The £22 Cost of a Dream: From Founder to Provider
The clink of glasses. Laughter, a little too loud, bounced off the exposed brick. “To the new job!” one shouted, clinking against the other. The new hire, beaming, took a long swig of his craft beer, a hopeful sparkle in his eye. Across the small table, the founder returned the smile, a practiced, almost convincing curve of the lips. His own beer sat untouched, condensation beading on the cold glass. Inside, a frantic scroll, an endless digital ticker tape of acronyms unwound behind his eyes: PAYE, NEST, P45, NI, CIS, IR35… a silent, suffocating litany. What had he done? This wasn’t just a hire. This was a whole new level of commitment, a weight he hadn’t fully anticipated.
The idea, once a nimble, almost ethereal entity, now had feet, a salary, and, God help him, a future. A future that hinged entirely on him. The transition from a solo operator, where every success and failure was a personal victory or lesson, to someone responsible for another person’s rent, their weekly grocery bill, their kids’ school uniforms, their dog’s vet visits – it was staggering. It wasn’t the £2,200 salary that terrified him; it was the invisible contract signed in blood, a promise whispered to the universe: I will provide.
The First Hire Paradox
I remember a conversation with Peter P., a digital archaeologist I met at a conference – the one where I accidentally spilled coffee on the