almost matches mine. I reach into my slow-moving brain for the one Basque phrase I learned: “Eskerrik asko!” (Thank you). She looks at me as she hears the only Euskadi anyone likely took the time to speak this morning and her face breaks into a large grin. I smile back. She quickly takes care of my tickets and winks at me when she hands them over.
I board my plane to Madrid with the men in suits. Thrilled to find my way to a seat, I collapse and essentially pass out against the window in a sprawl. The plane must know I’m American by now.
Someone is shaking my shoulders. I wake up and see concerned and disgusted flight attendants peering at me, urging me to get off the plane. At first I’m concerned and wonder, what happened? I look around and see I’m the only passenger still on board. Please get off the plane, you drunken idiot, they seem to be telling me. I have no energy to tell them I’m no longer drunk, just very, very tired. Off I go.
In the airport, I buy some candy and take care of whatever foreign tax paperwork I needed for having purchased some gold earrings for my mother in Florence. I take my seat on my next flight from Madrid to Heathrow, still in my dirty skirt and tank top. I’m on the aisle and I listen to my Discman, slowly eating my candy, piece by piece. The old couple next to me taps my shoulder to suggest I share the candy with greedy passing children eyeing my snacks. I pretend I can’t hear them.
Settling into my seat, I feel relaxed, despite the British pilot’s sing-song announcement that a tram has bashed into the side of the plane --- but not to worry, because they patched it with duct tape.
The first thing I see at Heathrow is Starbuck’s. A twinge in my belly makes me feel simultaneously annoyed, homesick, and a little less sad about leaving Europe.
I arrive to the counter at British Airways, where I’m greeted by an older man and woman. They are overjoyed to see me and talk to me --- they must have been my English grandparents from another life. They ask what I had been doing in Europe, what I enjoyed, and what I studied. I reveal that, well, I was going to be a doctor... “And now?” Now, I’m not so sure... but I know I’m going to study English literature and creative writing. To my surprise, they both look extremely pleased.
“You know, the sciences are what keep us alive, but the arts are what we live for,” the old man says to me with a hint of a smile and a look of encouragement. I begin to beam.
“That’s quite good, Harry!” says the woman to her colleague. She truly looks pleasantly surprised. He blushes and thanks her. I start to imagine these two falling in love and moving into a cottage somewhere along the English shore. They have sheep and their grandchildren get along.
“You know, you’ve got quite a good seat here,” he continues. I look confused. “You’re in business class!”
Bewildered, I remember the Basque girl in Bilbao.
“The lounge is right this way. Enjoy yourself.”
I wander into the lounge and again see a room full of suits, but this time the men are older and more plump. My dirty hippie girl skirt and tank top again look bizarre in this setting. But I am hungry, thirsty, and feeling a little more confident. Eyeing a beautiful, fancy fridge, I decide on a cold can of Carlsberg, grab fistfuls of food, and settle into a gigantic leather arm chair. The men in suits stare at me with disdain and I stare right back, as I crack open the can and look at my tickets. British Airways: Business Class --- LHR to LAX.
I hear a woman’s voice over the loudspeaker: my flight is boarding.
I gather my belongings and head to the gate. California is waiting and my brother will be there to pick me up. I can’t wait to tell him what Harry said.
Sometimes, I read a blog post that really hits home - like this Medium post by Jason Fried, CEO of Basecamp.
Here are a few of the lines that resonated with me the most:
“I wasn’t thinking hard enough about the problem. The faster you react, the less you think.”
“I came into the discussion looking to prove something, not learn something.”
“There’s also a difference between asking questions and pushing back. Pushing back means you already think you know. Asking questions means you want to know. Ask more questions.”
I’ve been on both the dismiss-ee and dismissed end of pushback. As I’ve gotten older and spent more time in the working world, I’ve experienced more of the former and have gotten good at exercising my listening and patience muscles. But, as Fried suggests, we can all get even better - it’s a lifelong pursuit.
Took a few days to finally take a camping trip up to Mt. Lassen, where I used to spend a few weeks each summer as a kid. If there were WiFi in the Cascades, I might have never left to return to San Francisco.
Passion projects & doing things because you enjoy them
A few weeks ago, I mentioned to a mentor of mine, Charles Hudson, that I was thinking about working on a podcast that revealed the stories behind the restaurants who bring us the food we love. I originally came up with the idea as a marketing tactic for the startup I was working on with my cofounder, which we decided to shut down. But, something about this podcast made me want to continue with it (a big reason was some incredible restaurants had already agreed to participate and didn’t care that it was no longer going to be related to Terrapn - I couldn’t give up the opportunity to speak with them).
I found myself justifying the decision to Charles. I started pitching to him why this “made sense” for me to do. That it would maybe even turn into the beginnings of another business. That it had value. The money kind.
He stopped me and said, “Rebecca, it’s okay for you to do some things simply because you enjoy them. Not everything you do has to be a business.”
I should mention that Charles is a brilliant venture capitalist with an MBA from Stanford. He isn’t someone who exactly hates money or the idea of making a lot of it. Still, even he was there to remind me that life and our careers are not just about justifying everything we do in terms of monetary value.
How did I get here? How did I, someone who studied creative fiction writing in college and (for crying out loud!) went to public health school, get so sucked into the money-hungry pits of San Francisco’s tech culture that I felt like I had to justify every move I made by its ROI? How did I get to a place where a (very wise and not exactly stereotypical) VC was telling me to take it down a notch?
Recently, Ryan Hoover posted something along the same vein, which really struck me:
So, I’m building and creating Menu Stories, a collection of multi media stories about the people and restaurants behind the food we love. As a side project. Not as a business. For myself. Because I like it. No, I love it. I get to write, I get to take photographs, I get to code, I get to design, and I get to do something else I really love: talk to people and listen to their stories. Some of them have even made me cry. All of them have made me laugh.
In studying fiction writing in college, I found I was more fascinated with the real stories that happen - and have happened - all around us, in our real world. There are too many stories that are truly stranger than fiction. Stories that need to be heard.
Certainly, there could be a more dramatic focal point I could have chosen than the stories of restaurants in my own community, but I fell in love with this community through working on Terrapn and it makes me happy to learn more about it and get to know the people that comprise it. It makes me even happier to think I’m facilitating the telling of their stories to people who want to hear them.
Something I miss about my writing classes are the critiques. If you’re so kind and are into that sort of thing, I’d love to hear your critique of the Menu Stories podcast: hello at menustories dot com (and I’m also happy to take restaurant interview suggestions). I’m trying to keep a weekly release schedule, so look for fresh content at that rate, if I can keep it up.
See you on Menu Stories, where I am reveling in the the fun of it all.
We shared earlier this week that, after careful consideration and weighing the various options, we have decided to shut down Terrapn.
We spent three years thinking about how to simplify the way people communicate about places that matter to them, so you’d think this transition would be a traumatic experience and that it would have been a difficult decision.
While the path has been difficult - especially accepting the realities of our growth numbers and the market that may either not exist at this time and place, or might be so tough to wrangle that the reward no longer warrants the risk - realizing it was time to shut down was one of the clearest decisions I’ve ever made. And my cofounder was on the same page with me.
There are a lot of reasons “why.” We weren’t growing quickly enough, our team was losing steam, and we were realizing the market was probably smaller than we anticipated. No single factor is to blame, as is often the case with startups, but the mixture created a scenario where it no longer made sense to continue.
Just as things were rapidly starting to vacillate internally, we started (finally!) getting commitments for our angel round. This should have been good news and should have given us the energy to pursue the rest of our round, but it only made us realize we were operating on life support. Money was the last thing that was going to “fix” anything. Nothing makes you face reality like the responsibility of making other people’s money turn into more money.
My cofounder and I are extremely lucky. We came to this realization before we took on the responsibility of investors, before we (slowly, if ever) grew to millions of users and customers, and before we hired a large team. We learned more than we could have ever hoped for. We also had immense epiphanies of our own, regarding our future career goals and our life priorities.
Personally, this process helped me develop as a leader more than any other career experience I’ve had, especially over the past year. Those lessons learned will stay with me forever and will help me be that much smarter in my next adventure. I’m realizing that building a new product, or creating anything at all, is akin to Tibetan sand mandala. It’s about embracing the inevitability of change and recognizing that the magic you experience comes from the process of creating something — not from the end result.
The beautiful thing about a sunk cost is there is zero point dwelling on what could have been done differently (though I’m sure I’ll never be able to truly keep that out of my head, completely). The important thing to remember is the time spent making and shipping Terrapn wasn’t a waste.
The absolute best thing about having swung for the fences, only to strike out, has been getting exposure to so many amazing people that I’d have otherwise never gotten to meet. I’ve met dozens of brilliant people, from all over the world, who have given me the opportunity to learn from them, speak with them, get to know them, and be their mentee. They became advisors, customers, friends, and cheerleaders. I’ve found that’s the most wonderful thing about the startup community (and the food and geo communities): so many smart people are so willing to help each other and root for each other and it’s something I didn’t see happening until I had to turn around to lean on them for support.
With that, I am happy to discuss what I learned over the past few years with anyone thinking about or working on cracking the vast areas of the local discovery space that remain untouched. There is immense opportunity and I’m excited to see what the future holds for this space.
As one of my advisors put it, “you picked a fucking hard space and you’re in good company [of founders who’ve tried to tackle local and didn’t succeed] and they’ve since gone on to do great things.”
“Great things” seems like a lofty goal and like a lot of work right now, as I’m still thinking through what’s next. I can only hope I learn as much in the subsequent things I do, as I did through this process, while avoiding the mistakes I now know to recognize.
I’m excited to see what the future holds. See you there.
Finally made it to the well-reviewed-by-the-Chronicle Huxley and enjoyed Mt. Lassen trout. Extra special, given I've caught Mt. Lassen trout. Interesting to notice newer urban-chic businesses popping up in the Tenderloin. Right next to Huxley is a posh wine bar and, across the street, is what appears to be an upscale whiskey bar. Stark contrast to the ambience surrounding Glide Church a couple blocks away.
After weeks of scheduling and juggling calendars, all your friends have nailed down a date to get dinner together - finally! All you want to do is see your favorite people, catch up, and have an awesome evening, something that’s increasingly difficult to do with everyone’s busy schedules.
But the work hasn’t ended.
Tom is gluten intolerant. You’re lactose intolerant. The rest of the group is equal parts vegan, meat-loving, seafood-loving, and vegetarian.
WHAT ARE YOU GONNA DO?
Finding restaurants that offer healthy menu items supporting various dietary restrictions and preferences can feel like nothing short of cruel and unusual punishment. Especially if you don’t want to sacrifice flavor or ambience.
The good news is these places do exist and we’re seeing food lovers of all walks of the dietary restrictions, preferences, and healthy lifestyle spectrum create amazing Terrapn collections (plug!) to help the rest of us more easily discover them. There’s:
Linda’s collection of gluten-free and vegan restaurants in the Point Loma neighborhood of San Diego
Veronica’s almond milk chai collection for those who might be lactose intolerant
Nikki’s collection of the best vegetarian food in all of San Francisco.
And, the latest healthy eating collection comes from this awesome new startup I recently met, Ketanga Fitness, which takes you on fitness retreats to exotic locations like Costa Rica, where you literally rejuvenate your body and mind. But, when you return home (and many of Ketanga’s clients call New York City “home”), you can turn to the Ketanga-approved collection of healthy food spots on Terrapn to keep your refreshed self eating healthy in the city. Woohoo!
Maybe now we can rest easy knowing the hard work is over once the scheduling is figured out for that friend reunion. Vegans, meat lovers, and the gluten free... we can be friends again.
I spent my entire childhood being an athlete. I did gymnastics for a few years (like a good Russian American), swam from age 8 to 18, and played volleyball from age 12 through the end of college (not for college, I wasn't *that* good - or tall). I also played ultimate frisbee (that was for the school!) and even tried long distance running in my mid 20s (no thanks - sprinting is much more my jam).
Today, at 31, I find it hard to remember the last time I went to the gym more than once or twice a week.
With my volleyball buds at a tournament in Stockton in the 90s.
After tweeting about some of the questions on my mind about why it's been so hard to find motivation these past few years, I'm realizing for myself that I really, truly need to change and revive my inner athlete, before she's so far away from me that she no longer embodies the majority of how I spent my life. First, it might help me to understand why I lost her, in the first place.
I shared I used to play sports. What I skipped was, my senior year of college, I tore nearly everything in my left knee after landing wrong during warmups for a volleyball game.
The injury was life altering for me. At first, it was altering in an incredibly detrimental way. My not-exactly-professional but extremely-important-to-me athletic career was over. My identity was gone. The joy from competition with dear friends in a game I loved so much was something I would never again experience - at least not in the same way and with the same energy you get from being on a school or university campus.
I was dumbfounded and lost. I spent the year dealing with mild depression, drinking way too much (which went hand in hand), eating as much as I'd eat when I was still active, and gaining weight from a combination of the drinking and the eating and the not being able to move much.
Then, things got better. Much better. I learned that I tore my ACL (and other important structural components of my knee) largely because I hadn't been properly strength training. I'd always go through the motions my coaches would make me do, but wouldn't actually try. I think I actually thought they were trying to torture me - not make me stronger. This kind of knee injury is incredibly common for young female athletes because many aren't put through proper leg muscle strength training techniques - and those who are and have great coaches too often don't take their strength training seriously (as was my case).
I always thought I was in shape because of the sports that I played. What I didn't realize was it's critical to be in shape for the sports you play.
Being strong won't eradicate your chance of injury, but will greatly reduce the risks. I had a mental shift about training that my immaturity, impatience, "in one ear and out the other" listening to my coaches never let me see before.
Being out for 8 months due to my injury got me thirsty for exercise, especially since I was highly active at this time in my life. As a treat to myself, I saved up from my internship (which was, ironically, at an orthopedics lab at the time) and paid for a personal trainer, once I got clearance from my surgeon. My trainer, Frank, helped me more than I could have ever expected. I learned how to use nearly all the gym equipment with confidence, I got my strength back, and I learned how to treat the gym as sport, focused on beating my own personal bests. This energy and approach to fitness and strength training stayed with me for years and I ended up in some of the best shape of my life.
Until, that is, I got a corporate job after grad school.
Working (also ironically, at a health care company) quickly sent me on a spiral into a sedentary lifestyle. It stung when I had to fill out health questionnaires and, for the first time, I had to describe my lifestyle as such.
I thought I'd adjust to a new schedule, but 7 years have passed and I'm still mostly sedentary (despite having some spurts of fitness in between, where I ran that half marathon and went to the gym most mornings - but it never lasted). I've had some more knee surgeries during this time, but being out for 6-8 months wasn't as devastating - or as effective at making me thirsty to get back into being physically active - because laying down on the couch wasn't all that different from sitting at a desk all day.
I'm ready to change and find my inner athlete again. Here's how I'm going to go about it:
Finding my intrinsic motivator
I'm now an entrepreneur, so I ostensibly have a little more control over my schedule. The biggest battle I'm finding is with myself and allowing myself to prioritize my own health and fitness. My cofounder knows how important exercise is to me and strongly encourages me to make time for it. But, while her support is awesome, that's not enough. The desire and focus needs to come from me.
The third ironic thing I will point out in this post is I have a degree in public health focused in health behavior change, yet I still have a difficult time applying these learnings to myself. But, I'm going to try and ask myself some hard questions about why there's a disparity between my strong desire to be active and lack of prioritizing it to make it happen. To start:
Do I really think that spending 1-2 hours to exercise 4-5 times a week will make me lose my edge as an entrepreneur, when I know for a fact that it will have the opposite effect?
Do I really want to bring people on to our team where I'm one of those horrible upper management types, who says fitness and health are important, but gets fat eating crap at a desk all day long?
Do I really want to let my leg muscles get weak again, putting me at risk for another ACL tear?
Do I want to rob myself of one of the greatest de-stressors in the world and "get everything out" at the gym while listening to Katy Perry (don't judge), the Beastie Boys, Pharrell, and all other pop and hip hop I love and don't listen to enough?
Getting into a routine, treating strength training as sports practice
I would have never missed volleyball practice (or even swim practice, which I enjoyed less). Part of it was FOMO and wanting to be with my friends. Most of it was knowing I'd be set back if I missed a practice and have to work twice as hard next time. I need to remind myself that staying strong by going to the gym helps me each time I return to the gym to get better and better. Which leads me to...
Setting competitive goals - against myself
I'm a competitive person, in the sense that I'm highly goal oriented. It's hard for me to focus on weight as a goal because of the whole muscle vs fat heaviness thing, but I know I do well when I focus on personal bests. I need to remind myself what Frank would push me to do and set goals for myself to beat at the gym each week.
Making time for rural - and urban - hiking on the weekends
One of the biggest excuses I give myself for not going to the gym, especially in the evenings, is not getting to spend time with my husband. He's not a gym person, so going together isn't an option. He is, however, a big hiking person, as am I - I grew up hiking in the Sierra Nevadas and we are lucky to be spending adulthood now in Northern California.
We used to hike together frequently, but my weekends have been filled with work, making it easy for this activity slip away. If I'm honest with myself, It seems like I've let work be a justifiable reason to not spend time with him, but not exercise. He works long hours, too, so work and our careers will continue to be important to both of us, but we really need to bring the hiking back. Plus, doing hard hikes used to be a great litmus test for us to see what shape we were in, so I think I can kill two birds with one stone on this one and use this as a personal best goal, in addition to getting outside and having a fun day with my favorite person on earth.
Saying it out loud
Many of us know that saying things out loud makes you more likely to stick to your goals. So, here's my saying it all out loud to hold me to it.
Wish me luck and I'll be seeing you at the gym - or maybe even on the trails!
It's always easier to draw something inside of a box, versus coming up with something on a completely blank canvas. For me, that box is usually looking at great examples of work by other designers who've done something right.
Here are five apps and products that inspire me to be a better designer:
1. Tumblr
What gets me going: the subtle animations with every interaction.
I use it: daily.
(this one is very meta, as my blog is on tumblr, and I was just now delighted by one of the newest publisher features - also with fun animation - in their web product).
2. Ness (no longer active)
What (used to) get me going: that loading gif heart. It was beautiful.
I (used to) use it: weekly.
3. Google Inbox
What gets me going: the UX design. It took some getting used to, but became quite intuitive, once I learned to trust it. Gmail now looks and feels like stale garbage, by comparison. I cannot get over how much I love the way Inbox floats all attachments to the top in a horizontal scroll, for easy access.
I use it: every 3 minutes.
4. Medium
What gets me going: the white space. Oddly enough, I like the look of their mobile site more than their iOS app, despite the reduced functionality.
I use it: a few times a week.
5. Timeful
What gets me going: the happy, beautiful colors and clean design.
I use it: not that much, but it also feels quite seamless, so I might be using it right now and have absolutely no idea.
Are there any beautifully designed products that inspire you? Would love to discover some new ones to get the design wheels turning.
