You know, the shitty thing about getting started so late in this game is that you can sometimes be unjustifiably hard on yourself.

I only began blogging/vlogging/tweeting in March this year as The Tech Nobody, and I was frequently subjected to a bit of self-bashing as I explored the towering accomplishments of all the others that got here before me.

You start wondering how you’ll ever reach their level. How could you possibly start writing blog posts about crap when a quick Google search reveals endless content published on the subject from three years ago?

Goddammit – why didn’t I start earlier?

Yes. I got angry. First there was frustration, then sadness, and then I just got angry. And I like to think that that ‘anger’ was really just an eruption of passion (not that kind) – to be a blogger/vlogger/social media master. I wanted to be a part of the cool crowd and get drunk at their houses when their parents were away on vacation.

I was angry that I’d let all these other people get a head start on me. I was annoyed at myself. And I let it annoy me. I would read other people’s blog posts with hundreds of comments, watch other people’s videos with hundreds of views and a mighty Rawr would echo from deep within me

Some might have said to me; ‘Oh, don’t be silly Hannah, all those people started online years before you, you can’t compare yourself to them.’

But instead I just kept staring at their comments and total view counts, just like when you’re a kid and one of your teeth is falling out and it feels really strange and kinda hurts when you wiggle it with your tongue, and yet you still keep looking at their freaking follower count!

Alright, so that was what the start of my blogging life looked like.

The anger has mostly subsided, as I reach a point where my progress is not entirely laughable. Not entirely, I said.

But it’s funny, just recently, I came across someone new online. Well, they’re new to me, but they’ve been doing stuff online for more than a year. And they stirred something within me again…

For some reason, I really badly want to beat them. Not physically, of course, more in a Michael Jackson wearing a keyboard t-shirt kind of way.

I want to be better than them. And I don’t think that’s entirely unhealthy, to be honest.

I’m not so psycho about it these days, it’s more of a normal competitive thing, and it’s having a big part to play in my current motivation levels. That’s got to be good right?

They’re perfect as the rabbit to my greyhound. Even though they started almost a year before me, they’re well within my reach – I could realistically catch up to them within a matter of months – with a bit of hustle on my part.

And, the best part is, if I do beat them, then, I’ll have the added satisfaction of knowing I did it faster than they could.

Is this weird of me?

Well, I’m sure I’m not the only person who’s ever looked up to someone in this creepy, jealous way – obviously, there must be some kind of admiration there, otherwise I wouldn’t want to be better than them.

I’m sure sports players have the same feeling towards their superior competitors – well, anybody of any walk of life. I know, personally, that in any race I’ve ever run, I’ve always focused on the person immediately in front of me, to keep me motivated, and I didn’t give up until I’d passed them…or, at least tripped them over or something.

I’m not worried about measuring up to the big-ass bloggers anymore. I’m more concerned about kicking the asses of the guys directly in front of me.

Just because.

Whenever I’m talking about my job to people outside the tech industry, it can go one of two ways.

They think I’m awesome, or, they stare blankly at me.

Now, the staring blankly generally comes from a lack of understanding about the inner workings of the technology industry, and the thinking I’m awesome will come from a lack of understanding about the inner workings of the technology industry.

You see, startups are great at blowing things out of proportion. Because we lack the organisation and formality of a large corporate, we can say and do whatever the f*ck we like when it comes to the company’s credentials.

And so, we get the chance to make ourselves sound a little cooler than we actually are, while people outside the scene are none the wiser.

Pimp my title

In big corporates, there’s a very clear structure in the management hierachy, and it’s usually pretty simple – the more experience you have, the more education you have, the higher in the hierachy you go.

But in startups, well, if you’re in one, you know the drill – and if you’re not – get this: your new boss will probably ask you what you want your title to be when they hire you.Yep. Take your pick.

Sure, there the crazy names you’ll see occasionally; ‘ninja’, ‘guru’, and even the odd ‘evangelist’ – but there’s the straight-up normal names that people manage to wrangle, too.

Director of this, International Head of that, VP of some other thing – we bandy about these high profile titles, but what do they really mean?

Don’t ask, don’t tell. Apparently, it doesn’t matter where your title came from, all that matters is that you have it, and you can rock it out at any and every appropriate moment. Like when you’re trying to impress your ex-girlfriend.

It’s not to say you don’t have a lot of responsibility and power in the company, it’s just that, well, you’re probably the Director because you’re the only one in your department.

CEO Status in Three Steps

And this leads me to the influx of CEOs hanging around these days. Some are legitimate CEOs – they run a real business with a few employees and customers, they have some funding or profit, you know, they’re legit.

And then there’s the guys who looked at those guys, green with sustainable envy and thought: ‘Why can’t I be a CEO too?’

So, they just went ahead and became one.

They registered a company name. Bought a domain name. Printed off 500 business cards.

‘I’m CEO, bitch.’

Yes, you are, but not really though, are you? Don’t you have to actually have a functioning business to be a CEO? Yeah. Generally.

You can get away with being a faux-CEO for a few months, but people will probably start asking questions. You can stave this off by claiming to be in ‘stealth mode’, as long as you have enough cash in savings to travel to eighteen conferences in a year, pay off doormen at exclusive tech parties and shower your parents with gifts to show them how successful you’ve finally become.

You big, successful CEO, you.

Liar, Liar, Pants on Fire

The only issue with this is that it comes to a point when people within the tech industry stop believing each other.

You hear someone talking about their position and their company, and who knows – they might actually be fo realz, but it’s a classic case of the boy who cried Co-founder. People talk about their over-inflated titles so often, they begin to lose all meaning.

You start filtering things people say to arrive at reality – ‘physical office’ in startup speak could mean the local Starbucks; ‘my executive assistant’ is probably your mom.

But, the fact is, whatever people think of us within the industry, or however little your dad actually understands about what you do – that title is going to look f*cking sweet on your CV.

WTF?

Yep, that question site that lets people bully each other, make stoopid queries, and gets old after about a week. But not for everyone it seems.

Ever seen “I’m boreeed so someone Formspring.me!!!!” on someone’s status update? Probably only if you interact with people under 16 online. (Easy tiger…)

The kids love it, obviously, as Formspring boasts a somewhat baffling number of users, to the tune of 16 mill. I stopped using it after I found the slightly more grown up Quora, but there’s a whole load of youngsters out there that are addicted to it’s over-sharing ego-driven allure.

All that aside though – $10 million (on top of the $3.5 they already had)? $10 million dollars, to build a platform for some super-engaged, active young people?

Oh. right.

Ok…wait a second. Celebrities. Celebrities answering questions. That could work. Just that. Ok, I’m done now.

Oh, don’t mind me, I’m just nursing a virtual bitch slap.

Someone left a mean comment on my blog. A *mean* comment. Can you believe it?

I’m sure people have said mean things to me before, but this is my first real personal attack. I’ve obviously hit the big time.

I’ve seen mean comments on other people’s blogs, and dreamed of the day I would get my own trolls. And today, it seems, is the day.

Suddenly, I feel like a 14 year old all over again. Kids can be so cruel. And, it seems, so can grown, anonymously-commenting adults.

I usually wouldn’t like to censor comments, but here’s why I’ve trashed this one:

I’m all for expressing how you really feel if something online truly trips you off online, but I generally like to keep things relevant to the subject at hand. Also – if I’m going to say something, I will stand up for my opinion, and make sure I make my name known.

But when you conceal your name, it suddenly gives you free license to say whatever you want – the internal censor disappears – and it’s not fair on the people you unleash on.

If you want to have a slinging match, you can’t hide behind a shield, throwing stones, while I have to stand here and take it. It’s mean, goddammit. You big goddamn meanie.

If you need me, I’ll be in the corner, sobbing, being not quite as hot as I think I am. I will also be eating ice cream, because everyone knows that the nutrients contained in mint chocoloate chip are proven to increase blogging abilities*.

So – when someone is mean to you through your blog, do you bite your tongue, or do you let rip right back?

*Fact.

It’s nothing new, really; but it  has suddenly become a more serious issue since arriving in San Francisco.

I was warned. American men are very forward, they told me. Ok. Warned.

So I walk into a club, and hold up the bar while I wait for the people I’m meeting. The guy next to me has no issue sparking up a conversation. He offers to buy me a drink within the first sixty seconds.

Forward. Gotcha.

Now, forward like this I can handle. That would be a polite no, random, kind, alcohol-enabling stranger.

But there’s this other kind of forward that’s kinda thrown me off. It’s forward, but for wussy boys.

See, I figure, it doesn’t count unless I know you’re hitting on me. If I knew you were hitting on me, I wouldn’t give you my number.

But when we’re at a business networking event, and we exchange cards? Yeah, that’s not me ‘giving you my number’.

You see the difference there?

Can you believe these guys? This is like, a worrying trend facing the female business networker. See, guys, we’re under the pretence that you’re interested in the companies we work for – I know; crazy, right?

And if you’d made it a little more clear you were going to ask me out with my card in your possession, you would not currently possess said card.

It’s just cheeky! These guys are talking tech with me, and I’m thinking ‘business’ while they’re thinking ‘business time’.

And then, here I am, in the awkward situation where I can’t be harsh, because they’re a business contact! Shame on you, misleading business card-taker! What am I supposed to do with that? How am I supposed to deal with this? I can’t stop networking goddammit!

There should be rules against this kind of behaviour. Sneaky American buggers…

It’s also worth noting, that I was very aware throughout the composition of this blog post that I could end up sounding like a self-involved woman pirate whore, but I was blinded by the rant roll I had going. Just let me have my rant.