Category: Life

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Losing is Winning w/ Jeep Kline, General Partner at Translational Partners and Venture Partner at MrPink VC

“I was a swimmer since I was very young and, you know, I never won. I never won.”

You’re probably assuming this is how the opening scene of a movie about a future world-champion swimmer begins. The beginning of the world’s most amazing underdog story. And you’re wrong. Well, not completely wrong. This isn’t a story about the world’s next biggest Olympic swimmer. Although it might be well-timed with the Tokyo Olympics around the corner. This… is a story, in my humble opinion, of one of the world’s next biggest venture capitalists. A story of a young Bangkok girl who became a VC from learning how to lose.

I’ve never been the smartest kid on the block. At least in the IQ department. So I make it my mission to hang out with folks who are smarter and more driven than I am. Jeep is no exception. I met her last month. And as if going from a World Bank economist to Intel leadership to startup advisor and investor to lecturing at UC Berkeley’s Haas School of Business was not enough, in our first conversation, she shared an incredible set of contrarian insights. So earlier this month, I had to jump into another conversation with her.

Something about going long

If you’re a long-time fan of this blog, you know one of my favorite Bezos-isms is, “If everything you do needs to work on a three-year time horizon, then you’re competing against a lot of people. But if you’re willing to invest on a seven-year time horizon, you’re now competing against a fraction of those people, because very few companies are willing to do that.”

Jeep is that same kind of superhuman.

“I started as a competitive swimmer since I was seven, and I swam so much and so hard, like three kilometers a day. It’s just a lot of practicing. I never even won a medal. And I kept doing it. And that was hard.

“Because other kids they got medals in different styles. So I learned early on in life what losing actually meant. And I think that’s very important because a lot of smart kids, they never learn how to fail early on in their life. And it’s kind of like a winner’s curse because you know, when they’re the best at everything, since they were young, throughout college , once they come out, and they realize that the world is hard, they are doing things or want to pursue a career that their parents cannot help them, they become risk averse. Meaning they don’t want to try new things.

“So I never won in [any] swimming competitions. Until I got into college. When I got into college, at the time I already quit swimming. I quit in high school. So, I didn’t swim competitively anymore since I didn’t have time to practice. I picked up other activities like piano, which I came to love. In college, one of my friends asked me, ‘Hey Jeep, why don’t you come back to the competition?’ And she knew I never won. We were in the same race at so many events. And I said, ‘I don’t know. Let me try.’ So I tried again.

“So I got back to the practice routine. Adjust my strokes a little bit. And then I won. I got gold and silver medals for a college swimming competition. And I was like, ‘This is a joke. How could I win?’

I never won ever, like for ten some years. And I joke with my friend, ‘You know why, because everybody else quit!’ They quit about the same age in high school.

I just went for it. And that was one of the moments in life that I realized that it’s all about grit. You do what you love and you don’t quit. There will be a moment that you win.”

The analogy extends further

“Failure is the mother of success.” It’s an ancient Chinese proverb that my mom used to tell me again and again growing up. Every time I “failed.” Scored low on a test. Embarrassed myself on stage for a school musical. Placed fourth, right off the podium for multiple competitions. It’s funny thinking about it in retrospect since she turned out to be the exact antithesis of a stereotypical Asian parent. And I love it!

Take tbh, an app where you send your friends anonymous compliments, as an example. It launched back in late 2017. 73 days after its launch, it went from zero to 2.5 million daily active users, which subsequently led to a $100M acquisition by Facebook. To many, tbh looked like an overnight success. But it wasn’t. Nikita Bier, co-founder of tbh, and his team spent seven years with 15 failed products before they arrived at tbh. And with each iteration, they learned and compounded their lessons from their previous failure.

Clubhouse’s Paul Davison and Rohan Seth is another example of a seemingly overnight success. From Talkshow to Highlight (acq. Pinterest), the pair went through at least nine failed apps before they arrive at Clubhouse – last reported to have passed 10 million users. And valued at $4 billion. Their lead investor, Andrew Chen at a16z, spent eight years getting to know Paul.

One of my junior swim teammates told me years ago when I was at my prime, “David, I don’t think I can beat you as you are now. But I promise you I will beat you one day, even if that means after you retire.” At the time, I dismissed it as just another snarky comment, which athletes are prone to make from time to time. But now that I’m a bit wiser than I was in high school, I find that same comment incredibly prescient. It just so happened that a few years ago, we raced each other again. Both of us had long exited the competitive arena, and he won.

In closing

Near the end of our conversation, Jeep cited something Soichiro Honda, the namesake for the Honda Motor Company, once said. “Success can be achieved only through repeated failure and introspection. In fact, success represents 1% of your work which results only from the 99% that is called failure. Many people dream of success. To me success can be achieved only through repeated failure and introspection. In fact, success represents 1% of your work which results only from the 99% that is called failure.”

She further elaborated, “For people who grew up in a society, in a culture that does not easily accept failure, I want them to know that it’s actually not a bad thing to try and hear rejection. But along the way, they have to make sure that they learn.

“It’s the same thing when I teach UC-Berkeley students. I told my brilliant graduate MBA students that there is, for me – and it’s true – there is no stupid question. If other people think your question is stupid, but at least you learn. If you learn, there’s no stupid question. Do not ask good questions, if it means you don’t learn anything.”

In a way, I’m reminded of a peculiar quote by Karl Popper, “Good tests kill flawed theories; we remain alive to guess again.” While Popper was known to be quite the contrarian thinker of his day, the same seems to hold for questions. Good questions kill flawed theories. We remain alive to learn again. After all, speaking from personal experience, I often find myself burning the midnight oil to ask the perfect question. But in the pursuit of asking the “perfect question”, I’ve forgone the adventures I would have had to arrive at the answer I thought I sought.

We learn when we fail. We learn, to one day succeed. The greatest are the greatest because they have a higher propensity to fail than the average person. As the great Winston Churchill said, “Success consists of going from failure to failure without loss of enthusiasm.”

And as Jeep said, “Winning is actually losing, but learning along the way.”

Thanks Jeep for helping with earlier draft edits!

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!

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#unfiltered #49 Doing Boring Things

I recently tuned back into Elizabeth Gilbert‘s, author of Eat Pray Love, 2016 interview with On Being. It also happens to be one of my favorite interviews about creativity and curiosity. I found myself pausing, rewinding, playing, pausing, rewinding, then playing again one line again and again.

“Everything that is interesting is 90 percent boring.”

She further elaborates, “And I think one of the reasons that both my sister and I ended up being authors is because we were taught how to do boring things for a long time. And I think that’s really important, because here is one of the grand misconceptions about creativity, and when people dream of quitting their boring job so that they can have a creative life, one of the risks of great disappointment is the realization that, ‘Oh, this is also a boring job a lot of the time.’ It’s certainly tedious. It’s a boring job I would rather do than any other boring job. It’s the most interesting boring job I’ve ever had. […]

“And we are in a culture that’s addicted to the good part, the exciting part, the fun part, the reward. But every single thing that I think is fascinating is mostly boring.”

She takes it from a perspective that everything has its boring parts. So you have to learn to accept what’s boring along with what’s interesting. I think she’s absolutely right. But while I was tuning in again to that same interview – those exact same lines – for who knows, the 20th time, I thought… maybe there’s something more. Forgive my brain for having the tendency to jump into numbers and equations. That for some reason, one of the primary ways I understand life has to be through some quantitative lens. I thought, what if we take it from an expected value perspective.

Expected value = 10% * (Utility of interesting) + 90% * (Utility of boring)

The utility we gain from boring, often times, is of course, well… boring. Some utility value less than zero. Or in other words, more often than not, we lose utility. On the other hand, the utility we gain from interesting is positive. So, then it becomes a balancing act between what’s interesting and what’s boring. That in the decision to pursue something interesting, there might be the below subconscious calculus:

10% * (Utility of interesting) > 90% * (Utility of boring)

To shine a different light, is the interesting part interesting enough that it outweighs all of the boring parts combined, and ideally, more?

Take, for instance, writing for me. I love writing. It’s meditative. Thought-provoking. And it’s challenging. But at the same time, editing, filling in the keywords for SEO, finding a cover image, all the way to writing when I don’t feel inspired, but I do so to commit to a weekly routine is tedious.

Similarly, Gilbert uses the example of raising children. “Raising children — I’m not a mother, but I’m a stepmother, I’m a grandmother, I’m a godmother, I’m an aunt, and I know that 90 percent of — especially, being with very small children…

“Incredibly — it’s hard. And then there’s the moment where you realize, ‘Oh, my God, this is a spark of creation that I’m working with, and this is magic, and this is life seen through new eyes.’ And creativity is the same, where 90 percent of the work is quite tedious. And if you can stick through those parts — not rush through the experiences of life that have the most possibility of transforming you, but to stay with it until the moment of transformation comes and then through that, to the other side — then, very interesting things will start to happen within very boring frameworks.”

For many of this blog’s readers, it’s starting a business. Whether you’re changing the world or the people you care the most about, that mission is what drives you. That’s what makes it interesting. And every time you hit a milestone –

  • Your first user outside of your friends and family,
  • Rated #1 on Product Hunt,
  • One of your customers writes a handwritten love letter to you and your team about how you saved her family,
  • You finally have enough revenue to pay your team members who’ve been working with you for free for two years,
  • $1M in ARR,
  • 50,000 users,
  • You reach profitability,
  • Your dream investor says yes,
  • A Fortune 500 business offers you 9 figures for your business,
  • And the list goes on and on.

… it’s exciting! But let’s be honest, not every day will be sunshine and rainbows. 90% of your days will be tedious. Some percent of those days or weeks might even suck! 90% of your days will be you working to find and reach that 10%. And if that 10% is just that amazing, it’ll make that 90% worth it.

In a sense, it’s like the Pareto Principle. 80% of your utility will come from 20% of your achievements. That star 20% – your customer love letters, providing employment for all your team members during the tough days of COVID.

In an analogous mental model, in everything that is boring, there might be a small percentage that makes it interesting. Now I’m really curious as to what I might discover here.

Photo by Sophie Dale on Unsplash

#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!

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#unfiltered #47 Two Ears, One Mouth

I’ve been this self-proclaimed “few screws loose” for a while. Rationally, what I do, it doesn’t always make sense. But in their post-mortems, my adventures often turn out to be invaluable lessons of growth. The month of March was no exception.

It all started with someone who reached out to tell me I didn’t know what I was talking about. And subsequently, that I should stop writing. It certainly wasn’t the first, but definitely the most direct one to date. I saw where he was coming from. I’d never personally taken an idea from inception to scale, much less exit. On the venture side, I’m a scout, and well that means, I don’t personally invest in many deals, if at all.

At the same time, it’s not like I didn’t expect such a comment. As a content creator, even an amateur one, I’m putting myself out there. And in doing so, I’m opening myself up to criticism. This, well, just the first of many more to come. In fact, I’ve alluded to it before. As Jeff Bezos once said, “If you can’t tolerate critics, don’t do anything new or interesting.” Now before I make myself seem smarter than I actually am by appealing to authority, I’m not. Simply, I believe their few words profoundly summarize what might take me an essay to convey.

In writing weekly content, and subsequently, doing my homework to write the best I can on any given topic, I give off the illusion that I’m smarter than I actually am. And every once in a while, I fall victim to using esoteric phrases. Like I could say the same statement above as: I give off the illusion that I have a larger repository of information than I have. But I do so because sometimes I really, really like the phrasing I come up with or come across. It’s more of a personal fulfillment than a misleading façade.

Like I’ve mentioned before… I write to think. An unrefined concept that through the process of writing, I come to a more robust understanding. But let’s be honest, it’s not all up and to the right. It’s a rollercoaster. I love how Packy McCormick, who authors Not Boring, described his own writing process.

After all, mine doesn’t fall too far from the apple tree. But I digress. That one message led me down a path to jump on phone calls with other folks who found my content or myself to be disagreeable. Some more perverse and antagonistic than others. Five people total. Four who had just fallen on a series of unfortunate events. Two of which just wanted to be heard. The other two seeking advice and feedback. And last who seemed to find power through berating me for 20 straight minutes. One other who has yet to respond.

Why? I’ve known for a while that I’m terrible at having tough conversations. Some of my friends might know from personal experience. A number of other founders who’ve been on the receiving end of my inability to say “No”. Especially when I first began in venture.

I thought that maybe – just maybe – if I go to the more extreme end of the spectrum, I might get better at giving others the respect and time they deserve. While I’m not sure if the five conversations have helped me mature, they made me a better listener.

When two broke down during our short call, what they needed wasn’t advice or feedback or someone to tell them everything was going to be alright. They just wanted someone to listen. Just listen. Given my personality, I was constantly tempted to respond. To give advice. And to ease the “awkward silence.” But it wasn’t awkward at all. My inability to recognize the sanctity of silence made it awkward.

For the two other founders, they sought feedback since no investor they chatted with so far gave them any constructive ones. I couldn’t promise connections nor capital. All I could promise was my own radical candor. And they were free to do with it as they saw fit. So I spent 10-15 minutes with each, listening to their pitch. No questions in between. My thoughts only chronicled on a 5×8 notepad in front of me. And only after they’d concluded, I would share my thoughts.

The last one, frankly, there was nothing I could do or say that would have changed his mind. And rather than trying to, which would only reinforce his belief, the best I could do was stay silent and occasionally smile.

I’m reminded once again of a line someone I deeply respect once told me, “The quality of communication is measured by not how much comes out of your mouth, but by how much reaches the other person’s ear.” And another, “We have two ears and one mouth; we should use them in that proportion.”

And I am still working on it. I have a long road ahead, but I’m positive if I keep the above lessons in mind, I’ll go further faster.

Photo by Jonathan Sanchez on Unsplash

#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!

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The Fastest Way to Test a Startup Idea

Last week, I reconnected with Shuo, founding partner of IOVC, and one of the first people I reached out to when I began my career in venture. That day, I asked her a pretty stupid question, “Given the rise of solo capitalists, rolling funds, equity crowdfunding, and the democratization of capital, do you think now’s a good time to raise a fund?“

She replied, “I don’t know. It could be a good time now. It could be a good time five years from now. If you’re set on sticking around for the long term, it really doesn’t matter. ‘Cause whether it’s a good time or not, you’re going to be raising a fund regardless. So just do it.”

Not gonna lie, it was serious wake-up call. While I was initially looking for her perspective on the changing venture market, what she said was right. If you’re set on doing something, say starting a fund or a business, the “right time” to start is irrelevant. The world around us changes so much so frequently. We only know when’s the right time in hindsight. So focus on what we can control. Which is starting and doing.

So as an aspiring founder, which idea do you start with? And how do you test it?

Starting a business is scary

Starting a business is scary for most people. And well, the government doesn’t always make it easy to do so. Just like what WordPress and Squarespace did for websites, you have companies, like Stripe (and their Stripe Atlas), Square, Shopify, Kickstarter, just to name a few, streamlining the whole process for entrepreneurship. For an aspiring entrepreneur, not only is it taking that leap of faith, before you begin, there’s a slew of things you have to worry about:

  • Figure out how to incorporate your business (C-corp, LLC, or S-corp),
  • Assign directors and officers to your business,
  • Buy the stock, so you actually own your stock,
  • Learn to file your taxes (multiple forms, including your 83(b) election),
  • When you raise funding, get a 409A valuation,
  • And that’s just the beginning.

Of course for the above, do consult with your professional lawyer and accountant. It’s two of the few startup expenses I really recommend not skimping on. While the purpose of this post isn’t designed to solve all the documents you’ll have to go through in starting a business, hopefully, this will help with one front – taking that leap of faith. Specifically finding early validation for your idea.

The superpower of writing

I stumbled on Max Nussenbaum‘s, who’s leading On Deck‘s Writing Fellowship, provocative tweetstorm:

He boils it down to, effectively, four reasons:

  1. You can test the validity of an idea faster by writing than with code.
  2. Writing well trains your ability to sell.
  3. Publishing regularly gets you comfortable with shipping early and often.
    • To which he cited one of my favorite Reid-isms: “If you’re not embarrassed by the first version of your product, you’ve launched too late.” – Reid Hoffman
  4. Writing is easier for most people to pick up than coding.

There’s a “5th reason” as well, but I’ll let you uncover that yourself. Talk about creativity. Side note. Max created one of my favorite personal websites to date.

Much like Max, I write to think. And in sharing my raw thoughts outside of the world of startups via the #unfiltered series, often far from perfect, as well as my take in this fast-changing universe, my cadence of writing twice a week has forced my brain to be accustomed to the velocity of growth. In the sense, I better be learning and fact-checking my growth week over week. Over time, I’ve developed my own mental model of finding idea and content catalysts.

Of course, if you know me, I just had to reach out. Particularly around the third point in his tweetstorm.

What mental models or practices did he use to help him wrestle with his embarrassment from his own writing? And he replied with two loci that provided so much more context:

  1. “Reading other writers who open up way more than I do, which makes what I’m doing feel easy by comparison. Two favorites I’d recommend are Haley Nahman and Ava from Bookbear Express.”
    • And another I binged for an hour last night. Talk about counterintuitive lessons. My favorites so far are Stephen’s 12th and 16th issue. You might not agree with everything, but he really does challenge your thinking. Thank you Max for the rec.
  2. “Publicly committing to writing weekly and finding that the embarrassment of publishing was outweighed by the embarrassment I’d feel if I missed a week. Also, like all things, I’ve found it very much gets easier with practice.”

Why not both?

Then again, why not both? I go back to Guillaume‘s, founder of lemlist, recent LinkedIn post. He says:

And he’s completely right. If I were to analogize…

Writer = common
Writer + coder = uncommon
And… writer + coder + X = holy grail

You don’t have to own one unique skill. And in this day in age, there aren’t that many individually unique skills out there that haven’t been ‘discovered’ yet. Rather than search for the singularly unique skill that you can acquire, I’d place a larger bet on a combination of skill sets that can make you unique. As a founder, test your ideas early with writing. If there’s evidence of it sticking, build it with code. And it doesn’t just to be just writing and code, whatever set of skills you can acquire more quickly and deeper with the circumstances and experiences you have. Even better if there’s a positive flywheel effect between your skills.

In closing

There’s a Chinese proverb that goes something along the lines of, “The best time to plant a tree was 20 years ago. The second best time is now.” And it circles back to Reid’s quote that Max cited, “If you’re not embarrassed by the first version of your product, you’ve launched too late.” As an entrepreneur, or as an emerging fund manager, it’s a given you’re going to mess things up. But all the time fretting around at the starting line is time better spent stumbling and standing back up.

I followed up with Shuo after our call, and she elaborated a bit more, “In all honesty, you can argue now is a good time (a lot of capital available for good managers) or a bad time (valuations are frothy), but in the long-term, these variables even out and it’s how you add value as an investor that’s most important.”

If I were to liken that same insight to aspiring entrepreneurs… Yes, investors look for timing. And yes, understanding the timing of the market is important, when you’re launching a product that will revolutionize the way we live in a fundamental way. But that boils down to which idea you plan to pursue. But if you’re looking to be a founder, it’s finding that overlap in the 3-way Venn diagram between (1) what the market needs and (2) where you, as the founder, can provide the most value. And (3) where your competitors are not maximizing their potential in.

For many aspiring founders, that first step can be practicing the art of writing. Writing for clarity. Writing to practice selling. Learning to ship early and embracing imperfection. Frankly, it’s also something I need to get better at myself.

Though I’m not a religious fellow, I’m reminded of a quote from Jesus’ teaching, which I first found in Jerry Colonna’s book, Reboot. “If you bring forth what is in you, what is in you will save you. If you do not bring forth what is in you, what is in you will destroy you.” Writing is that act of bringing forth what is in you. And well, if you’re like me, I often find my greatest regrets come from a lack of action rather than in taking action.

If you’re looking for a place to start…

Top photo by Cathryn Lavery on Unsplash

Thank you Shuo and Max for reviewing early drafts of this essay.

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!

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#unfiltered #46 Soon May the Investor Fund

Not long ago, there was this massive TikTok craze on sea shanties. And while I don’t have a TikTok account, the ripple effects have reached me as well. What started as a shower thought after a founder recommended I gamify my advice to founders fundraising, well… turned into this. To the tune of Soon May the Wellerman Come:

There once was a team that put to sea
The name of that team was Friends ‘N Me
The winds blew hard, but growth tipped up
O’, burn that midnight oil (huh)

Soon may the investor fund
To bring us money and help and some
One day, when the term sheet’s done
We’ll take the dough to grow

She had not been two years from start
When push became the pull we sought
The founder called all hands and wrought
The product to scale now (huh)

Soon may the investor fund
To bring us money and help and some
One day, when the term sheet’s done
We’ll take the dough to grow

The servers’ now a right real mess
We had to call the AWS
They had us pay for more bandwidth
But that’s okay with us (huh)

Soon may the investor fund
To bring us money and help and some
One day, when the term sheet’s done
We’ll take the dough to grow

We’ve tripled our growth last year, oh yus
With dollar retention as one cause
When we were asked what it was
We said ’twas one twenty (huh)

Soon may the investor fund
To bring us money and help and some
One day, when the term sheet’s done
We’ll take the dough to grow

We’ve ten cust’mers that five of which
Are referenceable you’ll find on pitch
That one of which is kinda rich
They’re paying hundy K (huh)

Soon may the investor fund
To bring us money and help and some
One day, when the term sheet’s done
We’ll take the dough to grow

Photo by Katherine McCormack on Unsplash

#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!

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#unfiltered #45 Two Questions that Force Me to Face My Own Ego

“Ego is about who is right. Truth is about what is right.” – Mike Maples Jr.

I distinctly remember reading this soundbite on page 64 years ago in Tim Ferriss‘ then-new book, Tribe of Mentors. With the recent string of world events over the past few months, I’m reminded once again of this line. It’s strange to think that our most available mentors come in the form of books. Yet, every time I realize this fact, I seem to stumble upon another Eureka moment.

I was a passively-rebellious kid growing up. Though not often, there were times I would swing left when my parents said right. High school, on the other hand, did not make it any easier for my parents. As if puberty was not enough, in high school speech and debate, I learned to play the devil’s advocate on nearly everything. Frankly, it didn’t matter if they were right or not. And in more times than I am willing to admit, I found myself in trouble for not heeding my parents’ advice. Physically. But more often, emotionally. I was just emotionally antagonistic to my own wellbeing. Something I was unwilling to admit for quite a while.

We live in an era where many debates have spiraled down the path of: “If I’m right, you’re wrong” or “If I’m wrong, you’re right.” But most issues – and I might even be as bold as to say, all issues – are not nearly as binary. Debates have become arguments rather than conversations. We fail to realize great constructive conversations are never zero sum. Socratic discussions lead to nuance and a spectrum of colors that are dimensionally vast. Many of us have chosen what is the easiest for us to swallow in that moment. That soundbites resonate more than 3-hour debate. We’ve turned our attention towards ephemeral efficiency rather than robust literacy. At the same time, we need to balance complexity with simplicity. Sometimes, matters aren’t as complicated as we make them out to be. Other times, they are and possibly more so.

Someone I deeply respect once told me. “The quality of your words are determined not by what comes out of your mouth, but by how much reaches another person’s ears.” Oddly enough, we fail to use our senses in the proportions nature gave to us. Two ears. One mouth. Yet, we often act as if we have two mouths and one ear. And I am not immune to that fact.

Over the years, due to the accumulation of scar tissue, I’ve learned to abstract who from what they are saying. When I hear advice, opinions or even facts from someone I am emotionally aloof or antagonistic with, I ask myself, if someone I deeply respect said the exact same thing, would I still be as averse as I am now?

If still so, why? What are my underlying assumptions to oppose such a claim?

Similarly, if someone I deeply respect (even blindly so) says something I agree with too quickly, would this piece of advice hold the same gravitas if it came from someone with little social capital?

Of course, the above is much easier when my inner weather isn’t hormonally turbulent. But when it is, I breathe deeply thrice. And ask myself the question again. And if still turbulent, then I repeat until I’m ready to face my own ego.

Photo by Krissana Porto on Unsplash

#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!

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#unfiltered #44 Le Raison d’Etre for Social Experiments

social experiment, curiosity

Over the past few weeks, a number of people have independently asked me, “What do you hope to accomplish with your social experiments?” And “What are you hoping to solve through your social experiments?”

Usually when people ask, I say things like, “Helping the world feel a little smaller, closer, and a whole lot more meaningful.” Or “Helping strangers become friends in minutes.” While it’s all true, I came to that conclusion after I started. Yet, the real reason I started was simply out of curiosity. I didn’t have an end goal in mind. I didn’t have a hypothesis I was trying to prove. Frankly, I just had a yearning knowing I’d find answers, but not knowing what kind of answers I would find.

For the longest time, I felt pressured to give a reason. Particularly, one that was results-oriented. In a world, where outcomes speak for themselves, I felt that a genesis starting from pure open-ended curiosity wasn’t enough. The reasons I gave were less for others, but more for myself. This self-inflicted feeling of inadequacy. Infinitesimally small, but still lurking around.

Walter Isaacson‘s recent interview with Tim Ferriss led me to introspect once again. Known for his incredibly intricate studies on the lives of Steve Jobs, Leonardo Da Vinci, Benjamin Franklin, just to name a few, and most recently, Jennifer Doudna, he said:

“Be curious about everything. All walks of life. Arts, and sciences, technology, and the humanities. That’s what Steve Jobs did. He had one foot in the arts, another foot in technology, and he did not make a distinction between those two. That’s what Leonardo’s Vitruvian Man is about. It’s a work of art, and it’s a work of science, and he didn’t make a distinction between those two. And for Jennifer Doudna, she doesn’t make a great distinction between the life sciences and the humanities. And by being curious about all things, she’s about to see the patterns in nature.”

It’s funny that it took a message from someone else for it to resonate, no matter how many times I’ve told myself the same message. While I can’t even begin to compare my selfish curiosity to the greats of Doudna, Jobs or Da Vinci, but like them, I start from a state of open inquiry. I, a humble traveler, merely enjoy the meandering adventure my curiosity leads me on. As my French high school teacher used to say to us all the time, “Bon voyage!”

Photo by Joseph Rosales on Unsplash

#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!

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#unfiltered #43 Do I Like to Write?

writing, how to start a blog

An investor I had recently been put in touch with asked me this past Monday if I like to write. I thought it was a peculiar question at first. But it strangely kept gnawing at me as the week went on. While I can’t say for certain that it was that investor’s intention, it became a forcing function for me to reflect on my motivations.

If you’ll believe it, I used to hate writing. With a capital H. I used to dread when a teacher or professor would assign us essay prompts for homework. Many of my college and high school friends can probably attest to that fact. More so, I was the world’s best procrastinator. Ok, “best” might be overselling myself. But I had a track record for deferring my 10-/20-page essay until the night before it’s due. It was the antithesis of fun. I knew exactly what my professors sought. All I had to do was put the puzzle pieces together. Frankly, writing was a necessity to survive my academic career, not one I’d seek out as a passion.

It wasn’t always that way. In elementary school, I loved writing poetry. An exploration of my inner creativity, unrestrained by the educator’s whip. I also took part in school poetry competitions. As time went on, writing lost its sparkle, between book reports and persuasive essays.

Before this one, I started two other blogs. Neither of which lasted past three months. Both of which I started back in college. Looking back no one asked me to start a blog, much less three blogs. But looking back, I attribute each time I started a blog to the professors I had. Particularly by their rare ability to make learning fun and contagious. It was much less the content of each class, but rather, the fact that we graduated each class armed not with just answers, but with two other faculties I found indispensable over the years:

  • The ability to ask nuanced questions,
  • And the ability to find answers and questions to answer those questions.

My senior year in college I had a third catalyst for writing. As you guessed, also inspired by my professor for a class I didn’t have many expectations for when I signed up, despite hearing glowing reviews from my friends. That year I began writing in journals every day. There is no catch. There are no cheat days. We just had to ideate at least once every day. No matter how long or how short it took, once a day keeps the demons away. At the same time, outside of a promise of commitment, there were no rules. There were no rubrics. No one would grade us on how and what we wrote. Full, uncontrolled creative liberty.

It took me about three months. Slowly, but surely, the spark returned. Over time, journaling evolved into blogging. The best part is I don’t even know what the next stage of my Pokemon evolution will look like. I won’t go in depth here on how I journal these days, but if you’re curious…

Over the past year, I’ve had an increasing number of friends and readers reach out to me and ask me how writing comes so easily to me. It sure didn’t in the larger arch of my life. And not, it doesn’t… not always at least. Some days it takes longer than others. But just like how I wake up and exercise first thing in the morning, journaling is a muscle I am training every day, if not multiple times a day. Whether it’s in my journal or on my Google Keep app or on a Notion page.

That said, I think I’m far less coherent as a speaker than as a writer. I’ve had friends and mentors tell me over the years in conversation, “David, you’re not making any sense.” Unfortunately, in more occasions than I would like, I have a feeling of cognitive dissonance when speaking, which I am actively working to mend. After all, I can only hide behind the veil of asynchronicity for so long. Ironically, I’ve been engaging in more and deeper synchronous conversations than asynchronous over the course of the pandemic.

Luckily, I also haven’t gotten writer’s block yet ever since I began this blog. But there have been certain weeks where I’ve been frustrated at the quality of my journal entries. Enough so, that it never makes it onto this blog. So it goes to say, I never run out of ideas; I just sometimes run out of ideas I think are nuanced enough to share. After all, it’s why I started the #unfiltered series. George Orwell once said, “If people cannot write well, they cannot think well. And if they cannot think well, others will do their thinking for them.”

In closing

I never started this blog with the intention of tracking viewership growth. But I’d by lying if I said I wasn’t grateful and elated to see the reception of some of my essays. On days when readers reach out and say thank you, I really believe the sky’s the limit. When I reach out to people I look up to and they mention in our conversation that they enjoy the content I write, I struggle to contain my smile.

My swim coach once asked me semi-rhetorically, “David, why d’ya like to swim?” To which he followed up and said, “You like to swim because you’ve won.” While in terms of numbers I’m still far from “winning”, this modest scope of reception so far only compounds upon my creative joy.

When I pursue any endeavor in my life, I always ask myself: Are there skills, relationships, and/or enjoyment I build that transcend the pure outcome of this endeavor? (Or two cousins of this question here and here.) For this blog, yes. And it boils down to three reasons:

  1. I write to think. It’s a process of self-discovery. On the flip side of the same token, it’s to prevent my prefrontal cortex from atrophying.
  2. Creative joy. There’s something just so satisfying when a blank canvas turns into a cohesive illustration of my mind’s entropy.
  3. And knowing that, no matter how miniscule, it’s inflected a handful of people’s lives upwards. That, and knowing that every so often, somebody out there will smile as they read this.

Photo by Aaron Burden on Unsplash

#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!

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Should you get an MBA as a founder?

library, should i get an mba, entrepreneurship

Over the years, the silver screen sure has mythologized the dropout founder – from Steve Jobs to Bill Gates to Mark Zuckerberg. While students who choose to dropout will continue to wow the world, and I believe it (otherwise, I wouldn’t be working with Danielle and Mike at 1517 Fund, if I didn’t), reality isn’t nearly as black and white. A Quora user requested my answer to this question recently. Why do business schools not make world class entrepreneurs? It presumed that great academic institutions, mainly B-schools, were no longer capable of minting world-class founders. Admittedly, it’s neither the first, nor will it be the last time I see or hear of it.

The MBA grads

I met a Fortune 100 executive last year who said that it was because of her Wharton MBA, that she catapulted her career in artificial intelligence and machine learning. Specifically, it was because of the research she did with her professor, Adam Grant, that led to opportunities and introductions down the road. On the same token, David Rogier of MasterClass met his first investor at the Stanford GSB. In fact, it was his business professor who wrote that first check, just under $500K.

Business schools are amazing institutions of learning, but admittedly most people go for the network and the brand. On the same note, I would never go as far as to say that business schools don’t mint world-class entrepreneurs. If we’re going by pure valuation, there’s a study that found a quarter of 2019’s top 50 highest valued startups had MBAs as founders.

And here are a few more founder names among many, not even including some of the most recognizable CEO names, like Satya Nadella (Microsoft), Tim Cook (Apple) and more.

  • Tony Xu and Evan Moore of Doordash
  • Michael Bloomberg of Bloomberg
  • Steve Hafner of Kayak
  • Aneel Bhusri and Dave Duffield of Workday
  • Jeremy Stoppelman of Yelp
  • Mark Pincus of Zynga

Having grit and having a business degree don’t have to be mutually exclusive. I work with founders who come from all manners of educational backgrounds: high school dropouts, college dropouts, BA/BSs, MBAs, PhDs, MDs, JDs, home schooled, and self-taught. At the end of the day, it doesn’t matter what kind of education someone has. What matters is what they do with the education.

What an Ivy League dean once told me

Back when I toured the US to decide which school to SIR (statement of intent to register) to, I met the dean of an Ivy League school. I thought he was going to spend our 20 minutes trying to convince me to come to his school. But he didn’t. Instead he said, “David, it doesn’t matter which school you choose to go to. While I would be honored to have you attend ours, what matters is what you do while you’re in school. You could choose to just take classes here or you could go to a CC, but choose to be a member of 5 clubs, 3 of which you take leadership positions in. And if I were to look at you in four years, I’d be prouder of the latter person you chose to become.”

Capping the risks you could take

When I graduated from Berkeley, I also came out with a certificate in entrepreneurship and technology. While I still believe to this day that no class can really teach one to be entrepreneurial, I learned quite a bit of the institutionalization around entrepreneurship – what exists in the ecosystem, some of the risks involved and how to hedge those bets. Yet, my greatest lessons on entrepreneurship didn’t came from a textbook. But rather, the risks I took outside the classroom. Because each time I made one, I internalized it.

To do great things, you have to first dream big and act on those big dreams. By definition, big dreams entail high degrees of risk. High risk, high reward. And with risk, you’ll make mistakes. So one of the rules I live by is that I will force myself to make mistakes – many mistakes – more than I can count. But my goal is to make each mistake at most once. Jeff Bezos once said, “If you can’t tolerate critics, don’t do anything new or interesting.”

Equally so, there’s a joke that Andy Rachleff, founder of Wealthfront and Benchmark, shares with the class he teaches at the Stanford GSB. While it pertains to VCs, I find it analogous to founders and mistakes, “What do you call a venture capitalist who’s never lost money on an investment?”

“Unemployed.”

But, what institutionalized academia does help you with is provide you a platform to make mistakes. Without the downside. Capped downsides, but it’s up to you, the student, to realize what could be the uncapped upside. Last month I chatted with a VC, who works at a top 10 firm. Our conversation eventually spiraled into her MBA at the Stanford GSB. There she took on projects that put her on the streets talking and building products for potential customers. Her professors taught her the hustle, but it was up to her to apply her learnings. While she chose the VC path after, her experience led her to become a trusted advisor to founders while she was still in school.

In closing

Similarly, world-class entrepreneurs aren’t decided by which school they go to, or lack thereof, but how and why they choose to spend the days, weeks, and years of the short time they have on Earth. And where they practice their entrepreneurial traits.

I would be pretentious to say that you should get an MBA if you want to be founder. Or that you should dropout if you want to be one. If we’re to look at the cards on the table, MBAs are expensive. A $200K investment. Almost half of what might be your pre-seed round. But I can’t tell you if it’s a great investment or not, nor should I. For an MBA, or for that matter, any higher education. I pose the two extremes – MBA (or a PhD too) and a dropout – as I presume most of our calculi’ fall somewhere in-between. Instead, I can merely pair with you with the variables and possible parameters that may be helpful towards your decision. So, I’ll pose a question: Are there rewards you seek in the process rather than just in the outcome (of an MBA/higher education)?

In other words, are there skills, relationships, gratitude, entertainment, and/or peace of mind you build in the journey that transcend the outcome of your decision on the future of your education?

Photo by Patrick Robert Doyle on Unsplash

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!

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Don’t Drop the Ball After the First Shot – Following Up Cold Emails

If you’re a regular on this blog, you’re probably no stranger to my essays on cold emails – whether it’s my cold outreach mental model or lessons from replying to spam emails or how I write longer cold emails as opposed to shorter. Yet, I recently realized I’ve shared my thoughts on the pre-game and the game itself, but I’ve yet to write on the post-game. So this essay is dedicated to exactly that. What do you do after you send that initial cold email?

The short answer: If you want to stand out, always follow up. To quote my good friend, Christen on her TikTok, where she shares amazing soundbites of career advice and networking.

The longer answer

I met a founder once who emailed an executive at Disney every business day for almost one year, minus ten days. The caveat is at the top of every daily email he wrote, “If you want me to stop, I will.” Almost a year after he began, the executive took the meeting. And Disney is now one of this startup’s biggest customers.

I met another founder a few years ago, who retweeted tweets from a Forbes’ Midas 100 VC every week for three months, while including his own constructive commentary each time. So, when this founder began his fundraise three months later, this VC set up a meeting with that founder within two hours of the cold email, first thanking the founder for his thoughts over the past few months.

Garry Tan and Apoorva Mehta have both shared this story publicly. Apoorva, founder of Instacart, back in 2012, wanted to apply to Y Combinator. Unfortunately, he was applying two months late. So he reached out to all the YC alum he knew to get intros to the YC partners. He just needed one to be interested. But after every single one said no, Garry, then a partner at YC, wrote: “You could submit a late application, but it will be nearly impossible to get you in now.”

For Apoorva, that meant “it was possible.” He sent an application and a video in, but Garry responded with another “no” several days later. But instead of pushing with another email and another application, Apoorva decided to send Garry a 6-pack of beer delivered by Instacart. So that Garry could try out the product firsthand. 21st Amendment’s Back in Black, to be specific. In the end, without any precedent, Instacart was accepted. And the rest is history.

So, what is the common thread here?

As my friend once told me, “It’s not hard to be persistent. Most people can easily be. But most people aren’t persistent AND considerate.” Persistence is keeping your promises to yourself. Being considerate is respecting and keeping your promises to others – explicit and implicit. Explicitly, if you say you’re going to do something, do it. Implicitly, understand the social context, their schedule, their cognitive load. One of the lines I always add at the bottom (or sometimes at the top) of my cold outreaches:

“If you’re too busy, I completely understand.”

Or the variation I shared in my cold email “template”:

“I know you get a hundred emails a day, and if you don’t have any time to respond, I completely understand.”

To take that one step further, sometimes you’re reasonably confident they won’t have time to respond. Big life or career events may make it hard for them to respond, like:

  • New baby/paternity/maternity leave
  • New publication
  • Recently did a (podcast) interview
  • Released some version of viral content (i.e. YouTube video, TikTok, Clubhouse, Twitter, etc.)
  • Founder raising a new round
  • Upcoming product launch they’re a key player in
  • VC raising a new fund
  • Shit hit the fan
  • Anything else the press is actively writing about

If that is your assumption, I add in one more line:

“If you don’t have time to respond, I’ll follow up one week [or whatever other timeframe] from today.”

And once you’ve said it, do it. To save you the time to draft up a follow up email a week later, a hack I use is to just write that follow up email as soon as you send the first email. Then schedule it to send a week from the day you sent the first. Make sure that each follow-up email isn’t the exact same. Show updates on what you learned, found, or thought about, as well as additional value to the person you’re reaching out to. While this hack is the bare minimum of what you can do to follow up, this should never be the ceiling. 9 out of 10 times I find myself going back, cancelling the send, updating the email with my learnings, then re-scheduling it.

Follow up at least twice after you send the initial cold email. But be understanding of their circumstances. And of course, never overstay your welcome. Understand the difference between a soft “no” and a hard “no”. In the circumstances of a soft “no”, recognize the variables that led to it. And reach back out when those variables are not in play, or to your best guess.

In closing

I met a brilliant founder years ago who, at the time, scaled his business to 100 employees, and he told me something that resonates with me till this day. “You can only learn from experience, but it doesn’t necessarily have to be yours.” Though I learned of his saying a few years after, it summarizes why I started my 6-year at least once a week cold outreach streak. To learn vicariously through others’ experiences. And if that was and is the impetus, it’d be a shame if I didn’t see it through to the best of my ability. ‘Cause if I was gonna give up after just sending one email, why start?

As Ron Swanson once said, “Never half-ass two things; whole-ass one thing.” So if you’re gonna start with the first email, you might as well send the next two. If the first shot doesn’t swish, catch the rebound and shoot again. Persistence. And ideally rebound thoughtfully.

Photo by William Topa on Unsplash

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