Startups are often described as dream factories—places where your time, energy, and belief help build something greater than yourself. That idea pulled me in. I believed in the mission. I believed in the team. And for six years, I gave it everything I had. What I didn’t realize then was how many hard but necessary startup lessons I would take away from the experience.
I wore every hat: designer, developer, project manager, QA. I took a pay cut. I mentored juniors. I stayed hopeful through pivots, delays, and letdowns. It wasn’t just a job—it felt like a calling. And from that experience came some of the most difficult and eye-opening startup lessons I’ve ever had to learn.
When Dedication Isn’t Enough
Eventually, cracks began to show—both in the company and in myself. On 2017, I received a formal memo citing performance issues, negativity, and resistance. I wasn’t shocked. I had been struggling.
But I also felt unseen.
The memo didn’t mention the unsustainable workload. I was juggling multiple roles without backup. QAing my own work meant errors were inevitable. We had no version control, no ticketing system, and no structured testing.
It also didn’t mention that questioning direction isn’t rebellion—it’s critical thinking. Or that burnout doesn’t always explode—it quietly isolates you.
Despite it all, I tried to stay afloat. I prioritized what I could. Projects like Camella and Tagaytay Highlands meant something to me. I cared about the outcome. But effort doesn’t always translate into acknowledgment.
Startup Lessons I Took With Me
For years, I held on to that memo—literally. I kept it until 2023, unsure why I couldn’t let it go. Eventually, I understood: I was grieving the gap between what I gave and what I received.
One of the most important startup lessons I took with me was this:
You can pour yourself into a company, but at the end of the day, you’re still an employee. If you’re not seen or supported, your sacrifice becomes a loss—not an investment.
Some of the blame placed on me felt misaligned. Many of the issues were structural or team-wide, but I sometimes felt singled out. In hindsight, I wonder if the memo existed less as feedback, and more as a formal record leading toward my exit. Whether or not that was the intent, that’s how it felt.
Still, I don’t regret the experience. It shaped the leader I didn’t know I wanted to be.
A Shift in Perspective
I eventually found myself in a new role—one where I felt seen again.
That shift reminded me how valuable my skills were, even if they weren’t acknowledged before. More importantly, I saw what healthy leadership looked like. I stopped justifying old environments. I started embracing new ones.
It also helped me reflect on the kind of leader I wanted to become. I no longer wanted to protect a company at the expense of its people. I wanted to support the people who made the work happen.
That realization changed how I approached future teams, especially when mentoring junior developers. It became less about proving myself, and more about creating space for others to thrive.
I don’t carry bitterness. Just clarity. It was an experience I needed—and I’m better for it.
Disclaimer: This story reflects my personal experiences and perspective during that chapter of my career. Others may have had different experiences, and I share this not to place blame, but to reflect on my own journey, growth, and the startup lessons learned along the way.
About Me
I’m JP B. Bantigue—a multidisciplinary digital professional with a background in UI/UX design, front-end development, and project strategy. I’ve spent over a decade navigating life in startups and agencies, wearing many hats along the way. Through it all, I’ve learned that growth doesn’t only come from wins. It often comes from burnout, difficult decisions, and learning how to let go.
I write to reflect, make sense of where I’ve been, and maybe help others feel less alone in where they are.
