Equity at the Earliest Stage

Equity as Ethical Practice

In the early days of a company, money is scarce, but the work is constant and foundational. Every hour someone puts in—often unpaid or underpaid—carries risk and weight. The decisions we make about equity in this season aren't just financial. They're ethical. They're relational. They shape the story we'll be telling for years, whether we mean to or not.

Over time, I've come to see early equity not as a bonus or a perk, but as a reflection of contribution. Not just who was around, but who meaningfully helped build what exists. My approach is shaped by two things I try to hold together: fairness and generosity.

The Dynamic Value of Early Contributions

Much of my thinking here has been influenced by the Slicing Pie model, which treats equity like a dynamic ledger rather than a static grant. It asks a simple but powerful question: what is someone really putting in? And how do we match that with a form of ownership that reflects their actual investment?

This feels especially important in the earliest stages, when the value of a single contribution can vary wildly depending on timing, context, and risk. A week of work before product-market fit isn't the same as a week after. Writing the first thousand lines of code, making the first dozen sales calls, sticking around through a messy pivot—these moments shape the company in ways that often aren't visible on a cap table.

When someone contributes without a salary, or with a deeply discounted one, they're not just working—they're investing. And I want to treat that with the same seriousness I'd give any outside investor. Not with rigid spreadsheets or overly transactional terms, but with a posture that says: I see what you're giving, and I want to honor it.

Balancing Fairness with Generosity

That's where fairness comes in. But I don't want to stop there. I want to leave room for generosity, too. That has sometimes meant revisiting someone's grant after seeing the depth of their commitment. It's also meant forgiving debts or offering more ownership than I "had" to. Not to win favor, but because it felt right. Because people matter more than precision.

Of course, I've made mistakes. I've given too much too early, before understanding someone's level of commitment. I've delayed hard conversations because I didn't want to seem unfair. I've under-communicated what equity means, assuming others had the same frameworks I did. And I've seen how those quiet missteps can grow into bigger disappointments later.

But I keep returning to this: equity decisions tell a story about what kind of company you're building. Who you trusted. What you valued. What kind of future you imagined together.

You can always give more later. You can't take it back.

For me, fairness is the floor. Generosity is the aim. If I'm going to make mistakes—and I will—I'd rather err on the side of someone feeling honored. Not because I'm trying to be virtuous, but because I know what it feels like to be seen and treated as someone whose time, risk, and care mattered.

And in the end, that's what equity should say.