When you're burnt out, cynical, and convinced the content industry is a lie, the last thing you expect to find is a team worth staying for. But I did.
Here's how two years at dslx changed me.
How I met Ray
When I first met Ray over a virtual meeting, I was still recovering from a big burnout. Heck, I was still going through it. In my mind, I was so ready to give up on content forever, yet had no idea where to look or which road to take. So, I kept applying to content jobs, hoping deep down to find one that fits—one that would evolve into a content-less job in a short while. (Oh, look! I used an em dash, take that haters!)
I found dslx on Google while browsing content agencies advertising open positions on their website, not LinkedIn. There wasn't a concrete open position when I applied, but dslx had an application form for freelancers, so I took my chance.
Ray got back to me.
Come March 25, 2024, we had a meeting and chatted through the horrors of content. He understood my pain and was so empathetic. Too empathetic, I thought, with Eastern European suspicion in my heart.
He told me he liked my work and my personality, and that he’ll reach out to me when there’s an open position at dslx. “Another lie,” my mind whispered while striking the gavel so loud I couldn’t hear our meeting’s goodbyes.
Joined for the monsters, stayed for the people
A few months pass. I was in my probation period on a (dead-end) content job. Ray emailed. An Account Manager position opened at dslx. Do you want to throw your hat in the ring? (not Ray’s exact words, but I can’t find that email anymore). I interviewed for the job, got an offer, and quit the other job immediately.
July 1st, 2024, was my first day at dslx.
Although beyond excited to prove my annoying inner cynic wrong, during my first days I was looking for proof dslx was a lie. I was hypervigilant, analyzing how people talk to each other, how managers ask for updates, how deadlines were set. I was looking for clues of a toxic workplace hidden under cute branding and big words. I found none. 🤔
I still couldn’t believe this was genuinely a good bunch of people. Paranoid, I turned to looking for signs that I didn’t belong. Didn’t find any either. 😶
In my first week, I messed up some SEO briefs for our biggest client at the time. I cried my eyes out, expecting things to get ugly. They didn’t.
Before meeting my manager to discuss what happened with the briefs, my forehead bore sweat beads the size of bumblebees, and my hands were clammy as a toddler's after an hour of frantic Play-Doh kneading.
Ella, my manager, told me, “Stef, your approach is just different from what the client wanted. You did nothing wrong. Now we know what they want, and we can meet their expectations.”
Culture shock alert! Eastern European suspicion entered the chat again:
What do you mean dslx treats mistakes as learning opportunities and treats people with kindness when they mess up?
Thoughts: “Weird, but oh so nice! What a change of pace. Should I be suspicious? No, Stef! Do yourself a favour and leave suspicion outside the door.”
I spent my next months ✨flourishing✨ and giving my all to the job. Learning, bonding, chatting, cracking jokes, being productive, and… dare I say it, happy!
Through better or worse
Fast forward six months and the big client didn’t renew at the end of their contract period. A big budget hit for dslx, a big morale hit for myself.
At that point, my anxious, paranoid thoughts crept back in: “Hello, stranger, thought you’d rid yourself of us?” I tried to hold the blame. I analyzed how my work may have somehow lost us the client. Thought how my best wasn’t enough. Of course, I kept most of this to myself. But somehow the team read between the lines and pulled me out of the spiral.
I felt valued.
I felt seen.
So, that’s what a team really does, huh?
Finally, I was ready to shut down my self-doubt, close the pity party, and row with the team through the murky waters to keep dslx afloat.
On a personal level, my life was in shambles. My father had just been diagnosed with a terminal illness. My productivity tanked.
Employee evaluation time rolled around.
Expectations: Sorry, you’re fired.
Una sorpresa para esa chica though (dslx is Barcelona-based, so this makes sense 🤫), I was not only NOT fired, I was encouraged to find a solution that fit me and my new personal circumstances. I decided to switch to a four-day working week and cut down my hours to spend more time with my father.
Thanks to dslx, I had one more day per week to visit my father in his last year on this Earth.
I didn’t lose my job.
I could come home each weekend, listen to his favorite vinyls together, drive him to chemo, and cheer him on.
Ray, Ella, I’ll be forever grateful for this. 🙏
Content went to pot
With Fridays off, my week got manageable again. dslx was afloat, and we kept building it like bees do a hive despite our industry facing an existential crisis (again… worse than a teen at this point!). Ray’s calm demeanor and transparency in the face of industry uncertainty kept us hopeful, but grounded. Ella’s consistency and dedication to helping us do what we do best kept us sane.
We had time to build communities, brainstorm new revenue avenues, and re-grow—quietly.
We had brainstorming roundups where the boss was actually interested in his employees’ opinions, not looking for an echo chamber boomeranging his ideas back to him.
I could respectfully disagree, and nobody was getting offended. Every one of us had an equal place at the table. We voted on ideas rather than bringing them in front of an executive to make a decision.
Trust and camaraderie grew among us. My inner paranoid voice subsided for good. I finally accepted I was a part of this, and these were my people, and I theirs.
Pixels became people
My first offsite at dslx showed me what that trust looked like in person.
Four days in the Spanish mountains, away from Slack and calendars. Ella became the person who ran back to a bus with sweat on her forehead to grab a forgotten bag. Ray became the one bringing butter croissants, leading us blindfolded up mountain trails, creating space for us to be vulnerable. Armin and Sharan stopped being names in the group chat and became the people whose laughter I could feel in my chest, whose coffee and tea preferences I'd learned, whose singing by a bonfire would stay with me for years.
That offsite killed my paranoia.
There's a difference between believing a team is genuine and knowing it in your bones. I came back from Barcelona less defended, more certain. This was my team. These were my people.
The work I do here matters because they matter.
I rediscovered why I got into content, my writer voice started to resurface, and my confidence grew.
Ella told me in our latest review one-on-one:
“I know you don’t necessarily love writing, but whether you like it or not, you have it in you.”
To my surprise, I was happy to hear that. dslx helped me understand that I wasn’t running away from the writing itself; I was tired of toxic feedback, unnecessary client friction, and non-creatives who don’t get the struggle or appreciate the craft, managing me.
I stopped running away from writing and fell in love with it again.
The dslx culture nurtured me back to being a writer
My main job at dslx is to manage client accounts, not writing. On occasion, my calendar sees a few writing tasks, and after two years of being part of a content hive, I don't hate it. I look forward to those mornings—shutting off my Slack, phone on silent, settling into my corner with a coffee that's still steaming. The research rabbit holes come first, with hours dissolving into archived blog posts, competitor whitepapers, customer interviews buried three pages deep. My notebook fills with half-formed sentences, margin sketches, questions that might never have answers. There's no ping. No urgency. Just me and the work, the way it should be.
I don’t know if this is a gratitude stream of thoughts, a flicker of hope for burnt-out writers out there, or a sign for those searching for their version of dslx. Hopefully, this little article helps someone feel a tiny bit better in this crazy job market. Or inspires a business owner to lead with kindness. Or gives a writer the pen thirst.
Whatever it is you take away from this, know that a strong team bond needs time. It took me two years to want to, quoting our dear Sharan, “punch someone in the face for dslx.”
