December 26, 2024. The Trailblazer.

You know those glamorous startup stories that begin in Silicon Valley garages or fancy co-working spaces in Jakarta? Well, this isn't one of those. This is a story that starts with a guy, a laptop, and a wobbly table in a tier 3 city in Indonesia. Oh, and let's not forget my trusty chair that makes interesting noises every time I move – my own personal sound effects department, if you will. The chair has become such a constant companion that I've started logging its different squeaks in my daily journal, each one marking a different milestone in this journey.

The startup world loves its origin stories, doesn't it? The dorm room where Facebook was born, the garage where Apple began, the coffee shop where Alibaba was conceived. My story? It begins in a 3x4 meter room, with walls decorated with sticky notes containing half-formed ideas and debugging notes.

When I tell people I'm building a company, they probably imagine an office, a team, maybe some bean bags (because apparently, you can't innovate without bean bags). The reality? It's me, my laptop precariously balanced on a table that has mastered the art of dancing whenever I type too enthusiastically. I've gotten pretty good at the "catch the falling water bottle" game, though. I'd put that on my resume, but I'm not sure "Professional Table Stabilizer" is a sought-after skill yet. Though, come to think of it, maybe that's my backup career if this startup thing doesn't work out.

My journey into tech wasn't a straight path. In fact, it wasn't even a path – more like a series of awkward jumps between "what I should do" and "what I want to do." I studied engineering in college, not because I dreamed of building bridges, but because that's what good students did. The internet became my real university, though. Between YouTube tutorials, Stack Overflow discussions, and countless documentation pages, I built my own curriculum. My professors might not have understood why I was spending more time learning React than thermodynamics, but hey, at least my side projects kept my laptop warm.

Starting up in a tier 3 city is like trying to explain blockchain to a cat – technically possible, but the audience isn't really there for it. When people here ask what I do, and I mention I'm building a tech company, they look at me like I just said I'm planning to colonize Mars. Actually, that might have been an easier sell. At least Mars has some real estate potential.

The fun part about being a solo founder with zero network is that you get to have lots of interesting conversations. Like this one with an old friend from school:

"So, you're doing what?"

"Building a company."

"Oh, like a warung (small shop)?"

"No, a tech company."

"Ah, so you fix computers?"

"Not exactly..."

"You should open a warung instead. My cousin opened one last year. Now he has two!"

These conversations happen so often that I've started keeping a mental bingo card. "Get a government job" is the center square, "What about teaching?" is usually the first corner filled, and "Your cousin just got promoted at the bank" is the guaranteed winning square.

I've become fluent in what I call "startup solitude" – that special feeling when you're excitedly explaining your vision, and the only one who seems to get it is your reflection in the computer screen. Even that looks skeptical sometimes. I've had full presentations to my room's walls, complete with imaginary Q&A sessions. The walls haven't invested yet, but I remain optimistic about their potential as future stakeholders.

The closest people in my life have mastered the art of the concerned head tilt. You know the one – that perfect 45-degree angle that somehow communicates "We love you, but have you considered a normal job?" without saying a word. I've started tilting my head back at them. It's become our special language. Sometimes we have entire conversations in head tilts, each angle conveying a different level of concern or stubbornness.

But here's the thing about starting from zero – there's a certain freedom in it. When you have nothing to lose, you can't really lose anything, right? (I'm pretty sure that's not how math works, but let's go with it.) No network? Great, every connection is a win. No capital? Fantastic, every rupiah earned is infinite percent growth. No startup ecosystem? Perfect, I'll just have to build that too. No pressure.

The internet has become my best friend, mentor, and occasional therapist. Thank goodness for global connectivity, or I'd be trying to learn programming from the birds outside my window. Although I must say, their debugging advice is surprisingly straightforward – when in doubt, just chirp and fly away. Not exactly applicable to coding, but I appreciate the simplicity. I've spent countless nights talk with people across different time zones, explaining my ideas while trying to keep my voice down so I don't wake up the neighborhood.

Running a startup from here means I've had to get creative. My first "office" was wherever I could find stable internet and a flat surface. I've conducted international calls from some interesting places, trying to sound professional while neighbour provide unexpected background music. Nothing says "serious businessman" quite like having to mute yourself because the neighborhood cats and dogs are having a heated debate outside your window.

The thing about being a trailblazer is that you spend a lot of time using a machete to cut through the jungle of doubt, skepticism, and "practical advice." Everyone has an opinion about what you should do instead. Open a shop. Get a government job. Become a teacher. All respectable paths, but not mine. I've started collecting these suggestions in a document titled "Alternative Universe Careers" – it's surprisingly therapeutic.

Some days are harder than others. There are moments when the silence of working alone gets loud, when the weight of being the only believer in your vision feels heavy. But then something amazing happens – you solve a problem that seemed impossible, or you get that first message from someone who actually gets (or have some interest) what you're trying to build, and suddenly, the wobbly table and the squeaky chair don't matter so much.

I've learned to celebrate the small wins. Wrote code that actually worked? That's a party. Got through a meeting without the internet cutting out? Break out the virtual confetti. My celebration usually involves treating myself to a special cup of coffee from gofood. They makes sure I'm well-caffeinated.

The truth is, building something from nothing, especially here, is like trying to cook a gourmet meal with random ingredients while the cookbook is in a language you don't speak. It's messy, confusing, and sometimes you wonder if you're actually making food or inventing a new form of abstract art. But maybe that's exactly what innovation looks like in places like this – making something work with whatever you have, wherever you are.

The future? It's as wobbly as my table, but that's what makes it exciting. The goal isn't just to build a successful company – it's to prove that innovation can happen anywhere, that you don't need a fancy address to dream big.

So here I am, trailblazing away, one wobbly table day at a time. No network? We'll build one. No ecosystem? We'll grow one. No believers? Well, that's what the internet is for – somewhere out there, someone gets it. They might just be stuck in a meeting right now, or perhaps they're sitting at their own wobbly table, dreaming up their own impossible thing.

To anyone else out there starting from zero – whether you're in a tier 3 city, a village, or anywhere that's not a startup hub – I see you. Keep going. Keep building. And if your table wobbles too, just consider it a built-in reminder to stay agile. Remember, every unicorn started as a wild idea in someone's mind. Maybe the next one will come from a place where the streets don't have names on Google Maps yet.

After all, every big story starts somewhere. Mine just happens to start here, with a squeaky chair providing the soundtrack to what I hope will be an amazing journey. And who knows? Maybe someday, when people talk about startup hubs in Indonesia, they'll mention this tier 3 city. And maybe, just maybe, they'll remember that it all started with a guy, a laptop, and a very wobbly table.

The chair is squeaking again. Time to get back to work.