Father of Man

Maybe it is a character flaw. But most of the time I don’t react in the conventional/ expected way to the ups and downs of life in the tech industry. It isn’t equanimity or “grace under fire” or indifference. In the moment - I do feel the onslaught of emotions. I find it useful to talk to friends and colleagues about the situation. But then my mind moves on to actions and solutions.

It definitely has a lot to do with spending a big chunk of my career building start ups and working at early stage companies. Survival and existential dread (hiring, lay-offs, fund raising, what product should we build, oh god - what were we thinking - no one in their right mind is ever going to use this, who would fund us, why do they want to give us so much money - they must be out of their minds, yada yada, maybe I will just count prime-numbered sheep and cry myself to sleep) become second nature.

But mostly it has to do with being a parent. I have found parenting to be by far the hardest thing I have ever done. Nothing gives me more joy while simultaneously turning me into a big blubbering pile of mush and snot. So while some big changes were happening at work in January, I was dealing with my 9-year-old’s first international school trip.

80 grade four kids and 8 teachers and organizers were heading to Phuket for a 4 day trip that involved treks, snorkeling, spending time at the beach and learning about nature conservation. [Don’t get me started on the extreme privilege angle here - an international school trip to learn about nature - yeah right!] But more importantly, this trip involved no contact with parents, no phone calls or messaging (just end of day reports sent by teachers - “your kids are alive - oh look here - a turtle!”).

The parents’ WhatsApp group (truly a cornerstone of our civilization) came alive before the trip. Clearly the parents were a lot more nervous than the kids (who were mostly overjoyed at the prospect of not brushing their teeth, or showering daily or sleeping early; and if you are thinking: my little angel would never do this - I can only give you my best evil cackle as a response). Lots of prep - packing and re-packing - and multiple trips to Decathlon ensued.

Before the trip, the kiddo sat me down and told me in no uncertain terms - “I am a little nervous, but mostly excited about this trip. Don’t get too emotional and spoil this.” I saluted this courageous pre-teen and continued to cry internally. [I love embarrassing the kiddo by loudly proclaiming in my best Gunnery Sergeant Hartman voice - Preeeee Teeen coming. Attention!]

So at 6 AM on a Tuesday morning, my wife and I landed up at Singapore’s Changi airport to drop off our spawn. Kiddo waved a hurried goodbye and was off (holding his passport and boarding card in the most nonchalant manner ever - “don’t drop your passport” I whimpered - head blown to smithereens).

The next four days were strange. They felt hollow and incomplete; the house was empty and my brain emptier. I could hear my thoughts and they were all tinged with sadness. I think we fool ourselves into believing that our kids need us. Sure - they do - but I think we need them a lot more. So is this what being an empty-nester feels like? Did my parents go through this when I left for college?

The days crawled forward. Kiddo got back having had a complete blast on the trip. But the way he hugged us told me that he had missed us as well. He looked older, more grown up? How was that possible?

And then we received this wonderful note from his teacher. I don’t think I have sobbed this loudly since Iron Man died in Avengers: Endgame.

This parenting thing - what a rollercoaster. Tech world - give me all your problems any day of the week.