From "CEO" to "Startup PM"

Stepping down from the top to relearn the ropes in the smallest team

Hitting the Peak of My Career

Looking back, it was a pretty glorious time.

I had climbed as high as a corporate employee possibly could. When I accidentally joined an early-stage startup, it was a time of building the business and the product simultaneously; every day was an endless series of problem-solving, and the company grew visibly. During that growth, "what needs to be done right now" took precedence over any defined roles. Thanks to that, I naturally became involved in almost every area of the company.

Eventually, we were acquired by a conglomerate, and as the company grew, the organization was restructured. Outsiders called us a "successful startup." In the process, I became C-level—an executive, as they say—and even got my own office. Starting the day in a space with my personal nameplate, the sheer size of that room intuitively explained my status. Ultimately, I took charge of the new business entity, and the title of CEO naturally followed.

The upward momentum never paused for a single moment, and there seemed to be no reason for it to stop. Honestly, there wasn't a single second when I lacked confidence. Fearless and oblivious to humility at the time, I opened my eyes one day and found myself the CEO.

Having It All, Yet Having Nothing

I had everything I could possibly have.

I shuttled between two companies, serving as the VP of the main business and the CEO of the new business entity. In the process, I built the infrastructure for Korea's first "non-face-to-face identity verification telecom subscription" and contributed to the phase-out of universal public certificates and the formation of the private authentication market. It was a position where I could make larger decisions and mobilize more resources. Even the envious glances from people around me felt natural. Sitting at the same table with the previously distant conglomerate presidents and executives was no longer anything special.

On the outside, it looked like nothing was missing. At least, that's what I thought at the time. However, the nature of the work filling my days was gradually changing. Rather than defining and solving problems, I was spending more time persuading stakeholders, and creating materials to justify potential became more important than agonizing over a valuable product.

Justification preceded potential, and explanation was required over execution. Every choice had to be acceptable from a shareholder's perspective, and consensus and verification replaced the speed of quick experiments. It wasn't that this approach was wrong, but it wasn't how I worked best. At some point, I had become a person who reported problems rather than solving them. The tactile sense of building a product faded, and the gap between what I was good at and what I was actually doing was widening faster than I thought. That was when this question first popped into my head:

"Is this really what I wanted to do?"

Letting Everything Go

In the end, I chose to quit.

Decision-making was getting slower, and the momentum of the new business naturally lagged. My calendar was packed, but execution was empty. The longer the process of reviewing various possibilities took, the more noticeably the gap with the market widened. In a position where I could no longer control the situation, I couldn't give myself an answer anymore as to whether working the way I used to still made any sense.

I made the decision without much hesitation, and it was firm. The answer had already been set at some point, and now I was just putting it into action. I decided to go back to my roots. Instead of a role that managed and explained, I wanted to start over with defining problems myself and building products. I wanted to choose the density and direction of work over scale or titles.

So, I let go of everything and joined DelightRoom.

Small Team, Fast Speed, High Density

DelightRoom is small.

The organization is small but systematic, and everyone's roles and responsibilities are crystal clear. They all work with gentle faces, but their gaze when looking at problems is quite sharp. They are tenacious about sticking to the basics, and a tension to maintain those basics at a high standard flows throughout the entire company.

No time is wasted. A single meeting or a single decision immediately leads to execution. They are so agile that "fast" feels like an understatement, and there isn't a single person you could call idle manpower. Each person knows the exact weight of their work and never shies away from it. This approach is close to the epitome of how every startup aspires to work. They don't hide behind the word "autonomy," and they don't comfort themselves with the word "passion." Instead, they speak with results. That's why this team is a bit special. Quiet on the outside, they are running relentlessly on the inside.

And only after entering the organization do you feel it: the pressure this environment creates. The pressure of my own presence, the pressure for performance, and above all, the pressure from my teammates. Because the people I work with are so rock-solid, I can't afford to cut myself any slack. Here, nobody waits for anyone else's pace. Everyone just works at maximum density from their own spot.

Right in the middle of all that, I am once again working more fiercely than ever.

Things I Finally Began to See After Stepping Down

From PO to PM: stepping down another rung.

After joining as a PO, I created meaningful results in the subscription model and ad monetization. It was a position where I had to prove myself with numbers, and I delivered. On the surface, it probably looked like I had quickly found my footing again.

But a lingering sense of inadequacy remained. It didn't feel like I was fully deploying the capabilities I had built up across various organizations. I thought it might just be a matter of time to adapt, but as time passed, a different thought started to creep in.

Eventually, I readjusted my role to PM. It might have seemed like a choice to step down a level, but that was when things finally began to come into view. It wasn't that I was failing to demonstrate my abilities; it was more that I still lacked the right capabilities to properly flex in an organization like this. I was used to setting broad directions, but I was missing a lot when it came to tenaciously cementing the basics, designing the process, and matching the team's speed. Having focused heavily on results, there were moments when I hadn't looked closely enough at the density of the process that created those results.

You could say I came all the way down from the very top to the bottom, but my perspective has actually widened, and my hands-on sense has become sharper. Standing in front of problems again, rather than in a seat explaining decisions, I started to see details I hadn't noticed before. I can personally feel that my individual capabilities are growing at their fastest pace right now. My title got lighter, but the density of my work got heavier.

There was a time when I believed that only moving upward meant growth. Stepping down, I realized something. Growth isn't about height; it's about depth.

And right now, from the lowest place, I am learning that depth.