People often imagine the CEO as the heartbeat of a company. But what they don’t see is the silent coordination happening behind every decision, meeting, and deadline. As the Executive Assistant to the CEO of a unicorn startup, my job is less about scheduling calendars and more about protecting momentum.
My day starts before most inboxes wake up. Overnight investor emails, global meeting requests, urgent legal documents, last-minute changes — everything flows through me first. I filter chaos into clarity so the CEO can focus on vision instead of noise.
The real challenge isn’t multitasking — it’s anticipation. Knowing what problem will appear before it does. Booking travel that survives sudden pivots. Preparing briefing notes for conversations that may change the company’s direction. Reading between the lines of conversations, moods, and signals.
Speed is the culture here. Decisions happen in minutes, not weeks. Priorities shift hourly. You learn to stay calm inside uncertainty. Flexibility becomes muscle memory. Precision becomes survival.
What I love most is the access to learning. I observe negotiations, leadership styles, crisis management, investor psychology, and growth strategy up close. It’s like a living MBA — except the stakes are real, and the pressure never pauses.
People underestimate emotional intelligence in this role. You become the bridge between leadership and teams, urgency and empathy, ambition and sustainability. Sometimes the most important task is protecting mental bandwidth, not just time slots.
There are days when everything flows beautifully — meetings align, decisions land cleanly, momentum accelerates. And there are days when plans collapse within minutes. You breathe, adapt, and rebuild. Quiet resilience becomes your superpower.
Being an EA in a unicorn isn’t about being invisible — it’s about being indispensable without ego. You don’t chase credit; you chase excellence. Watching a company scale from inside the engine room teaches humility, discipline, and deep respect for organized chaos.
I may not be on stage, but I help make the stage possible.