The Last Few Things I Learned at the Startup Formerly Known as KFG Now Known as KF Working on the Product Formerly Known as PubPub Now PubPub Platform

This month, or maybe it was September—possibly even August, honestly, I’m not sure—was my last day at KF. The detachment began in July, after my mother passed. I tried to take a couple of weeks off, maybe even a month, but the itch to “get back in the saddle” came fast. Or, rather, it wasn’t really an itch. More like fear they’d fire me if I took the time I truly needed to heal. So I pushed through. But my personal growth had already stalled.

To be honest, I’m still unsure what growth was supposed to look like in that role. There were no clear standards, responsibilities, or feedback loops. No recurring tasks to help me sharpen my skills. Just vibes. At first, I thought it was something I wasn’t doing right—that I needed to figure it out.

But now I know: that mindset was a trap. If I keep thinking I need to “figure it out” on my own, I’ll end up this guy in the photo—52 years old, defensive, delusional, passing myself off as something I am not to fit some image i have of myself. But it’s not my job to teach myself everything in a professional setting. It shouldn’t be. Besides, if people say you’re a good cook, you probably are. And if your output starts slipping, there’s a problem. A serious one. Looking back, I should have focused on simple, repeatable tasks—built a rhythm instead of trying to keep pace with folks five years ahead of me. Not saying you shouldn’t take on scrappy roles or ambiguous tasks—survival is survival, and sometimes you have to roll with it. But I am saying it was not on me to devine that from the ether alone.

Before my mother passed, I already felt like I didn’t fit anyway. Fast-paced startup life wasn’t for me. But I was scared to leave. Interview prep felt impossible while juggling a full-time job, a relationship, pets, family—life. Comfort is seductive, and I found plenty of it this year. In the end, it feels like a mutual decision. The severance? Nice. A bit of financial responsibility? Even better. And despite everything, I’ve learned. Grown even.

I Have Been Outside

Last year, I realized that work isn’t supposed to be a grind. If you have the job, you can probably do the job. So, I got outside. My passion for photography has skyrocketed.

Here I am—a whole baddie—showing my work at a show. So awkward. I can’t dive into queer poly talk here, but dating in Atlanta has been great. You’ll catch me at some dive bar sipping Shirley Temples, making hot takes on pop stars I just discovered (because I stay out of the mainstream). I only recently found out about IKEA, but the shelves are up, and the plants are watered. You’ll see me at plant shops hunting for the saddest-looking plant on discount.

I’m outside, gardening, making art, squeezing in therapy, and finding ways to stay present. I think I like it here. Networking in tech would be more fun if the scene wasn’t so founder-focused, but hey, money gonna money. Oh, and I discovered coffee. I used to think it was a joke—like beer or confit without the animal fat. But listen, if you’re struggling with work-life balance, go outside. Find a hobby. Save your pennies. You might need a few months off.

What Am I Worthy Of?

I’ve got a serious inferiority complex.Even after everything, I don’t feel like I’ve accomplished much. Is it a byproduct of the U.S. experience? Patriarchal programming? Capitalism’s cultural grip? Probably all of the above. After traveling, I’ve noticed that people in other countries aren’t as consumed by existential dread. America feels different. Maybe a more successful Russia? But I wouldn’t know—I haven’t been to Russia.

I love lobster rolls, though, so I get it. Money is useful. The moral dilemma of indulging lobster inland is real, but hey, we’ve got H Mart. Honestly, H Mart is more impressive than Walmart if you ask me.

What am I supposed to ask for in this moral maze? Coworkers aren’t friends. Working in America feels fundamentally at odds with any real sense of well-being. You have a few choices: appease the capitalists and stay labor, raise middle-class kids who grow up to be capitalists, or become one yourself. Raise your money and hope you break even. There’s value in taking risks—just not as much as the zealots claim.

But through it all, the craft saves me. I love programming.

Feedback, Finally

The best feedback I got came a couple of weeks after I left. I was testing the job market, and before an interview, I asked a former colleague what gaps I should address. He didn’t mention anything about my coding skills—we both know there are things I don’t know. Instead, he said I spiral down the stack, trying to understand everything at the expense of my own progress. I lose track of the bigger picture. And yeah, that tracks.

In an interview, I completely forgot that I could access objects by key and fumbled with a bad implementation from the JS Object library. I’ve spent so much time obsessing over the “right” data structure for transforming arrays of objects that I missed the simpler solution: just use forEach.

Moving On

I won’t lie—I’m salty I didn’t get that feedback sooner. My brain works like that. It would have been nice to work on that earlier. I wonder if I ever received any real attention to my development now. But they told me to “be confident,” and I’m still figuring out what that even means.

This coding journey has been a whole vibe. I wasn’t sure it would work out, but it has. Maybe it’s time to rethink my relationship with programming. I’m good—good enough. Less hacky than some. OK, maybe I’m a little hacky, possibly shit, but I’ve been getting paid for it for four years, so what’s left to prove?

In Structure and Interpretation of Computer Programs, Alan J. Perlis wrote:

To appreciate programming as an intellectual activity in its own right, you must read and write computer programs—many of them. It doesn't matter much what the programs are about or what applications they serve. What matters is how well they perform and how smoothly they fit with other programs in creating something greater. The programmer must seek both perfection of part and adequacy of the whole.

All I need is a place where I can work on my craft with some predictability. No grindset. No crushing deadlines. Just people who meet you where you are and build with you from there.