There’s a browser tab I always have open.
It’s not the product dashboard.
Not Slack.
Not even GitHub.
It’s the runway spreadsheet.
Being a Startup CTO isn’t just about architecture diagrams and scaling systems. It’s about living in the tension between possibility and survival. Every technical decision has a financial shadow. Every sprint carries a silent question: Will this help us live longer?
People think my job is writing brilliant code or choosing cutting-edge tech. The truth? I spend more time deciding what not to build.
The hardest part isn’t technology — it’s trade-offs.
Do we move fast and accept technical debt?
Do we refactor and risk slowing growth?
Do we hire senior engineers we desperately need, knowing payroll is already tight?
At a big company, failure hides behind layers. In a startup, failure has your name on it. If the system crashes, if security slips, if scaling breaks — it’s personal. You don’t just fix bugs; you absorb pressure.
There are moments no one talks about. Like staring at server metrics at midnight, wondering if today’s traffic spike is success… or a breaking point. Or sitting in leadership meetings translating investor language into engineering reality.
And then there’s the team.
Engineers look to you for clarity. Founders look to you for execution. Investors look to you for confidence. Meanwhile, you’re constantly balancing optimism with honesty. You can’t panic — even when you feel it.
But here’s the part that keeps me here:
When something works at scale for the first time — when thousands of users interact with something that once existed only on a whiteboard — it feels unreal. Not glamorous. Not cinematic. Just quietly powerful.
Being a Startup CTO isn’t about being the smartest person in the room. It’s about carrying uncertainty without letting it spread. It’s about building foundations in shifting sand.
And every morning, before stand-up, I close that runway tab.
Then I open the code.
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