I’m off from NetShelter and on to the next big thing

I'll be scanning horizons, like this one in Montana where I canoed the same stretch of the Upper Missouri River that Lewis and Clark did.

After three years and two months at NetShelter Technology Media, I’m off, and when I say off, I mean off — as in I’ve served my last official day. So I’m not just off-off, as in taking a “sabbatical” but I’ll soon enough be off to (yet another) new start.

I just don’t know where just yet.

There was a time when the suspense of not knowing what or when would have startled me awake at night, with a heart hammering to a grunge band beat. These days, however, I’m sleeping like the family dog, sort of. While she’ll wake and woof at an unfamiliar oin drop, I’ll snooze through calamity’s bang, clatter, and cymbal crash.

One of the comforts of leading a life full of varied career experiences is that you begin hear not just your brain but your heart — those little inklings that keep goading with the hard, if subtle, truths about yourself.

And my inner voices have been telling me for a while now, “Hey, it’s time to move on.”

Of course, my decision to leave NetShelter wasn’t an easy one. It’s bittersweet at best. Although I’ve always been the intrapreneuring type, NetShelter marked by first “real” start-up experience. And, hoo boy, what a run it’s been — up and down as many steep streets as San Francisco’s cityscape.

When I arrived, we didn’t even have an office. When I left, we occupied hip digs right across from AT&T Park, a location alone that made my time at NetShelter memorable.

In between, the company, which was started in Toronto by two twenty-something, managed to attract two rounds of venture capital, establish itself as the world’s 18th largest Web property, and take its place in the media major leagues, with the likes of my old and still mightly alma mater, CNET Networks.

I was also privileged to be part of a team that remained true to itself, and, instead of zig-zagging, as so many companies do, kept iterating in a straight line so that it now owns a vision, mission, and strategy — a story — that’s clear, differentiating, authentic, and compelling.

So why did I decide to depart — and especially when the company has been crushing its numbers?

Well, for one, I needed a break. People don’t get old; they just get tired. After spending more than 15 years weathering the disruptions that have beset media — not to mention two earthshaking economic recessions — I needed a break. NetShelter’s two founders, Peyman and Pirouz Nilforoush, were kind enough to allow me to leave graciously, on the best of terms, and still a believer in their brash ambitions for their new kind of media company.

What’s more, the company was operationally maturing, putting into place the necessary organizational structures and systems that make a half-assed organization a big-ass one.

I bitched as much and as loudly as anyone about how much we needed those kinds of changes. But once they started to fall into place, it became clear that there just wasn’t the right place for me within them. Not they we didn’t try. The P’bro’s and I did, time and again. If patience is a virtue, these are two righteous dudes.

Speaking of virtues, I have to mention the many great members of the NetShelter team, those still there and those departed, who put up with the loud, and often sick, sense of humor: Dana O. (my unforgettable sidekick), Laura, Jen, Katrina, Steph, Bella, Chris L., Nicole, Fred, Katie, Kathy, Brandon Z., Lisa, Michael, Eric, Jackie, Sloan, Brandon F., Colleen, Linda, Kim, Randy, Peggy, Dana S., Carol, Grant, Ann, Anne Marie, Brian, Thierry, and Barry, just to name a few.

All of them have dirt on me — and if they ever rat on me I’m toast. But at least I’ll go laughing at the many merry adventures we had together, at Pete’s downstairs and many other events, restaurants, and watering holes here, there, and everywhere.

For the next several weeks, I’m going to kick back and try — it won’t be easy for a guy who’s lived to work — to provide the attention deserved by my wife, daughter, son, and dog, Mocha. I’m going to putz in my backyard. And, oh yeah, clean the garage.  I promise, honey.

And then I’m going to start to survey the horizons, just as I’ve always done. My guardian angels have never failed to lead me to the next thing. If they haven’t abandoned me yet, they won’t desert me now.

Until that next thing comes along — and it will — I’ll be available for project work. Meanwhile, keep in touch. I can be reached at patrick@patrickhouston.net. I’ll be posting to my @patrickhouston Twitter account.  And for anyone who wants to know more about me, tune into my Linked In profile.