Alright, so let me tell you about this stint I did with a company, or rather, an idea, called “fight right inc.” The name itself, you know? Sounds pretty grand, like you’re on a mission. And that’s exactly how they got me roped in. An old colleague, super enthusiastic, calls me up, “You gotta be part of this, we’re gonna make waves with ‘fight right inc’!” I was at a point where I was looking for something new, something with a bit of spark, so I figured, why not listen?
The Grand Plan… Or So It Seemed
So, I took the plunge. The pitch? Oh, it was all about empowering people, giving them a voice, helping them “fight right” for whatever. Super vague, right? That should’ve been my first clue. But when you’re sold a dream, you sometimes overlook the details. They threw around a lot of fancy words, talked about cutting-edge tech, being lean, agile, all that jazz. Sounded amazing on paper. But paper and reality, two different worlds, my friend.
It didn’t take long for the shine to wear off. This “grand plan” felt like it was written on an Etch A Sketch. One week we were building a platform for consumer advocacy, the next it was about ethical sourcing, then something else entirely. It was like they were playing buzzword bingo with good intentions. Exhausting, to say the least.
And what was my role in all this? Officially, “Lead Developer.” In reality? I felt like I was trying to assemble a jigsaw puzzle where the pieces kept changing shape and the picture on the box was smudged. My day-to-day was basically:
- Trying to get anyone to agree on what we were actually building. That was a full-time job in itself.
- Sketching out designs and coding up prototypes that, more often than not, were binned before the week was out.
- Endless meetings. I mean, so many meetings where we’d talk in circles and leave with more questions than answers.
- Attempting to be a diplomat between different factions within the company, each with their own “vision.”
We were always busy, always in a rush, but it felt like running on a treadmill. Lots of motion, zero progress. We had the cool office, the free coffee, the works – all the startup trimmings. But the actual product, the thing we were supposed to be creating? It was like chasing smoke. And an expensive puff of smoke at that, considering the cash they were burning through.
People, Politics, and Problems
The team itself was a mixed bag. Some genuinely talented folks who really wanted to build something good. But then you had layers of management, and honestly, it often felt like they were working against each other rather than with us. It wasn’t much of a cohesive unit. More like a bunch of people sharing an office space, occasionally bumping into each other’s projects. Communication? A nightmare. You’d get one set of instructions, start working, and then someone else would come along and tell you to do the exact opposite. It was pure, unadulterated chaos.
I vividly remember this one project. We poured weeks into it. Late nights, coffee-fueled coding sessions, the whole deal. We were actually proud of what we were putting together. Then, the main boss waltzes in after some fancy conference, announces he’s had an epiphany, a “new direction,” and just like that, our work was scrapped. No discussion, not even a “hey, good effort.” That stung. A lot.
It became pretty clear that “fight right inc” wasn’t really about fighting for anyone’s rights outside those office walls. It felt more like a battleground for internal egos, for who could come up with the most disruptive (read: confusing) idea of the week. And resources? Always “coming soon” but rarely materializing when you actually needed them. We were meant to be “agile,” but it was just headless chicken mode. Agility needs a target, a goal, even if it shifts. We were just spinning in place.
After a while, I just couldn’t do it anymore. I looked at what I was doing, and it wasn’t building anything, it wasn’t helping anyone. I was just wearing myself out for a company that seemed to be having an identity crisis. So, I handed in my notice. And man, the relief was immense. Last I heard, “fight right inc” was still “exploring new opportunities” or “pivoting” – whatever they call it these days. Whether they ever found their “right fight,” I don’t know. And to be honest, I stopped wondering pretty quickly.
What’s the takeaway from all that? Well, a catchy name and some beanbag chairs don’t make a solid company. And if your core mission is a wobbly mess, no amount of frantic energy is going to fix it. You need clarity, a real purpose. Otherwise, you’re just fighting phantoms and wasting everyone’s time. That was my “fight right inc” chapter. Definitely an experience.
