What changed when I became the only HR person
In a big team I had a lane. At a 60-person startup, I had to decide what the lane was, and say it out loud.
I had to decide what the lane was.
Illustrative example. This story and its author were written by the hr.cafe editors to demonstrate the Turning Point format. It does not describe a real person or event. Real, contributor-approved stories will replace it.
Key takeaways
- Being the only HR person meant every request felt urgent because nobody else could triage it.
- Publishing a short “what I do / what I don’t do yet” note reduced confusion more than working longer hours.
- Saying “not yet” with a date was received better than saying yes and delivering late.
- Role
- First HR hire
- Organization
- Climate-tech startup, ~60 people
- Region
- Spain
- Timeframe
- First nine months
For six years I worked in a large retail HR team. There was an employee relations specialist, a reward team, a learning team and a very patient HR systems analyst. When something landed on my desk that was not mine, I knew exactly whose it was.
My first month as the only HR person at a sixty-person startup, I kept a list of every request that reached me. It had ninety-three lines. They ranged from an employment contract for a new country to a founder asking whether we “should do OKRs.”
The assumption I brought with me
I assumed that being useful meant being responsive. In my old team, a fast answer was a kindness, because the answer usually existed. Here, most answers did not exist yet. Being fast meant inventing policy in a Slack thread.
What shifted
The turning point was small. A manager apologized for “bothering me with something so minor”: a question about a notice period that I had been sitting on for a week because it was tangled up with a contract template I had not finished. He was not bothering me. I had simply never told anyone what I was working on, so everything looked equally ignored.
That week I wrote a one-page note: what I do now, what I will do next quarter, and what I don’t do yet. It included the things I was deliberately not building, like a formal performance cycle. I shared it in our all-hands and pinned it.
The note did not reduce the work. It reduced the number of people wondering whether their request had disappeared.
What I do differently
I say “not yet” more, and I attach a month to it. I ask leaders to choose between two things rather than asking whether they want both. And I update the note every quarter, including the items that slipped. People have been more forgiving of slipped dates they can see than of silence.
What remains unresolved
I still do not know how to handle requests that are small, urgent and emotionally heavy, like a manager who needs help today with a difficult conversation. They never fit on a quarterly note, and they are often the most important thing I do all week. I would value hearing how other team-of-one practitioners protect time for those without letting everything else slide.
Questions for peers
Sofía Marín would like to hear how this plays out in your context.
- If you were a team of one, how did you decide what to stop doing?
- How did leaders react when you said “not yet”?
Respond to Sofía
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