I spent the majority of my 25th year of being alive in 2021. A year of Yes’s. A year of unexpected surprises created by increasing the surface area in which luck can stick. And by transitive property, I intentionally opened myself up for exploration. Some might call them distractions. For me, they were the scenic route. A route that may or may not change the final destination. But I will only know the robust or flawed nature of my initial destination if I take Highway 101.
And quite expectedly, I said “Yes” to projects that would push me past my “limits.” In foresight, scary. Might I say, fearfully challenging, plagued with self-doubt. Yet, just one question kept pushing me forward while I sought the comfort of being a blanket burrito.
What if this were easy?
Synonymously, if I were the world’s leading expert on this topic, how would I approach this? Not only tactically, but also emotionally. Or oftentimes, lack thereof.
In hindsight, I usually realize I had handicapped myself with training wheels all these years. I am nevertheless proud to say I would have surprised the me on the cusp of 25 years young more than twice given this past year.
This year will continue to be a year of Yes. And, I will undoubtedly continue to surprise myself. Shock will continue to be my currency of growth. Not from others, but by myself.
I have spent a lot of time thinking whether annual goals are the best forms of motivation for a myopic human like myself. I have given into short-term gratification more often than I can count. This past year, the near-term “Yes” is closely correlated with fried chicken and hojicha. Sorry, they are my Kryptonite. It’s unfortunate that my mom dipped me into the Styx holding both rather than just one of my heels.
If I hadn’t gone through my birthday resolutions of my 25th year I wouldn’t be here today. And it wouldn’t have led to the v26.0 software update as it stands.
My latest software update
As such, by 27, I will have spent at least twice a week getting into the flow state – inspired and courtesy of my colleague Edgar Brown. What is the flow state? As one of my good buddies describes it, “the flow state is a state you enter when you feel the most alive and creative. You’re 100% immersed in the activity you’re doing. It’s a completely egoless state. You don’t care – and frankly, forget – about what other people say. Yet after going through the flow state, your ego strengthens and becomes part of your identity.”
Of a similar vein, creativity is also very much a luxury I would like to indulge in more, shackled only by my minor, but noticeable discomfort with idle time. An unfortunate byproduct of my occupational hazard, otherwise known as “hustle porn” as Alexis Ohanian of Reddit fame so elegantly describes it. In year 26, I will have found profound solace in cold silence, where one would find comfort in the absence of speech, as opposed to hot silence – silence that is awkward. And in these weekly cold silent flow states, I hope to better identify my own signal amidst the noise.
In closing
Before this essay sounds any more like a wannabe doctorate dissertation, I hope that in writing this for the public eye, I can better hold myself accountable for my goals.
I hope there will be no consecutive offenders to my resolution list. Since it’ll mean that after a year, I still haven’t broken into the habit I want to build for myself. And it’s that delta between promise and reality that’ll have me going back to the drawing board again. And if you ever see that there are, this blog will keep me honest for failing on my promise to myself. While I imagine there will be repeat offenders by product of growth-inspired oscillations, I am at the end of the day a constant work-in-progress.
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I’m a big fan of self-deprecating humor, but this isn’t one of those moments. Rather it’s a learning moment. While the above question is a lagging indicator for personal growth, it nevertheless deserves to be measured. After all, as the great Peter Drucker would say, you cannot manage what you cannot measure.
The timeframe of evaluation
Why a month? Why not a week? Or not a year?
In the business world, there’s a concept called the rule of 72. Effectively, 72 divided by the growth rate is the time it takes to double. For instance, if you’re growing 30% month-over-month, 72 divided by 30 is 2.4. So, if you’re growing revenue at 30% every month, you’re going to double your revenue in roughly two and a half months.
It is equally as analogous for personal growth.
time it takes to shock yourself = 72 / rate of learning
Let’s say you’re a first-time founder, and you only knew 10 things about how to start a business. But every day, you learn one more thing – via podcasts, articles, blogs, classes, you name it. Give or take a 10% growth rate. You will double your knowledge in about a week. Hopefully enough to shock the you from a week prior. Or take another example, many self-help books ask you to commit to getting 1% better every day. Assuming you consistently do that, you would have doubled your experience in about 2.5 months.
That goes to say, the faster you want to grow, the shorter the timeframe should be for you to look back and reflect on your “stupidity.” For me, it is in my nature to be hungry for knowledge, and I really love learning about things I thought I knew and what I didn’t know. For now, as learning is a top priority for me, a month sounds like a reasonable timeframe to shock myself. I also use the term “stupidity” lightly and with notes of self-deprecating love.
The shock factor
But how do you measure personal growth? Something rather intangible. It isn’t a number like revenue or user acquisition. Some people might have a set of resolutions or goals that is tangible and quantitative – say read two books a month or exercise an hour four days a week. Great goals, but they are often based on the assumption that movement is progress. The two aren’t mutually exclusive, but neither are they synonymous. The former – movement – lacks retrospection.
There were, are, and will be days, weeks, and months, we may just be busy. Our schedule is packed. We’re a duck paddling furiously underwater. And we’re gasping for air. And while our body and mind are exhausted, our body and mind have not expanded. I know I’m not alone when I think to myself, “Wow, I did a lot, but I still feel like I’m not moving anywhere.”
Our brains are unfortunately also poor predictors of the future. We use past progress as indicators of future progress. But while history often rhymes, it does not repeat. Our predictions end up being guesstimates at best.
So I look into the past. I measure my own personal growth emotionally – by shock, very similar to how Tim Urban measures progress of the human race (which I included at the end of a previous essay). I don’t know what the future will hold and neither will I make many predictions of what the future will hold for me. If I knew, I’d have made a fortune on the stock market already, in startups, or on crypto already. What I can commit to is my relentless pursuit of taking risks, making mistakes, and trying things that scare the bejesus out of me. Since only by making new mistakes will I grow as a person. What I am equipped with now can be mapped out by the scar tissue I’ve accumulated.
Coming full circle, what’ll make me realize and appreciate my mistakes and failures more is knowing that as a greenhorn I was laughably stupid.
But if, in retrospect, David from a month ago sounds like quite the sensible person, my growth will have gone from exponential to linear. Or worse, flatlined.
For founders
And now that I’m thinking aloud – or rather, writing aloud (which may deserve its indictment into the #unfiltered series), this might be a great line of questions to ask founders as well.
As a founder, what was the last dumb thing you did? When was that?
And before that, what was the second most recent dumb thing you did?
And the third most recent?
There’s the commonly repeated saying in the venture world. Investors invest in lines, not dots. Two’s a line. Three’s a curve. I want to see how fast you’ve been growing and learning.
Why such a question?
If we’re in it for the long run, I wanna assess how candid and self-aware you are. Pitch meetings often depict a portrait of perfection. But founders, like all humans, aren’t perfect. For that matter, neither are investors.
Venture capital is impatient capital. We demand aggressive timelines, and honestly, quite toxic to most people in the world. Given that, if you’re going to learn how to hustle after investors invest, you’re going to have a tough time convincing investors. But if the hustle is already in your DNA, that bias to action lends much better to the venture model.
The DGQ series is a series dedicated to my process of question discovery and execution. When curiosity is the why, DGQ is the how. It’s an inside scoop of what goes on in my noggin’. My hope is that it offers some illumination to you, my readers, so you can tackle the world and build relationships with my best tools at your disposal. It also happens to stand for damn good questions, or dumb and garbled questions. I’ll let you decide which it falls under.
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Straight off the bat, you might have realized that the 10th issue of the DGQ series – damn good questions – starts off with a non-question. And it is intentional by design. I often waste a number of calories constructing the perfect question. And in many ways, I get very, very close to what I deem as perfection. Exhibit A, B, and C.
But over the course of constructing the perfect question and its subsequent research, I often uncover the answer I am seeking… before I even ask it to the intended designee. I don’t mean for the odd question here and there amidst spontaneous conversation. But the predestined ones to be asked in:
Fireside chats
Intro conversations
Coffee chats with individuals where I’m punching above my weight class
Podcast interviews
Social experiments
First dates (possibly self-incriminating)
Accompanied by the excuse of creating conversation, I ask it despite the since-acquired knowledge. Sometimes to the wonder and amazement of the recipient, but more often than not to the boredom of myself. While the words that flutter out of my mouth may sound like a question, it ends up merely being a statement rearranged on a NY Times crossword puzzle.
In reframing questions for myself, I realized… If I knew all the answers to the questions I would ask, that’d make for quite a boring life. While boredom only surfaced a minority of the time, it occurred noticeably enough times. If I had a mirror to myself every time I asked a question, I imagine I would find myself asking the ones I have the answers to already with a furrowed brow.
Last year, in the relentless pursuit of being a better host for structured conversations, I over-optimized for shock and delightful surprise. Shock became my unfortunate currency for my personal delight. Rather than enlightenment, education, and inspiration. In the construction of the “perfect question,” while protecting my downside – in terms of embarrassment, I capped my upside.
So, this essay is a reminder to myself. Ask dumb questions. It’s okay. It’s only by reinventing yourself again and again through the ashes of unintentional ignorance can you rise like a phoenix.
I’m reminded of a quote by quite a contrarian philosopher, Karl Popper, but nevertheless quite appropriate here. “Good tests kill flawed theories; we remain alive to guess again.”
If you’re reading this essay, be prepared for a lot more dumb questions from me. Dumb, not garbled. Dumb and simple. I’ll continue to do my homework before conversations. But if I’ve found the answer already, I’m going to keep myself accountable to either find new questions or cancel the meeting. Cheers to the motif of exploration! And I’ll see you where I cannot foresee.
The DGQ series is a series dedicated to my process of question discovery and execution. When curiosity is the why, DGQ is the how. It’s an inside scoop of what goes on in my noggin’. My hope is that it offers some illumination to you, my readers, so you can tackle the world and build relationships with my best tools at your disposal. It also happens to stand for damn good questions, or dumb and garbled questions. I’ll let you decide which it falls under.
Subscribe to more of my shenaniganery. Warning: Not all of it will be worth the subscription. But hey, it’s free. But even if you don’t, you can always come back at your own pace.
Back in my sophomore year of college, I was running to be the vice president of a business organization. Part of the requirement to run as one was to shadow at least two executives from previous generations who held the same role. Brownie points if you shadowed the broader executive team as well. The goal was to better prepare yourself by increasing the context you had about a new role.
I checked off those boxes with flying colors. In fact I ended up talking to more than 20 other executives and other key campus constituents we would be interfacing with. Along the way, I shared what I would do, not do, and do differently compared to previous roles. I also told them how I would forever change the organization and its impact on campus and students. Frankly, I felt like I was a on a roll. I was on top of the world.
Yet one winter night (it’s always the winter nights that get you), when I was on my haughty high horse, one person stopped me in my tracks. With one simple question. “What is your selfish motivation?”
“I’m going to change…”
“No, David… what is your selfish motivation?“
Flash-forward
Last week, one of my favorite hustlers reached out to me. She was planning to start a newsletter soon and wanted some advice from a fellow writer. After a few exchanges asynchronously, it became apparent that her biggest obstacle was keeping to a schedule. If you’re a frequenter here, you’ll have noticed I’ve already lost all semblance of a schedule other than publishing weekly. Some weeks I publish on Mondays. Others on Tuesdays. Some weeks see two essays. Others only one. But I have yet to lose my streak of publishing weekly. But I digress.
There’s a large graveyard filled with content creators who post ten or less times. Off the cuff, I dare say 90%. Prior to this blog, two of my other blogs were also no stranger to the obituary.
So, I posed the same question that stumped me all those years back. What is your selfish motivation?
What is your selfish motivation?
Most people, especially in the realm of entrepreneurship, job interviews, politics, and PR stunts, share their selfless motivations. Everyone’s a Samaritan. While there is some truth to it, everyone needs a really good selfish motivation.
On your best days, if your project is doing really well and you’re absolutely crushing it, your selfless motivation will be what you tell the latest press release, your cousins over the holidays – the story you pitch to others. The story you also tell yourself to give your job meaning. But on your worst days, when you want to give up, your selfish motivation is what’ll keep you going. When you’re at your worst, you won’t want to care for others. You care about yourself. What’ll keep you sane? If your selfish North Star isn’t strong enough, it’s easy to give up.
You need both. Your selfless motivation will help you reach for the stars. Your selfish motivation will prevent you from hitting rock bottom.
For example, for this blog, my selfless motivations are:
Democratizing access to resources and education to help people move the world’s economy forward,
Empowering founders to not fall through the same potholes I or other founders fell through – to make new mistakes not old, and
Empowering and inspiring others to live more enriching lives.
It’s what I tell others. My lofty goal that’ll make writing this blog meaningful to me.
On the other hand, my selfish motivations are:
I write to think. My thoughts are so much clearer on paper than if I just speak them. If I don’t write things down, I’m a mess.
I forget things easily. Short term memory loss. And my blog is a way for me to catalogue my own learnings.
I feel much more comfortable being vulnerable with strangers than with friends. So my blog helps me relieve much of my stress and anxiety.
I am neither as good as people say I am nor as bad as people say I am. This blog keeps me honest.
In closing
That same winter night was the day of the winter equinox. I don’t mean to dramatize my little anecdote, but I nevertheless I do find it provides a little flavor to the story.
“No, David… what is your selfish motivation?”
“I don’t follow.”
“I ask every officer candidate this question. There will be days that you will hate the job more than you will love it. And I need to know if you have it in you to weather those days.”
I don’t remember what I told him that night. I don’t think it was a particularly honest answer. Or maybe I was honest. But it wasn’t enough. I didn’t get his vote of confidence, but I did enough legwork to get the approval of others.
In the end, I got the position. And he was right. Times got tough. There were days I hated the job. And on those days, in particular, I didn’t do anything remotely close to “changing the organization and its impact on campus.”
#unfiltered is a series where I share my raw thoughts and unfiltered commentary about anything and everything. It’s not designed to go down smoothly like the best cup of cappuccino you’ve ever had (although here‘s where I found mine), more like the lonely coffee bean still struggling to find its identity (which also may one day find its way into a more thesis-driven blogpost). Who knows? The possibilities are endless.
Stay up to date with the weekly cup of cognitive adventures inside venture capital and startups, as well as cataloging the history of tomorrow through the bookmarks of yesterday!
Seemingly, everyone these days – from Twitter to podcasts to blogposts (including mine) – talk about buying and investing in startups. What are best practices for investment theses? How do I pick the best companies to invest in? Conversely, how do I get picked or get allocation into hot startups? But people rarely seem to be talking about selling positions. So, if you know me, I hit up two of the smartest people I know – one early-stage, the other growth-stage. Both of whom might be familiar faces on this blog. So I asked them:
How do you think about selling a position? How much does DPI matter for your investors?
The below insights include minor edits for clarity.
The notice that you’ve all seen a million times
None of this is investment advice. This content is for informational purposes only, and should not be relied upon as legal, business, investment, or tax advice. Please consult your own adviser before making any investments.
Shawn Merani (Parade Ventures)
Shawn was instrumental in my early career growth in venture. When I met him years ago, he was still running Flight Ventures, where he wrote early checks into Dollar Shave Club and Cruise Automation and was one of the first syndicates on AngelList. There he led a network-based model of syndicate leads, which I’ve heard been described by others as a “venture partner program on steroids.” Now he’s the solo GP at Parade Ventures, a seed stage venture fund investing in enterprise-themed companies.
“I would preface all of this with the fact we have never fully exited a position before a traditional liquidity event, but more so, have managed our position given the duration of our ownership and to generate returns for our LPs and manage risk.
“We talk to founders all the time, and foster a relationship that grows. When I was writing check sizes for 1-5% of ownership, my engagement then is very different from my engagement with founders now, where we take more concentrated bets.
“When it comes to selling, it’s about influence and information. The larger our ownership, the more information we have access to. And if a company is doing well, we don’t think about selling. In fact, it’s the exact opposite; we buy more. If things are working, we take our pro rata. In some cases, we take more than my ownership target. And founders are willing since we’ve been helping them from the beginning. We know when there’s going to be a 3-4x uptick every 12-18 months. Compounding is powerful.
“Our investors back the fund because they trust us. They don’t talk to the founders as often as we do. They trust our decision when we say we should buy more or keep our shares. There are two ways to talk about DPI:
1. Making money for your current investors, and 2. Telling the story.
“Selling is really a case-by-case scenario, and it really depends on my relationship with the founder. All the equity in which I sold so far has been before Parade. But if we know the company is doing well, we buy more. There are also holding periods to consider under QSBS, which has huge tax benefits.”
For those that are unfamiliar with the terminology, DPI means distributions to paid-in capital. Effectively, how much money you actually return to your investors versus “paper returns”. QSBS, or qualified small business stock, tax exemption allows investors in qualified businesses to avoid 100% of the capital gains tax incurred if they hold their stock for more than 5 years.
Ratan Singh (Fort Ross Ventures)
I posed the same question to someone I’ve been a huge fan of the day I met him – Ratan Singh, Partner at Fort Ross Ventures. He’s an investor in some of the most recognizable businesses today, including the likes of Rescale and Clearcover, as well as holds board seats at Blueshift and Ridecell. You may remember Ratan from a previous essay about speed as a competitive advantage for investors. And you’ll likely see him a lot more on this blog. He summed it up best in our chat when he said, “There are two reasons why an investor needs to care about DPI: time horizon and fund strategy.” Both of which are variables, not constants, between early- and growth-stage investments.
“The true metric at the end of the day is DPI. DPI is turning in money to your investors. And there are two reasons why an investor needs to care about DPI: time horizon and fund strategy.
“Let’s start with time horizon. For a seed stage fund, as you get close to the end of your fund cycle, that’s when DPI matters. What type of vintage is the fund in? In 2021, it’s going to be the 2010 and 2011 funds.
“For the majority of the time, you want to ride your winners. At the end of your time horizon, ask for a one- to two-year extension. Usually LPs want more money or their shares distributed. They’ve already waited 10 years. Two more won’t make a difference, especially if you have some big fund returners in the making.
“For fund strategy, did you meet the objectives for your LPs already? If you have, and you want to sell some of your winnable deals in your portfolio to help raise your Fund II because those are the same LPs that would re-up in your next fund, then you might consider selling.
“The worst reason to sell is that you want to take the wins you currently have since you think the market is overvalued. ‘I’m at the peak.’ Or ‘I want to take chips off the table because there’s something bad that will happen, but that is very hard to predict.’
“There were a bunch of funds at the beginning of this year that sold their entire positions. They were desperate to lock in a win. They sold because they thought the market was at the top. And, they were wrong. I’m against it. Selling early doesn’t fully realize the strategy you have put forth. For us, at the growth stage, we shoot for 48 months to an exit. If it takes longer, did we underwrite it wrong? But even if it does, the case may be that the company is growing a little slower than expected.
“At the early stage, all funds will say 2 to 3x cash-on-cash in the LP presentation. Most funds return 1 to 1.5x, on average, with most funds total DPI at 1.2 to 1.5x, which barely returns the fund. Before your time horizon, everyone likes to cite unrealized gains and mark ups because TVPI’s all they have.
“DPI matters most for funds in the top quartile – the top returners, funds with more than $500 million, or nowadays, $1 billion mega-funds. For the bottom majority of funds, early DPI won’t matter. They would be limiting their upside.
Author’s Note: Notice that 65% of financings lost money for their investors. Source: Correlation Ventures
“The new interesting commentary is that – where the job is getting harder – a lot of crossover funds are making binary bets. Finding the one deal that’s the next Salesforce – the next industry-defining company. And putting a lot of capital to find that one or two companies. Tiger and Coatue, still maintain that 10-12% IRR, but spend a lot to find the company that’ll be the next Databricks. Every generation has their industry-defining companies. And, they’re willing to lose it all to find that one.
“You usually don’t see this at the growth stage. It’s bad for innovation. Everyone is trying to find investments that are scaling. 1000 investments in the past year became unicorns. And there are 3000+ unicorns. Yet, the top five to seven companies are still undercapitalized.”
In closing
As we closed the selling part of our conversation, Ratan shared a great quote from an Economist article:
“Flush with cash amid a deal frenzy, what is the industry to do? One option would be to liquidate portfolios, that is, to sell more assets than it buys, in effect trying to cash in some chips when prices are high. As yet, however, this does not seem to be happening. Take the figures for three big managers, Blackstone, Carlyle and KKR. So far this year for every $1 of assets, in aggregate, that they have sold, they have bought $1.30. Although Carlyle is being more cautious than the other two firms, these figures indicate that the industry overall thinks the good times will roll on.”
In fairness, as the saying goes, the high risk, high reward. Data does show that the funds with the greatest track records have more deals that lose money than those make them more money than they invested.
Interestingly enough, there’s also a huge differential between the world’s most valuable and most funded startups. According to Founder Collective, “the most valuable companies raised half as much capital and produced nearly 4X the value!” All of which echo Ratan’s words. “The top five to seven companies are still undercapitalized.”
The public often looks towards invested capital as a proxy of startup performance. But the data suggests that isn’t the case. In the words of the team at Founder Collective, “capital has no insights.” One of my favorite lines from Ashmeet Sidana of Engineering Capitalframes it is still: “A company’s success makes a VC’s reputation; a VC’s success does not make a company’s reputation.”
But when DPI boils down to selling on multiples at the end of the day, I often reference Samir Kaji‘s tweet on the return hurdles expected of different stages of investors. As you might guess, the return expectations of each type of fund varies based on fund strategy.
Since it was asked, return hurdles for LPs are for different types of funds:
Nano-Fund (<$20MM)- 5-7X+ Traditional Seed Fund – 3-5X+ Series A: 3X+ Growth – 2-2.5X+ Crossover/late growth – IRR driven – 10-12%+
As all things in the world, exiting is just as nuanced and complicated as entering. Hopefully, the above insights will be another set of tools for your toolkit.
If this essay has inspired more questions, here are some further reading materials, courtesy of Ratan:
Thank you Shawn and Ratan for reading over early drafts.
Stay up to date with the weekly cup of cognitive adventures inside venture capital and startups, as well as cataloging the history of tomorrow through the bookmarks of yesterday!
