Raising defensively: founding companies without losing them

Debt is Coming to Silicon Valley and some Startup Tailwinds Vanish. Startups are changing. What’s a founder to do? Having started a company in a tough, buyer-controlled, enterprise, regulated industry and grown it to VC scale and growth trajectory, this is my perspective. It’s not a covid-driven approach, even though the current environment makes it seem obvious; it’s the way I’ve approached building TrueAccord to be sustainable and make a meaningful difference while keeping investors and employees happy and well compensated.

Thank you to the people who reviewed drafts of this post in the past year (!) You know who you are.

This is where I started

2009 or 2010 was the first year I’d heard the phrase: “This is a bubble, and it can’t go on this way.” I had no idea whether it was true. It was a wild ride that I wanted to be a part of: 106 Miles had monthly meetups that founders of unicorns-to-be showed up to. Startups felt subversive and cool. Facebook had around 1000 employees and Jack Dorsey was pitching Square to fifty people at Yishan’s co-working space. The options felt limitless and money started pouring in. In May of 2009, DST invested in Facebook at a $10B valuation and people sniggered and thought they were insane. Startups were founded out of Palo Alto and Mountain View, and San Francisco seemed too far and too foggy to care about.

A decade later the startup world and its undisputed capital, the San Francisco Bay Area (“Silicon Valley” or “SV” from now on), are completely different beasts. The abundance of startups, the money invested in them, and the constant moving of goal posts for what it means to be successful have transformed expectations and dynamics. Money, its engineering, and the riches it can bring have overshadowed the area’s roots in technology and design, and are reflected in the ideas behind, and the tremendous growth of the behemoths of present days. 

We don’t often talk about this change. Tech companies’ early success and the narrative they propped up have changed SV into a distributed corporate world where middle and top management, VC fund managers, fund and encourage a production line of startups that grow and mostly flame out, chewing up and spitting out generations of would-be founders and employees in the process (also see Alex Danco’s excellent Twitter thread about VC as “production capital”). This production line was created to reduce risk and improve returns for portfolio-optimizing fund managers and corporate buyers. Facebook’s purchase of Instagram was seen as outrageous, but only two years later, its purchase of WhatsApp made complete sense. Big tech is still printing money, and its ability to buy market share, pay to block competition, or simply hire and retain top talent with golden handcuffs has never been stronger.

The production line of startups wasn’t created by some evil mastermind, but by alignment of incentives between many different players. However, while it’s arguably net good for the technological advances it brought to the world, it is both bad for the average founder and discourages innovation that doesn’t fit specific patterns. Yet startups that don’t fit this production pattern can be both profitable and incredibly world-positive, by solving problems that are acute and large, but don’t lend themselves well to blitz-scaling or turning into a unicorn in just a few years. To protect themselves and their ideas from being crushed by the machine, founders who must raise VC need to engage in planned and defensive fundraising.

I am not a tech skeptic. I started, helped start, and sold a few companies myself. I am running a VC-funded technology company right now, and I live among tech people and investors. My wife is a partner at a VC fund. This is my reference group. I think technology is a net-positive power that has changed the world for the better, even if I quibble with the definition of what that change is or should be. The positive effect of tech behemoths is clear even if they also need to be kept in check, and I hope to see most of the current crop of large companies persist and succeed. At the same time I find that the zeitgeist creates structural challenges for companies that try to make a difference without sticking to the acceptable growth playbook, whether by choice or by the limitations of the markets they operate in. No one is essentially a bad actor in this ecosystem; everyone has to respond to market dynamics and opportunities they are presented with, resulting in blind spots and inefficiencies that are important to recognize and, if you’re exposed to them, minimize the risk of their impact.

The rise of startup factories

The last recession led to historically low interest rates, and large pools of money were looking for returns, making money significantly cheaper and more risk-taking. That trend has only intensified in the past decade. Endowments, retirement funds managing an impossible task of showing at least some match between their future liabilities and growth in assets, and even high net worth individuals, are all looking for investments with high return profiles. VC funds sucked up a lot of that capital. The rate of new funds getting started quadrupled in the past decade, vastly outpacing the pace of creation of great investment opportunities. 

With the establishment of corporate VC arms and M&A activity by traditional companies looking to buy innovation, SV has become a solution for large cos’ innovator’s dilemma: outsource market and product risk to startups, funded by VCs, and buy them up when they mature for much less than the time, money, and pain involved in developing said products and markets in house. Flipping small engineering teams to Google and Facebook for $10-50m was a distinctly 2009-2011 phenomenon. Selling unprofitable companies’ stocks to public market investors at scale is a recent trend that may already be waning. Pushing risk down the hierarchy then selling whatever emerges back to corporate America is a profitable and effective value creation process. 

Markets are efficient, and SV is characterized by highly efficient if not overtly explicit information sharing. Simply follow VC twitter and read the blog posts: there is enough competition to squash any antitrust argument, but the VC twittersphere does an incredible job of reporting, repackaging, and enforcing trends in valuation, hot product segments, and financial management. VCs talk and deal with other money managers, leading to deals between firms. In addition to corporate buyers, secondary sales became much more structured: as Felix Salmon of Axios reports, 20% of VC returns in the past year have been to PE buyers, converting high growth into cash flow, while others sold to other VCs who had earmarked more late-stage capital. And so, faced with an influx of cheap capital and established exit mechanisms to buyers with clearly defined incentives, like any efficient market, SV responded. It did so in two ways: the rise of startup factories, and a valuation arms race.

Startup factories were a natural evolution, since the rest of the value chain was already professional and at-scale, and startup supply needed to catch up. Startup creation was never just a serendipitous event, but it has become significantly more specialized and commoditized in the past decade. SV’s long track record bred professionalism and structure in sourcing, attracting, and funding startups and founders, many of them still flock to SV to start their companies. Larger funds keep tabs on the market through smaller, stage-focused funds, external feeder funds, and through venture partners and scout programs. The larger, legacy ones even go back and manage their partners’ and successful founders’ personal wealth through specialized vehicles. It’s funds all the way down, staffed by incredibly ambitious and intelligent people, and they needed startups to fund. It’s not a surprise, then, that the most iconic VC ever, Sequoia Capital, has funded the most iconic startup factory ever, Y Combinator.

Startup factories evolved through the years to meet market requirements, and in the process have commoditized entrepreneurship. The most successful of them scaled to thousands of companies, many more alumni founders, and a support network like no other. They screen candidates, offer coaching and initial traction through cross selling to their network, and even imply higher valuations and better treatment from investors since the corporation has an iterative, multi-round game relationship with these investors that founders can’t develop. Their credentials are now being compared to Ivy league schools, and if one is focused on the signaling value of having attended a factory, that comparison makes complete sense. Being accepted into YC has a value in and of itself, and doesn’t imply anything about the value of the team, their idea, or what problems they’ve managed to solve for their current enterprise. In fact, many founders are encouraged to focus less on their initial idea, pivot through the program, and follow many truisms that create that type of companies that the factory knows how to market effectively to upstream investors.

When value is not as strongly coupled with product or company performance, stock prices and valuations become much more important metrics. Higher valuations serve many different purposes in SV, the least of them luring employees, uneducated about equity, with the promise of vast riches. What’s measured and rewarded gets optimized for, and private market valuations, not relying on any established formula, are very easy to optimize and increase through either simple hyperbole, VC FOMO, or structured rounds. Since valuations are shared without any discount for complex terms, even in VC reports to limited partners, they prop founder egos as well as fund markups. VCs rely on these markups to raise subsequent funds that pay 2+20, some founders run a private secondary round, and most win. 

The problem with this pattern is that it both creates and reinforces the power law distribution of VC returns, focusing VC and founders on a smaller number of ideas and companies that can demonstrate the traits that lend themselves to production line dynamics, rapid top line growth, and valuation manipulation. It creates a thin layer of successful founders, propped up by tech blogs who are rewarded with eyeballs for drumming up stories of success (and sometimes, the eventual fall from grace) of multi-millionaires and billionaires. Along the way it crushes companies that seemed, early on, like they fit the patterns, raised too much money and mismanaged it, and burned out or ended up as zombies with a preferred stack that no one wants to touch. Those companies could have a positive impact on the world, they could make their founders and early employees rich, and they could have a legacy. Instead, they’re another logo scrubbed from a fund’s portfolio page, their founders fired or feeling trapped in a role that doesn’t fit them anymore. I am not giving examples intentionally, because this isn’t about skewering a specific fund or company. It’s a market dynamic to pay attention to.

What if you still want to start a company?

What do you do if you’re a founder starting a business that requires venture capital to get started, but don’t want to get chewed up by the machine? What if you accept, as you should, that the high growth, high margin days or the Internet’s early expansion days are over? Many companies need external funding to exist, whether because they need to build meaningful technology, because of fierce competition or a tough market, or because its founders can’t take the financial risk of starting a company. One option is to sacrifice one go-around to the gods of the virtual corporation, prove yourself, get those Nouveau Ivy League creds, then do it again your way. One for them, one for me. The other option is, alas, more complex.

That is why I’m proud to announce Other Option Ventures, a $100m fund–

Just kidding!

Debt focused or revenue-based-financing funds argue against the power law-chasing VC funding, a futile effort that misses the point. The funding market is becoming more sophisticated and better segmented. The days of founders automatically being fired after series A are gone, but so are the days of complete founder control. To take that to the other extreme of solely profit-based funding is short sighted. The market offers multiple vehicles and structures, whether equity or debt based, to fund operations. Founders have to be smart about how, when, and who they take funding from, because there are more, not less, options. Therefore, my top advice for founders raising money is this: raise defensively.

Raising defensively means finding the right path between growth-at-all-costs mentality and the low stakes, low conviction world of lean startups. Companies need capital and (relatively) cheap capital is available; there’s nothing wrong with raising money to grow. However every company, even the most successful ones, runs into roadblocks and company threatening events. You can’t plan for them, especially if your market presents fundamental structural issues, you’re proven too early, or luck just isn’t on your side. A defensive fund raising strategy means protecting your future self, the one that has to deal with this company threatening event, more options. Less investors on the board to reduce board drama and conflicts, lower average valuations that keep everyone calmer, lower burn that lets you make adjustments without forcing a RIF, and a friendly equity holder base that won’t object to a 4-year re-up of your equity position to make sure you don’t get diluted to oblivion. Raising defensibly means prioritizing control over valuation, choosing your VC partners very carefully, and being as capital efficient as possible. 

Raising defensibly also means resisting market signaling and expectations around round size and valuation increases. Valuations should converge to reasonable multiples of revenue by your series B or C, and round sizes should decrease, not increase. 409A valuations will remain defensibly low, allowing you to compensate with equity, but you will need to continuously explain to employees why structured, inflated valuations hurt them. You will not conform to “traditional” round milestones and timing, often raising once a year in controlled valuation increments, using convertible note “bridges” between equity rounds to capture available funding without forcing a priced round too often. You’ll embrace the proven unhelpfulness of most money managers, opting to raise money from mostly uninvolved investors, punctuated by a small number of highly involved, high leverage ones. You’ll need to exercise tight financial control and pay close attention to margin. You may need to explain to employees why you can’t just hire to solve issues; you’ll need to let underperformers go instead of hiring above them. You may never publicly announce a round (gasp!). Generally speaking, the traditionally laissez-faire management approach many startups demonstrate cannot apply, because it will set you up to fail.

Building defensible businesses isn’t necessarily better than any other approach. It is probably the wrong approach in highly competitive markets that work well with blitzscaling and effectively convert investment dollars to top line growth. It is, however, an adjustment in management and fund raising practices that can increase your chances of long term financial success, better returns for patient investors, and an enabler for innovation that wouldn’t exist otherwise if we all focus on how to reach a $1B valuation as quickly as possible.

Equifinality

The most dangerous person I ever met was a retired Mossad killer.

I know, I know, I spent a decade giving my American friends crap for assuming every Israeli knows a Mossad killer, and here I am telling you about literally knowing one. In my defense, I don’t actually know him. We merely spent a long weekend together on a bike trip through the Israeli desert, together with a friend of mine who used to go by the name Guttman the Gray and another guy called Shayke who went on to become a Zen master in Northern Israel.

Yep, we were huge dorks, but we didn’t care.

Danny, the retired guy, was an unimposing, short man in his 60s, with a belly, long and wispy silver hair, and a lisp. He made his own energy bars. He was a recluse. What I’m trying to say is he made George Smiley, John le Carré’s fictional anti-hero spy, seem like an upstanding member of society and a raging extrovert. However, since we were all obsessed with martial arts at the time (and for almost a decade afterwards), he was willing to offer some of his knowledge. And his knowledge came down to this: it’s not the size of the dog in the fight, it’s the size of the fight in the dog.

It sounds stupid. I knew it was stupid: there was a reason MMA had weight classes and if I tried to sweep a guy 40 kilos heavier I’d get a sprain (I tried, and I did). Small guys don’t win in straight up fights. This oddball “Mossad guy” wasn’t going to tell 23 year old me what winning a fight was all about. I had teachers. I was informed.

And then, to make his point, Danny took my friend down, mid conversation, out of nowhere, with a shoelace. No, I have no idea how he had a shoelace in his hand all of a sudden and frankly I couldn’t retrace his actions to save my life. I do know this: one moment the guy, a head taller and probably 50 kilos heavier than Danny, was standing. The other moment he was down and was not a happy camper. For us, fighting was wearing our nice training gear and bowing to each other and then engaging in some gentlemanly exchange of blows. For Danny, every second was a chance to kill you when you weren’t looking.

This was my first visceral “oh shit” moment. I had an immediate epiphany that maybe I had no idea what I was talking about, and that with enough constraints removed there are many ways to reach a goal. Quite literally, there are many ways to kill a guy. The weekend continued with a more mellow tone. Suddenly we didn’t feel like we had a lot to contribute to the discussion.

I think about that episode often when facing adversity. I learned, years later, about equifinality: the principle that in open systems a result can be reached through multiple paths. I’ve always disliked riddles, most board games, and generally situations that force you to accept arbitrary limitations set by others. Conversely, I’ve learned this is one of the main reasons I enjoy startups. There are many ways to solve complex-enough problems.

Remembering equifinality is a good way to develop an antifragile mindset. It helps me process advice about dealing with covid-19 and generally any chaotic situation. No one really knows, and there are many ways out of this, and like one retired guy who may or may not have been a real killer, once I accept there are very few constraints, I can reach incredibly creative solutions.

A warrior walks into a room: startup founders right now

My Sensei’s teacher used to say: “When a warrior walks into a room, everyone is a little bit safer.” Now there are no real rooms, just virtual ones, but I still think it’s true. A warrior joins a conference call, and everyone calms down just a bit.

Startup founders are warriors. Maybe the tide is turning and not everyone’s got bathing suits on, but we are. We thrive on chaos. We seek risk and uncertainly. Boy, did we NOT sign up for this but we ARE going to make the best out of it, and we’re going to pull everyone else up with us.

Warriors fail. Warriors sometimes lose. Not everything works out in life and maybe your company will fail. I will do everything in my power to make mine thrive. I do deeply hope that everyone stays healthy and safe. We don’t guarantee victory but we guarantee we have a shit-ton of fight within us. On social media, in conference calls, in company Q&As, in group emails, in slack channels. Get your shit together. You have a job to do.

A warrior walks into a room. You walk into a room. What are you going to do? I know my job. Do you?

NOT as usual, if you need to connect, I’m at osamet67@gmail.com

The decade of Should

Why do I do what I do? I could quote Ozymandias or the story about the Businessman and the Fisherman. Instead, here’s this tweet from Andrew Wilkinson.

What a stark difference from self indulgent “How to be Successful” twitter nonsense threads from SV luminaries yet, still, too prescriptive and infused with unacknowledged privilege. It’s not that he’s wrong; it’s the distinct “welcome to everyone else’s life” vibe, the discovery of the joy of fishing once you’ve built the business rather than just enjoying fishing in the first place, that I both strongly identify with and feel is, at the same time, incredibly ridiculous.

I don’t have any aspirations to tell others what to do. The past decade has been insanely good to me, through a combination of luck and hard work. Coming into this decade, and starting the fifth decade of my life, I’d like to remember that the Big Things we think matter, really don’t that much. That I matter a lot to a few people and I don’t matter all that much to most people, and that’s just how life is. That after satisfying my basic needs it’s more important to think whether I should do something rather than whether I can. I will continue making mistakes, but maybe less. I hope to enjoy the journey more. Most of all, I hope to not take myself too seriously.

CEO dinners

A few years ago one of my HR people suggested that I start having small CEO dinners with teams as a way to get to know people, talk about the company, and create another forum to exchange ideas. I liked the idea immediately. Earlier this year I also ran across this story about Greg Popovich and how he uses dinners for team building. It all made sense: eating is a communal activity and connecting around a shared meal is human nature (though we go to a reasonably priced tapas place in SF, not a Michelin-starred restaurant).

Since I’m not much of a smalltalk aficionado I had to find a structure that worked for me, and I settled on personal histories. Each participant (these are usually very small events of up to 6 people including me) spends some time talking about their personal history, in as much detail as they would like, and answer questions from others if they’re open to them. I’ve listened to some incredible life stories and perspectives this way and even more than they helped my team connect with me, CEO dinners helped me connect with my team beyond the 150 person point, one that have I never crossed before as CEO.

I found that most people have a really hard time talking about themselves, even if they desperately want to share. I also found the people’s stories change as they attend more dinners, either because they highlight different aspects of who they are, or because they’re more comfortable sharing. I’ve had to learn to ask questions in a non-intrusive and empathetic, genuinely curious way, to get people to open up. It helps that I really like these people but it didn’t happen by itself. Naturally I also put my foot in my mouth several times with ill-timed questions. It’s a process.

Having small-forum CEO dinners that people choose to attend, and learning how to ask people questions became an important way for me to connect with my team, especially as it is growing. I recommend you try it. Just don’t take my usual table at [restaurant name redacted].

Founders, VC funding won’t save you

A few weeks ago I made a silly Twitter joke about starting a fund that invests $300 to make you a unicorn. 99.99% of the readers got it. A couple dozen people who showed up in my DMs and pitched me seriously did not. At some point I even asked what they’d do with $300 and one guy said “maybe buy a ticket to an investor meeting”.

This isn’t good. Not only because it reeks of desperation, but because it signifies a fundamental misunderstanding of venture capital funding and how to use it. I see two reasons for this misunderstanding: founders internalizing the constructed narrative around VC funding as the panacea for tech startups, and VC partners’ branding as enlightened king makers. Both are wrong.

Not enough people talk about VC funding being a tool in a tool box, and those who do often talk their niche position rather than make a general argument on how companies can grow. Companies flush with cash also tend to make a lot of noise (then mostly die with a whimper) on “tech blogs”, the startup world’s Instagram. In addition, many founders have been mostly in school, where you study in a constrained system and get graded by someone, so the North Star metric of funds raised seems appealing.

This is insane. It creates crazy situations. I don’t talk to many early stage founders and I’ve already come across people who are trying to raise millions to fund products that 1000 users could pay for. A two-digit team with only one developer and no one else even learning to code. A team of “business founders” unable to recruit a single developer, raising money to employ contractors. If this sounds like your company, stop raising right now. You’re already failing, and if by miracle you manage to raise funding you’ll just fail slower.

The other issue is the VC narrative. Most VC partners are smart and talented people who mean well and try to do right by everyone. They are also virtually indistinguishable; much like buyout firms correctly think every technology company tastes like chicken (Robert Smith WSJ story here), most VC funds are commoditized agents, pulling money from common resources and deploying it into an undifferentiated deal flow. As commoditized agents do, they invest a lot of time in branding, focusing on outsized successes (infrequent) and conveniently tucking away failures (the norm). Founders fall in that trap like many others do, and hope to be the next anointed genius, talking about “investors who can help us” with starry eyed devotion. It doesn’t last. VCs usually can’t really help you. It is not the VC’s fault and they’re not the bad people here. It’s just reality.

If you’re starting a company, especially if doing so for the first time, you owe it to yourself to understand all the tools available to you. You have to think clearly what success means, and plan accordingly. See yourself, investors, customers and other players for what they are – imperfect players playing a game. Don’t lose yourself in it.

What’s a Chief of Staff

I have a chief of staff at TrueAccord as of 2019 and I had one at Klarna. I see people hiring for chief of staff who don’t really have any staff, which is interesting. I think CoS became a fancy term for an executive/personal assistant or a stand in for ops manager, and that’s unfortunate especially for people who take this mislabeled role and then try to get hired as a CoS under someone who knows what to expect.

So by elimination, what a CoS is not: they are not in charge of the exec’s calendar, other than for meetings that really manage staff (e.g. staff weekly operating meeting, KPI dashboard, monthly and quarterly planning, etc.) They shouldn’t be doing your expenses or getting lunch when you’re in back to back meetings. There’s a place for an assistant but a CoS isn’t it. A CoS isn’t an operating executive either. You hire an executive to do a job you’re currently doing, only better than you. They are often a subject matter expert (even if that expertise is people or general management) and they take on operational responsibilities and manage to goals through others. While in a big enough company the CoS may manage the office of the executive (including the assistant, for example), they are not operating independently of the executive.

A chief of staff is an extension of the executive. They often have some overlap in interest, capabilities, and responsibility areas with them. Other than operating cadence for the exec’s staff, they mostly work on ephemeral projects aimed at progressing the exec’s tactical interests: solve a tactical issue, pressure the organization to progress on a specific task, and so on. While they represent the exec they are not them, so they can act with similar authority but not be as intimidating which is helpful when putting the pressure on lower levels of the organization. At TrueAccord, my CoS facilitates weekly leadership meetings, supports budgeting and board meeting prep, and then works on a variety of tactical projects, spending time with analytics, client success, accounting, or sales as needed. There is a lot to be gained from hiring the right person to be your CoS to do the right type of work. It’s a waste to do so to make yourself feel important.

About finding your place

It happens that a man is born into a foreign land.

It happens that although he has a father and a mother, brothers and sisters, a language and culture – he is actually from someplace else, and he doesn’t know that he is. He agonizes his whole life, until he realizes it, and starts his journey back to his homeland, one he never visited and no one can guarantee even exists.

This man is born into hell, and initially he doesn’t know that it is hell that he was born into.

He goes on to live his life, stumbling over and over, and only after a long while something happens: a moment of grace, when he gets to see – if only for a fleeting moment – his own place in the world. A torn postcard from his place, let’s say. Or someone who’s from there that passes by and smiles – a moment that changes his life, because he suddenly realizes that that place exists. That he isn’t dreaming. That there is a better life than the one he’s living now. And, of course, at the same moment he realizes that he’s living in hell.

(Uzi Weil, originally in Hebrew. The bad translation is mine.)

***

I was standing in the middle of the dance floor, suited up. The speakers were blaring pop music from the stage above the DJ, where one of the country’s most popular singers gave a full performance. I was surrounded by tall, beautiful, extremely trendy people drinking cocktails and yelling over the music, or taking a photo of the singer on their phones.

This launch of a new European investment fund was wrong on so many levels.

***

I fell in love with Silicon Valley on my first visit. It wasn’t nature or the weather. It was the people. So charmingly approachable, and enthusiastic, and authentically interested in technology. So awkward and obviously using well rehearsed communication protocols that they reverse engineered. It was geekdom. I was hooked.

It took me two and a half years to get my Green Card. When it was time to prove my vaccination history for the application process I just re-took all of them, because it was much shorter. My corporate-appointed immigration lawyer asked me to stop pushing her to handle the process faster. I was obsessed. I was going to be a part of the action. Silicon Valley was my place.  

***

Every attempt I’ve seen to replicate the Valley misses by a long shot. It happens when you focus on appearance instead of essence, and forget history. It’s easy to focus on Elon Musk, the guy with the perfect hair who was dating that actress or singer. Who cares. Elon Musk who started PayPal was a geeky, balding guy who teamed up with a crazy hedge fund manager who wanted to overthrow the government with a new currency, and fought him tooth and nail until they both became rich. Microsoft is this software behemoth and Bill Gates is a billionaire but he’s also the world’s worst dad dancer who forgot to eat if he got into an argument, and destroyed his opponents without making eye contact.

Try to observe what makes this place tick. Listen. Don’t fixate on the end condition. Don’t fixate on the glamour and survivorship bias. Silicon Valley is what it is because geeks built it and geeks maintain it. That’s the one thing those other ecosystems get wrong. They have lunch meetings and take five-week vacations. They won’t help unless you give them equity. They promote within their well-defined cliques. They try to get a project funded with a part time CEO and a 20% “chairman of the board”. They invite models and pop stars to launch parties and think the deal flow will just reveal itself. That’s missing the point.

***

Popular culture looks at the Valley’s successes and misgivings and weaves a narrative. Sure, it’s over funded, and over hyped, and over the top in many ways. It has a ton of problems. It’s starting to crack under the hype and abusive behavior by people who don’t get it. Silicon Valley is counter culture, even if what it counters varies and changes. It always tries to oppose, and sometimes forgets to lead. It is also a source of aspiration and inspiration to everyone in tech. It sets a tone.

My talk for TrueAccord’s 2018 Holiday party

Welcome, everyone, to our annual Holiday party. I’m so happy to see so many faces, people who’ve joined us this last year and people who’ve been part of the team for a few years now.

We’ve grown in so many ways as a company, and I want to take this time to thank all of you for your hard work.

I also want to tell you a story.

Lately I’ve been binge watching Chef’s Table on Netflix. I get inspired by people talking about their passion, so even though I’m not much of a cook, I love hearing others talk about cooking.

I watched it for a while and started noticing that there were episodes that left me inspired and ones that didn’t. And after some reflection, I realized the ones that didn’t inspire me were the ones with a glitzy success story focused on one lone genius figuring it all out on his own.

The chefs that inspired me were the ones who faced adversity. They experienced grief. They took time to figure things out. Their episodes showed their family, and friends, and coworkers —of people spending time, together.

Because it does take a village to build something great—a great restaurant, a great company. It takes a community. And the stories we tell about how we got here and what’s coming next matter. A lot.

When we started this journey five years ago, we had a simple story. We wanted to use technology to change debt collection.

Over the years, we grew. We added more people. We added more voices. Our story changed with the people who joined, because each person has added his or her own perspective.

With time, we realized that we have a bigger role to play than we first thought. We are not just about a great customer experience. We do much more than that.

We meet people at some of the worst times of their lives and we offer them a different story about debt, one that doesn’t rely on shame and guilt to collect.

We lead with empathy. We listen. We respect who they are, and where they come from. This is as important, if not more, as giving them the payment plan they were looking for.

What you do here, at our company, makes a difference to those people. We are entering 2019 with almost [redacted] consumers in our system. We [redacted] in a single year.

Everyone’s noticing. We even inspire traditional collectors to do things differently, from using our language to using new technologies.

Most of all, our customers are noticing—like [redacted], who wrote to us, saying “Your emails and messages were kind, understanding and indicative of the truth—which is that I’m a good person who fell on hard times, and was too scared, afraid and stuck to know what to do… You never gave up on me, and so when I could, I did everything I could to create a way to work with you to pay back my debt.”

We are writing this story together as we go, rewriting pain into hope and despair into inspiration.

Which leads me to you. To all of us.

I started having dinners this year because I was trying to figure out what makes a company great to work at after the first hundred people have joined—what attracts the type of people that makes work enjoyable.

This question led me back to empathy and our ability to listen to one another. To weave our stories together as we build something great.

All of us: those who had to grow up fast and those who took time to figure things out. Those who had sheltered lives and those who had to literally fight for their lives.

Those that faced rejection. Those that struggled to be accepted. Those who overcame adversity. Those who have failed, and yet still get up. And those who won. All of us.

Look around you. This is your team. This is your company. This is your story. What you choose to add to it may forever alter its nature.

The recent graduates thinking about their career paths. The seasoned veterans who joined to make us even greater. Everyone in between. It does take a village to build what we’ve built.

Now, I don’t know what the future holds. I think 2019 is going to be a great year. I think we’re going to continue to face adversity and win, again. I think we are going to expand our reach like never before.

No matter what we do, it’s going to be a great story. I can’t wait to hear your part of it as the year unfolds.

To where we’ve been, and where we’re going—together! Cheers to 2019.

What happens after you’re hot

I love learning from other CEOs, but it’s difficult. Most conversations with CEOs are disingenuous because they are always posturing, and contrary to what I used to think, honesty doesn’t always help them open up. Especially not in the distributed corporate that is Silicon Valley. Whenever I do get some authentic interactions, my favourite type of CEOs are those who founded and run companies that used to be hot, but aren’t anymore.

Note, not failed companies. Most of them run companies that are bigger and/or have higher top line than TrueAccord or ones that were acquired. They used to be hot because they operated in a hot segment and VCs were throwing money at them and their competitors. They raised a bunch because you eat when you’re fed. Some of them are running 300-500 person organizations with deputies with incredible pedigrees and well oiled sales machines. By all accounts they should be on the top of the world.

Like everything else, though, it’s not always the case. Interests aren’t as aligned once you’re not hot. Reasonable acquisitions are rejected, sometimes undermined, because investors think they can get a bigger number to put on Twitter. Founder comp doesn’t get updated as fast as their needs. The push for growth creates unprofitable behemoths that have to continue to raise from an ever shrinking pool of organizations (each managing more money than ever, for sure) and getting profitable seems like an ever elusive dream. Struggles for control are common and if founders are not, say, geographically removed or otherwise protected they face imminent risks to their role. Most of all, they are tired. The 5 year mark is a real thing, and yet these founders don’t feel like they can rest; sometimes they don’t even feel like they can hire a second in command because they fear a VC implant that will undermine them.

I learn a lot from these founders because they are grizzled veterans by now. They’ve seen a lot. Most of them will continue to succeed and the majority of their days and weeks are on a high note. It just serves as a constant reminder for me that there is life after being hot and the strings you agreed to when you thought this wave will never break create a pretty mean entanglement. It’s one of the most crucial issues we don’t spend time thinking about early on that comes back to haunt us later.