A few weeks ago, I completed my first year working at a startup. It’s ironic to think that just 12 months ago, I had no idea what a startup was, didn’t really understand what entrepreneurship meant, and—most importantly—had no clue what “culture” meant in the workplace.
On my first day, I walked into a co-working space and was surprised to be greeted by a friend from college—someone I’d recently shared a couple of beers with over the weekend. When I entered the office, I found it curious that there were only five people there—and then me, the intern. They gave me my first assignment and placed me at a desk I shared with the most eloquent person in the company. His first words to me were:
"You're going to learn a lot here—maybe not from me, but definitely from them."
He pointed behind him, where there was only one other person (who would later become a great friend) and an empty chair. The next day, I met the person who occupied that chair. We weren’t six anymore—we were seven.
I had been hired for a purely technical role, so I spent most of my time with headphones on, staring at my screen, writing my first lines of code. Curiously, right next to me—on the same desk—all the company’s sales operations were happening. Have you ever heard someone sell before? I hadn’t. But I did now. Loud and clear. Sometimes I could hear her from the elevator.
Involuntarily, we shared and confused agendas, pens, and even once—a coffee cup (something that would be scandalous today). I probably couldn’t do better, but after listening to the pitch enough times, I felt like I could give it a shot. So ironically, the same person who told me I might not learn much from him ended up being the first person I learned from.
With each sales call, I picked up something new. The company’s mission slowly started to make sense, and so did my place in it. My admiration for the team grew. Three weeks later, two more people joined us—one took the only remaining seat in the office, the other worked remotely.
By then, I understood why they had told me I’d learn a lot from them. I learned to do tasks that once made me think, “How the hell do people even do this?” Sometimes I got it wrong, but there was always someone there to correct me—and more importantly, explain why.
Two months in, I finally met the person who had hired me—he’d been working remotely all that time. (Side note: my job interview had been via video call, which was rare before the pandemic.) I kept learning from him too—one of the company's founders. They offered me a full-time role, and of course, I said yes.
A month later, just before Christmas, I met the other founder. He was also working remotely from outside the country. After greeting everyone, he looked around and said,
"We need a bigger office."
There were ten of us in a space meant for six. My desk partner opted to work from a beanbag, conveniently located right next to me. After an intense search, we found three possible office options—and chose the one that best fit our needs in terms of space, environment, and location.
We eventually moved just one block away. Amid the chaos of relocating, we spent a week working remotely—a preview of what was to come. The new office was four times larger than the old one. Some of us even had our own desks, drawers, ergonomic chairs, and enough room to stretch our legs. We had a terrace on the 19th floor where we ate lunch while admiring the city.
Departments were split: the three-person sales team shared a big desk, and the rest of the space was taken by us, the tech team.
You can imagine my excitement: a new year, new job, new colleagues, a new building, and an amazing view. Little by little, we added those "nice-to-haves": a huge company logo on the wall (great first impression), a microwave (a must), furniture, a TV, and even a PS4.
Around the same time, the two remote teammates flew in for the company’s first kickoff meeting. It was the first time the whole team was physically together. A new team member also joined us, and during that kickoff, we held a workshop that truly inspired many of us.
Two months passed. The office felt more and more like home, both in infrastructure and in spirit. I met three former interns, heard interviews (always via video call) with new hires, and celebrated several birthdays. I grew more comfortable. I developed routines. And, of course, I got to know my teammates even better.
Then came March 2020—a month we’ll all remember.
Three days before the government declared mandatory quarantine, we had already made the decision to work from home. We took what we needed, assuming we’d be back eventually. But as we all know, things escalated quickly.
We held a company-wide meeting to explain the strategy: delayed projects, client priorities, and—most importantly—a clear message:
We’re strong enough to get through this together.
Even with the challenges of remote work and isolation, we pressed on. The company stayed resilient, moving forward slowly, but surely. Something kept pushing us to give our best, to never give up, even when the path ahead seemed uncertain.
Looking back now, I know what that something was: culture.
Eight months later, we were 19 people, spread across five countries. Many of them I’d never met in person, yet I’d spent hours working alongside them. We no longer had a shared physical space, and we knew remote work would likely continue for months.
And so came my reflection.
After everything—the pandemic, the uncertainty, the challenges—I realized something:
Work is about so much more than where you sit, the size of the office, or the logo on the wall.
It’s not about how "cool" or "big" your workplace is. What truly matters is culture.
If you analyze each member of our team, you’ll find something we all share.
It might not be visible to the naked eye, but you feel it the moment you speak with someone from the team. That "something" is culture.
And it's not a culture imposed by the founders or the early hires—it’s a culture we’ve built together.
Whether you joined two weeks ago or two years ago, if you feel that "something," you know you’re in the right place.
Now, as our startup prepares to make the leap to becoming a more established company, the challenges are bigger—but the culture is still the same. That’s what keeps us chasing the dream. Even if we can’t fully see it yet, we know we’ll get there.
So, if you’re still wondering why culture matters, I’ll let Reed Hastings, CEO of Netflix, answer that in the words of his famous podcast:
“Culture is capable of transforming a regular full-time job into a dream, and you can’t put a price on a dream.”
