CTO is a title. I wanted the job written down.
Reality Check gave me a simple roles document outlining my responsibilities going forward. The company was about fifteen people, and this was clearly an early attempt at formalizing an executive role.
That was fine. Simple was better than imaginary.
The useful parts were the reporting relationship, the actual job description, and the goals the company expected me to reach. Those details mattered more than a polished offer packet because they created something concrete to discuss when priorities changed or performance was reviewed.
My first months had already stretched across storage, networks, customer infrastructure, hiring, team process, and the broader direction of the company. A title alone could not say which of those things I owned or how the founders expected me to spend my time.
The document did not solve every ambiguity. It gave us a place to start.
I sent it to somebody close to me who was considering a first vice-president role at a company she did not own. I also sent my own offer letter and goals as examples, then walked through the points I thought she should make explicit before accepting.
Some of that advice was about compensation and protections. The more important part was authority. If a company wants an executive to change how the business works, it has to give that person enough room to try, enough clarity to be evaluated fairly, and a direct understanding of who makes the final call.
I was learning the same thing in real time.
Reality Check's version was not a sophisticated corporate package. It was a short document from a small company figuring out what it wanted from its CTO.
The job now existed on paper as well as in my inbox.