The Art and Elegance of Being Ruthless

What working at a startup and being a mother have in common

I am a working mom with a demanding job at a startup. Like many other working parents, I neither believe that “you can have it all” nor that “work-life balance is impossible.” My reality is somewhere in between. Eight years of living at the intersection of mom and boss has given me the perspective that when you value self, career, and family equally, you have to be comfortable with a fluid concept of balance and emphasis. That there will be good weeks — times when I feel like I am killing it — and other weeks when the most I can do is put on some lipstick, throw on a hat, and hope I just make it through the day.

Lately, I have found myself talking a lot about working at a startup and about being a mom. But when I am asked about how I balance the two, I land on a single principle: Prioritize ruthlessly.

Yes, we all know that there are only 24 hours in a day. But when you have to split your time between two equally important roles (and leave yourself time to sleep), then your time becomes that much more precious. After my first kid came along, I learned something surprising. Being a mom made me crazy efficient. Knowing that I had a hard stop meant that I had to make the most of my time at the office with my teams. Once I got home, made dinner, and put the kids down, I would start my “second shift.” Some of that time was spent on work, some of it on side hustles, and the rest on creative passions. Adopting this time shifted working pattern helped me recognize one important thing: I have to love what I do in all aspects of my life. The opportunity costs are simply too high.

At first, prioritizing was tough. I was wracked with guilt: guilt for being a bad mom, guilt for being a bad feminist, guilt for not being ambitious enough. Until I realized that guilt does nothing for me. It doesn’t bring me clarity. It doesn’t move me closer to my goals. It doesn’t help me be a better mom/boss/person. So I let it go.

And when I did, ruthless prioritizing came more easily. It wasn’t about what I should do today/tomorrow/next week. The frame shifted to what do I have to do today in order to be successful at work, home, and life today/tomorrow/next week.

And the secret is bucketing. Put everything that needs to get done into larger, general buckets. The goal then is to keep all of the buckets moving forward a little bit each day/week/month. Buckets at work can be based on products, teams, or deadlines. Buckets at home might be based on school or household. Your kids and partner should each probably get a bucket too

Don’t misunderstand. This is not about planning every detail. Trying to keep strict calendared schedules is time-consuming and crazy-making. Checklists don’t work for me. They get too long too quickly. I get overwhelmed and then don’t feel like I am making progress. Bucketing is a way for you to stay focused on the most important things that have to get done while remaining generous to the fluidity of work and life.

I apply this same framework at Celmatix, where I guide product development, brand, and marketing. Celmatix is a personalized medicine company focused on women’s health. More specifically, we build products that help women and their doctors manage fertility potential. It is ambitious and fulfilling work, and we are in the lucky position of having many, many more opportunities than we can possibly tackle with our current team. This means that every day, we have to make challenging decisions around our resource priorities. And because we are a lean team of 40 trying to tackle big, hairy problems, these priorities can, at times, feel like they are built on sand.

But the philosophy is the same. We have buckets for products, for deadlines, for marketing and communications, and for general infrastructural investments. During our sprint planning meetings, we essentially go around to the owners and ask: What do we need to accomplish in our next two-week sprint in order to keep us on schedule for the next 30/60/90? Each week, we ask the same question and remain open to any curveballs that might come our way. And when the number of points is twice what it should be, we start the ruthless process of cutting, trimming, and rescoping. It is a fluid process that requires a clear understanding of what needs to get done and on what timeframe.

Eight years ago, if I had been in this role, my effectiveness would have been limited by uncertainty and indecision. I credit my mom-ness for helping my boss-ness.

But just because I prioritize ruthlessly, doesn’t mean that I act ruthlessly. Because what I have also learned on both sides of my Venn diagram is that ranking and planning can be very emotional processes. Delaying features can make people feel like they are less important. Moving up features can cause stress. Killing features can be downright demoralizing. These are all hard decisions that need to be delivered carefully, not ruthlessly. Because in those instances, empathy creates the line between tyrant and leader.

But the influence goes both ways. Trying to fit being a new mom into my career helped me understand how to make the most of limited resources at work. Conversely, embracing the concept of Minimal Viable Product (MVP) at work has helped me to shed unnecessary stress at home.

Here’s a perfect example: I am in the midst of planning my son’s eighth birthday party. Late one night, I started to go down the rabbit hole of planning it. What started as a casual get together at the park soon evolved into a crazy $1000+ plan, complete with an event space, Pinterest-worthy cupcakes, and Minecraft-themed invitations. As I was drifting off to sleep, I realized: This is scope creep! Where was my ruthless prioritization? So I asked myself “What does a product builder do when designing a new feature?” Interview the end user. So over dinner, the next night:

• Me: “What do you want to do for your birthday party?”
• Dash: “Just a costume party in the park with my friends.”
• Me: “What if we were to…” and a rich description of my overly elaborate concept
• Dash: “How much would that cost?”
• Me: “About $1000.’
• Dash: “That’s crazy. Let’s just go to the park.”

Done. There was my MVP — the Minimum Viable Party. Got the info I needed and moved on. My boss-ness had helped my mom-ness. The circle was complete.