My first 100 days at the rec hub

I’ve always found those “first 100 days” leadership posts a bit self-congratulatory. 

Usually written by people who are already polishing their LinkedIn headlines to say “transformational” and “visionary” before they’ve figured out where the coffee machine is. But here we are, 100 days into my new chapter at the rec hub, and I’ll admit, it’s probably worth taking a moment to take stock. Not because I’ve transformed anything (yet), but because the path to this point has been anything but linear. 

Let’s rewind for a second. 

A few months ago, I stepped away from immersive. 

A business I built from scratch with nothing but an idea, a lot of late nights, and a refusal to follow the usual agency playbook.

Letting go wasn’t easy. In fact, it was bloody tough.

immersive wasn’t just a job or a company, it was personal. It carried my fingerprints on everything from the slide decks to the stubborn refusal to kiss the arse of clients who didn’t get it. So yeah, selling it and walking away wasn’t a decision I took lightly. 

But it was the right one. 

I’m now part of the rec hub, and before you ask, yes, I have a boss. A real one. The kind who puts meetings in your diary and occasionally reminds you to update the CRM.  

And yes, he wasn’t even born when I was starting my first full-time job.  That’s not a dig, it’s just maths.  

But it does throw up the occasional moment of existential something or other when I realise I’m the only one in the room who remembers work before the internet, mobile phones and a whole bunch of other things (what do you mean you only had 4 channels on TV?). 

That said, having a boss isn’t quite the culture shock you might think.  

Maybe it’s age. Maybe it’s experience. Perhaps I’ve just mellowed (don’t quote me on that). But there’s something oddly liberating about being part of a team again, especially one that’s scaling fast and actually gives a shit about doing things differently.  

I’m not talking ping-pong tables and Slack emojis (although they are there). I mean proper grown-up ambition with a clear direction and a culture constantly looking forward.  We are not perfect at what we do, but we are focused on getting it right. 

Now, don’t get me wrong. The first few weeks were weird. 

You go from being ‘The bod Who Makes the Decisions’ to the bod looking at a complex spreadsheet that covers every element of a hiring process in a client you don’t know, delivered by a team that you haven’t met.  

That level of detail is disorienting.  I’m not stupid, and I understand data and yet I had no idea where people were coming from. 

What’s taken the most time is figuring out my place.  

I’m effectively the bridge between what was promised in a pitch and what gets delivered by our delivery teams.  

And that’s a delicate dance.  

On one hand, there’s an ex-agency approach that wants to solve everything in 24 hours. On the other, I’m working alongside talented delivery folk who don’t need rescuing, they need clarity, context, and the space to do their thing. 

So, my job has become about connection. 

Translating the big talk into real talk.  

Making sure our clients don’t feel like they’ve bought a dream and received a to-do list.  

And making sure our teams don’t feel like they’ve been set up to fail because someone oversold the magic beans. 

It’s a role I didn’t realise I’d enjoy, but I do.  

Maybe it’s the years. Maybe it’s the scars. But I get a real kick out of helping people join the dots, especially when those dots involve actual humans doing actual work, not just dashboards and decks. 

The other thing I’ve realised is this: being part of something bigger has its upsides. I don’t have to do it all anymore. I can lean on people who are better than me at stuff I’ve blagged for years. 

Ops. Tech. Finance. The bits that used to keep me up at night now sit on someone else’s to-do list. And let me tell you, sleeping better is underrated. 

That doesn’t mean I’ve gone soft. 

I still ask awkward questions. I still roll my eyes at bullshit, and I still believe recruitment is broken in more places than most want to admit. But I’m not carrying it all alone anymore, and that’s no small thing. 

I’m also optimistic.  

Not in a rainbows and manifesting sort of way, but in a grounded, Gen X, ‘we’ve seen worse’ kind of way. 

The rec hub has teeth.  

We’ve got the right people, the right intent, and a bit of a chip on our shoulder, in the best possible sense. We know the market is noisy. We know clients are jaded. And we know there are competitors out there playing the “embedded but actually agency” card with the same enthusiasm I have for cold rice pudding. 

But that’s exactly why we’ll win. Because we’re not pretending. We’re building partnerships that don’t just last a quarter. We’re solving problems others avoid. And we’re honest, sometimes to a fault, which is why I fit in here better than I expected to. 

So, 100 days in. I’ve got a boss. I’ve got a team. I’ve got a calendar that sometimes looks like it’s been organised by a particularly chaotic squirrel. But I’ve also got energy. And ideas. And a feeling, just a gut thing really, the next chapter might be the most interesting one yet.

Because here’s the truth no one tells you about stepping away from your own business: the ego hit is real, but the freedom is better. You get to play a different game. One where you’re not chasing invoices or fixing broken Google Sheets at midnight.  

One where your impact is measured by what gets built, not just what gets billed. 

And that, for me, is the real win. 

This was first posted at: https://www.rec-hub.com/blog-posts/my-first-100-days-at-the-rec-hub-by-martin-dangerfield/