He spent ten years being the person CEOs could not run a company without. Then he became the CEO. Biteable, SurveyMonkey, Calendly, Thrive, PicMonkey - the resume of an operator's operator.
Brent Chudoba spent a decade as the second name on the org chart. Chief Operating Officer. Chief Financial Officer. Chief Revenue Officer. The titles changed, the job rarely did: make the machine run, hire the people who make the machine run, and resist the urge to declare yourself right too early. In early 2020 he took the one title he had never held. He became CEO of Biteable, and he did it the week the world went remote.
Biteable is a video creation platform. Founded in 2014, built remote-first across a globally distributed team, it has put studio-quality video in the hands of more than seven million people who are not editors, not animators, and have no interest in becoming either. The pitch is blunt. "Video is the most powerful communication medium we have ever seen," Chudoba says. "Yet video creation is listed as the number one creative bottleneck for most organizations." Biteable exists to remove the bottleneck, not to win film festivals.
That clarity is the Chudoba signature. He is not a founder-poet selling a dream. He is an operator who has watched what actually breaks inside fast-growing software companies, and Biteable is where he gets to fix it from the top instead of the side.
The interesting part of the resume is not the destination. It is the reps. Chudoba's operating career started at SurveyMonkey, where he joined as employee number fourteen and stayed seven years. Fourteen is a specific number. It means he was there before the company was a company, when the survey tool everyone now takes for granted was still a small team and a big bet. He left as Chief Revenue Officer, having run SurveyMonkey Audience as its General Manager in between.
From there he kept choosing the products people quietly rely on every day. PicMonkey, for the photos. Thrive Global, for the well-being. Calendly, for the scheduling, where he was COO during a stretch of growth that turned a simple link into a verb. He sat on the board of Schoology for nearly a decade, through to its acquisition by PowerSchool. The throughline is productivity software that disappears into the background of millions of workdays.
He did not start in software. Before the operating years he was an investor at Spectrum Equity and, before that, an investment banker at Piper Jaffray. The academic path is just as off-script: a political science degree from Columbia, not a computer science or MBA pedigree. The finance training shows up in how he thinks about KPIs and capital. The political science shows up in how he thinks about people, alignment, and the slow work of building consensus.
Take the new job. Most first-time leaders arrive convinced they can see what everyone else has missed, and they are often correct. Chudoba's reframe is sharper: "Your instincts are probably right. Timing probably isn't." The gaps a new CEO spots, the missing sales-ops function, the absent FP&A discipline, are usually real. The mistake is announcing them on day one and spending your credibility before you have earned it.
His rule for big decisions reads like a koan with a stopwatch attached. "Wait until you're uncomfortable waiting. Then wait a little longer." He uses onboarding weeks to interview his own team and sit with customers, and he says plainly that he often changes his initial convictions once he understands the thing he was so sure about. That is rarer than it sounds. Most leaders treat changing their mind as a tax. He treats it as the point.
On hiring he is uncompromising and quotable. "When you make a great hire, they become a multiplier for their entire department." Which is why the bar never moves: "If a candidate is not a hell yes, they are a no." Seven words, no asterisk.
Chudoba has packaged the decade into a cohort-based course on Maven, Startup Leadership Unleashed, aimed at founders and CEOs of ten-to-two-hundred-person companies. It runs through foundations, positioning, communication systems, goals and roadmaps, and the unglamorous mechanics of managing people. His core insistence is that "mission, vision, and values shouldn't just be words on the wall." Treat them as operating systems or do not bother writing them down.
The course is not abstract. It runs through five pillars he has actually lived: foundations, where mission and positioning and the right KPIs get nailed down; positioning, the work of being legibly different; communication systems, the operating rhythms that keep a growing team aligned; goals and roadmaps, the quarterly themes and performance frameworks; and people, the hiring, onboarding, compensation and the hard transitions nobody enjoys. Five-thousand-word strategy decks tend to skip the last one. Chudoba puts it on the syllabus.
It would be easy to mistake Biteable for a design toy. Chudoba does not talk about it that way. He frames video as the medium organizations most want to use and least know how to produce. Marketing teams need it. Internal communications need it. And in almost every company, the person who could make a video and the person who needs one are not the same human, so nothing gets made. Biteable's bet is that templates, motion, and a forgiving editor close that gap for the seven million people who will never own a timeline-based editing suite.
There is a quiet consistency to the whole arc. SurveyMonkey made it trivial to ask a question. Calendly made it trivial to book a time. PicMonkey made it trivial to fix a photo. Biteable makes it trivial to put a message in motion. Chudoba keeps choosing the same shape of problem: a task most people find intimidating, handed back to them in a form they can actually finish. He is not building for power users. He is building for the other ninety-five percent.
He runs it remote-first, which in early 2020 stopped being a quirk and became the default. Biteable was distributed across the globe before distributed was fashionable, and the $7 million Series A in 2020 was earmarked to expand exactly the functions an operator obsesses over: engineering, design, product, customer success, sales, and marketing. The capital was not a moonshot. It was fuel for a machine he already knew how to run.
The phrase he keeps returning to is the one that sounds like a bumper sticker until you have actually tried to run a growing company: get comfortable with being uncomfortable. He means it less as motivation and more as a job description. The discomfort of waiting, of changing your mind, of holding a hiring bar when you are desperate for a body in the seat. That is the work. Chudoba spent ten years learning it from the second seat. Now he runs the meeting.
Video is the most powerful communication medium we have ever seen. Yet video creation is listed as the number one creative bottleneck for most organizations.
Your instincts are probably right. Timing probably isn't.
Wait until you're uncomfortable waiting. Then wait a little longer.
If a candidate is not a hell yes, they are a no.
Mission, vision, and values shouldn't just be words on the wall.
New leaders spot the real gaps - sales ops, HR, FP&A. The error is acting before you've earned the room. Teach and convince; skip the "I told you so."
Use the early weeks to interview the team and meet customers. Let the deeper picture change your mind. The best decisions arrive after the discomfort, not before it.
A great hire lifts an entire department. So protect the bar even when you're desperate. Hell yes, or no.
He studied political science at Columbia. No CS degree, no MBA - just a knack for people and alignment.
He came up through Wall Street and private equity before he ever shipped software.
Ten years of COO, CFO and CRO roles before he took his first CEO seat. He earned it the long way.
His entire hiring philosophy fits in seven words: if not a hell yes, it's a no.