The Ballad Of Johnny "Cache" And Adventures Of Mr. Cowboy

We tend to think professionalism means sanding off anything playful. Be competent, be crisp, be neutral. Don't be weird.

But "neutral" has a hidden tax. Over time, seriousness without relief doesn't make a team noble—it makes them tired. So I've come to believe in a small heresy: you can do serious work and still choose a light persona as your way in. Humor and character aren't a detour from the work; sometimes they're what make the work survivable—and memorable.

Mr. Cowboy (and eventually Johnny "Cache") began when I went to a friend's cowboy-themed wedding in Montana—formal attire meets cowboy boots. I thought I nailed the outfit, and it felt good. A few months later, in the weirdness that was still 2020, I road-tripped through the Colorado Desert, and the cowboy look came in handy in those harsher, stranger landscapes.

Trying to reach the Salton Sea, I accidentally trespassed onto a date farm. While I was wandering the property, a date farmer pulled up in his truck. He looked every bit the cowboy and gave me a stern look. I got the message: I was on land where I didn't belong. As I scrambled to leave, he fired several warning shots in my direction. I wasn't hit, but being shot at is not an experience I recommend.

After the Salton Sea, I made my way to Salvation Mountain—brightly painted, otherworldly, and as surreal as its name. From there I continued west to Joshua Tree and then to Pioneertown, where a photo of me in full cowboy gear was taken.

My takeaway from that near-death moment with the date farmer was simple: take more risks, place more bets. I invested in crypto, bought GameStop stock, and interviewed at early-stage startups because I didn't like my job. One of those companies was Notion. That's how I discovered Next.js, which eventually led me to Vercel.

At Notion, when asked to share a fun fact on my first day, I mentioned being shot at by a date farmer while dressed like a cowboy. That sealed my reputation. The timing was perfect: every new hire at Notion got a hand-drawn profile picture in the company's illustration style. My first version turned out poorly—it exaggerated my receding hairline—so I asked a friend to redraw it with a cowboy hat. That little tweak cemented my identity: I became the "cowboy guy" on Notion's Slack. Over the years I leaned into the persona, sharing photos of my travels and stories of the Southwest. The cowboy hat became a fixture. Eventually I'd make Notion Faces with custom illustrated cowboy hats to spread more of that delight.

When I left Notion earlier this year, I thought I'd leave the cowboy behind. But when I interviewed at Vercel and saw I'd be meeting people named James Clements and Skully Skullface, I realized I had to meet someone named Skullface. On my first day at Vercel, I resurrected the cowboy persona—this time with a little more polish. My work at Vercel drifted toward a multi-month untangling of our CMS caching layer that proved to be a leviathan to slay. My teammate Logan suggested the very relevant rebrand to Johnny "Cache". Get it. Caching, Cache, Johnny Cash. Anyway…

And, in a final twist, the cowboy I thought I'd retired has taken on a second life. Notion recently launched AI agents, and my once-deactivated cowboy profile has returned—as a cowboy-themed AI agent in a Notion workspace.

Mr. Cowboy began as an outfit choice and turned into a portable way to bring levity into rooms where everything mattered. That's why I keep him around.

The work is serious. The people are serious. But the method doesn't have to be. A persona—used lightly, repeated sparingly, and kept honest—can be a small act of care for your team and for yourself.