Let’s be honest: Silicon Valley has a very specific archetype for a "startup founder." Usually, it involves Patagonia vest, a lot of buzzwords about "AI" and throwing seed money at another app that probably doesn't need to exist.
A few years ago, while I was working at a notoriously demanding tech company, I decided I wanted to build a startup with my buddies.
But not a new software platform. A construction company.
Why? Call it a wild card. Call it a desperate need to build something that you could actually touch. But honestly, it came down to my core philosophy: a real founder is a leader. I have zero interest in being a "tech bro" who cosplays as an investor and refuses to get his hands dirty.
Back in my Navy days, working as a Sonar Tech, I learned a thing or two about grit. You don't just sit in the command center; you maintain the systems, you log the data, and you do the heavy lifting. I wanted to bring that exact same energy to this startup.
So, there I was. By day, I was writing code. By night and weekend, I was working side-by-side with the crew driving an F-350, hauling materials, putting up drywall, and learning the literal nuts and bolts of the trade from some incredible mentors and friends. I was essentially living in two completely different worlds.
Spoiler alert: it didn't last forever.
Eventually, the combination of a shifting market and the very real toll it was taking on my health forced us to pull the plug. Turns out, there is only so much the human body can take when you’re surviving a meat-grinder FAANG job while simultaneously trying to get a construction company off the ground.
But man, was it worth it.
It didn't make me a construction mogul, but it gave me a uniquely strange edge in the tech world. Now, I bring a completely different perspective to my tech job. I know what it means to actually build something from the dirt up literally.
Plus, if this whole software engineering thing ever goes belly up thanks to AI, at least I can stand in front of Home Depot.
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