This isn’t a new question. I’m sure most of you have heard of this question before. But recently, I realized how powerful this question is when you need an answer or answers for this time of the year.
You guessed it. It’s the season of giving. And holy frick, finding gifts to give during Secret Santa and to your loved ones is often much more of a dilemma than it should be. I know I’m not alone in that sentiment since the above question transpired as a result of the shared camaraderie my friends and I felt in choosing gifts. The more gifts you are expected to give, the more anxiety you exponentially feel.
So without giving away too much and to keep the element of surprise, I found this question immensely useful.
If your house were burning down right now, minus your phone and laptop, if you could only carry just one more item, what would be that item you would save from the fire?
You can always increase the quantity of items someone can save from the fire.
Some people give practical answers, which ends up being a rough proxy that they will appreciate more functional gifts.
Some people give answers with sentimental value. These individuals will enjoy gifts that have a backstory to them. The gifts don’t have to be expensive, but they carry significant value if they:
They come from the heart. Or…
They cost you an arm and a leg to get. Your gifts were the product of a journey where you went above and beyond.
Either way, the gift needs to be accompanied with a heartfelt card.
Hopefully, if you’re stuck without ideas this holiday season, this short blogpost might offer some inspiration.
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.
As you know from this blog, I spend a lot of time writing from my head. Startup, this. Venture capital, that. But comparatively little from my heart. This blog, Cup of Zhou, is not going to be the next Stratechery. Or a 20-minute VC. Or a Not Boring. For each one of the afore-mentioned, I have a tremendous respect for. Ben at Stratechery, Harry at 20VC, and Packy at Not Boring all do something I can not. And they do it really, really well. This blog is just nothing more and nothing less than me. It’s not a publicity stunt. And sure as hell, a terrible branding platform. In fact, I’m willing to shoot myself in the foot again and again, as long as I can be true to myself here.
Four people last week reached out to me. Two founders. A friend from college. And another from high school. They told me that life was tough. Things weren’t working out. And rejection sucks. They’re right. Whether your goal is to change the world or have an enduring marriage, life is rarely easy. You’re going to get that left hook more often than you’d like. And rejection fucking sucks. To those who said it gets better over time, it doesn’t. At least for me. You may get desensitized to each blow, but there will always be jabs and uppercuts that will sting more than the rest.
While I find comfort in writing my thoughts here, most people don’t have a safe space to be candid. As COVID is slowing its pace, at least in the Bay where we’ve reached a level of herd immunity, a while back, I decided to start a new series of in-person dinners where people will feel safe being vulnerable.
In hopes that this will help those hosting such circles outside of the Bay, here’s what I learned.
With both online and offline, I played around with a combination of social experiments and social observations. The former, I would lead and guide conversation through centering exercises and intentional “stage time.” The latter of which I would bring everyone together, but spend less time steering the conversation. Both were structured and all attendees were informed of the ground rules, theme for the night, and homework, oftentimes a personal story to share with the group, necessary to bring thoughtful conversation to the table.
Eyes are the windows to the soul
In group settings, shyer attendees would allocate more of their eye contact when speaking towards people they were familiar with. And given that I bring strangers (to each other) together, shyer attendees make eye contact with me – the one person they do know – more often than with others. But as they find more comfort in their fellow attendees, they slowly allocate more attention to them.
I often found that the best remedy for this was in two parts:
Make eye contact with them while speaking,
Mention their name intentionally a few more times than I do with other more confident guests, and
Once they sustain eye contact with you when you’re openly speaking to them, redirect their attention to another attendee by then mentioning an adjacent topic that the other attendee brought up, and making eye contact with the other attendee.
Give people a path to retreat for them to stay.
Vulnerability and true authenticity is tough. For some people, it’s easier to do with strangers. For others, it’s much harder to open up to people who you’ve never met before. Nevertheless, I like to err on the side of caution. Even after I send out personal invites to each person via DM or text, where I give them the context of what they’re about to embark on, I still preface the email that includes all the details, specifically the ground rules of authenticity, open-mindedness, and candor, with: Are you willing to be vulnerable?
Then right below that question:
If your answer is “no“, I completely understand, and I won’t force you to come. Just let me know if you’re opting out, as I need an updated headcount for our reservation.
But if it’s “yes“, … [read on]
And in that same email, everyone is BCC’ed. The guest list on the calendar invite is also not visible to each guest.
Guests have multiple opportunities to opt-out. And they should if they’re uncomfortable with the setting, since the people who do come are the ones who will truly find value in having a vulnerability circle.
Being time sensitive doesn’t matter
I initially thought that people really cared that each session was going to last 2 hours and everyone only had 15 minutes of “stage time”. And the implicit promise that I would be cognizant of everyone’s times mattered. And while it still does to a reasonable degree, it hasn’t seemed to be a priority for folks especially in my social observations. The only times it does matter are:
The energy in the conversation is waning and people start noticing hot silence, as opposed to cold silence.
Borrowing the terminology of “hot” and “cold” from Jerry Colonna, hot silence is what most people deem as awkward silence. A silence where people intentionally seek to fill the void. On the other hand, cold silence is where people are comfortable with or seek comfort in the absence of speech. Either that it lets ideas and thoughts ruminate or there is a space for tranquility that one might find calming.
Someone has another commitment right after the event.
People who don’t enjoy the conversations, topics, or people.
Luckily, this last one has yet to happen since I curate each person who comes to these circles myself. But, given how many more circles I will host in the future, it’s something I’m aware might happen.
Conversely, many of the ongoing conversations former attendees are still having with each other have come from circles that have gone overtime. This is something I’ll continue to have my pulse on to see if anything deviates from this thesis.
In closing
These vulnerability circles are only the first of many more to come. And of course, future circles will come in different variations. The ones I have planned for early next year thematically revolve around the absence and the dulling of particular senses, in order to heighten other ones. And you betcha I’ll have much more to write about then.
#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!
For years, I’ve given myself the lazy excuse. “I’m an introvert, so it’s okay if I’m bad at group conversations.” Empirically, the larger the group, the more I regress to being a wallflower. I was much more proficient at one-on-one and small group conversations than larger conversations. To be exact, to quote my friend, I was the “most David-like” in groups of 4 or less. I began to struggle in groups of 5-8. 9+ were the bane of my existence, at least on the front of contributing meaningfully to the conversation. And for the longest time, I never thought to look into that notion more, other than put myself in situations with larger groups and force myself to talk. I merely attributed my inadequacy to introversion and shyness.
For luck to stick
Yet, luck always has a way of finding its way to you. And if you’re curious, the best way to increase the surface area for luck to stick comes in two parts:
Say yes meaningfully to more things.
Have a bias to action.
What does saying yes meaningfully mean? This isn’t about saying yes to everyone and everything. This also isn’t about saying no to almost everything. I used to have a mantra, which I took from De Niro’s character in Ronin, “Whenever there is any doubt, there is no doubt.” Effectively, if I ever find myself in doubt, I shouldn’t hesitate to say no. But if you’re like me, I have the ability to second-guess everything. What can I say? I have a wild imagination. Eventually, that mantra led me to say no to almost everything in pre-2021. Subsequently, I cannot even imagine the number of opportunities I let slip through my fingers.
Saying yes meaningfully, on the other hand, meant my “yes” framework only needed to rely on a yes to at least one of two questions:
Does this make me jump out of my chair right now?
If I pursue this project, will I obtain skills, knowledge and relationships that will transcend the outcome of the project itself?
On the other hand, having a bias to action merely means to follow through with whatever you say you will do. Actions should always follow your words. If you say it, mean it.
Responsibility and accountability
A few months ago, a few of yes’s started to snowball. I began hosting fireside chats and panels, with an audience many times larger than the upper limit of my extroversion.
Unlike when I’m interviewing people for this blog or for a small podcast project I’m doing on the side with a friend, fireside chats are live by design. And because of that fact, backspace is not my friend.
Yet, despite it all, I didn’t succumb to the pressures of “extroversion”. Paired with a comparatively lower level of apprehension, I was and am more often looking forward to rising to the occasion in these conversations than in any other large group conversations. One might argue fireside chats and panel discussions are still small group conversations. It is… until you try to include audience participation during these conversations.
But why? Why did it feel more natural to host these fireside chats, panels, and group social experiments yet still struggle in ordinary group conversations?
I thrive on responsibility. The greater my sense of responsibility, the better I do in a conversation. Often times, the roles of each participant in a conversation aren’t clear. Who’s asking the questions? Who’s moderating the conversation? Should there even be someone leading the conversation? If things turn awkward, is it any one person’s fault?
At large, we also see this in group conversations – online and offline. On average, the larger the group, the less each individual feels accountable to contribute meaningfully to the group.
In 1:1 conversations, the responsibility for a great conversation is split 50-50. There’s nowhere to hide. In 3-person groups, it’s 33-33-33. In 4, it’s 25-25-25-25. And so on. At some point, often starting around the 4-person mark, people start feeling that the conversation can go on with or without them. In these fireside chats, it was very clear that it was host and guest’s responsibility for a great conversation. So despite boasting a larger headcount, the responsibility was largely split 50-50.
The lessons
While my goal is to be competitive in the top 0.1% of hosts, it’d be crass to say I started with any level of proficiency. Merely a passion. A passion to learn and help guests be their best selves. And when both guests and the audience walk away from the conversation, both will have felt that was an hour well-spent. As the theme of this blog is building in public, I’d love to share the start of this journey with you.
As such, here are a few lessons I’ve internalized so far:
Do your homework. My goal is always to know my guest(s) better than they know themselves at that point in time – specifically, in my rabbit hole research, finding things that warrant the “How did you know that” response from my guest. I start this process 4 weeks in advance. On average, I spend about 5-10 hours of research per guest, covering:
Socials,
Content they’ve created (if any),
PR/media articles,
Podcasts/interviews, and
Cross-referencing with mutual friends. Most of the above I find across 7-10 pages of Google search results.
Prep for more questions than you need. Usually for every half hour, you need 2-3 good questions, but always prepare 6-7 questions for every half hour as backup.
Some guests prefer having the questions beforehand to prepare; some don’t. I always ask when I invite them and respond accordingly. If they want to see the questions, I send that 1-2 weeks before the date of via email and updating the calendar invite with those questions.
Before every interview, in lieu of the pre-chat, I ask two questions. The goal is for your interview to just be another fireside chat, but that it’ll be THE fireside chat.
Fast forward 2-3 years from now, what would make our fireside chat one of the most, if not the most, memorable fireside chat you would have done up to that point? I don’t need an answer immediately, and you can also tell me right before our conversation next week, but would love to use that as a north star for our talk.
If there are any, what do you not want to talk about? Or are sick of talking about?
You’re running a two-sided marketplace. You want it to be THE fireside chat for both your guest AND your audience.
If, for some reason, I can’t find any good stories or anecdotes that need more context, I ask the guest a third question. Do you have one or two stories that when you told them privately or publicly earned you a standing ovation? Subsequently, rather than the full story, I ask for just a small teaser phrase that would help me transition the conversation into it. And well, I like to be surprised too.
If, for some reason, I can’t think of any specific/good questions, I ask the guest in the “pre-chat”:
What’s a question you wish I asked you that’s not in the itinerary? or,
What’s a question you wish you were asked, but never asked in previous interviews?
Make the conversation personal and relatable. Be sure to mix in both advice and story anecdotes. Despite all my fireside chats so far circle around a highly technical subject, what provides color is how much the guest is also a human with a life outside of work. Anecdotally, the more relatable a conversation is for the audience, the more likely they are to:
Internalize the advice, or at least consider it, and
Reach out and connect with the guest.
Depth matters more than breadth. It’s better to ask follow-up questions than to hit every question on your agenda. When sharing my questions with guests, I often tell them that “We’ll get to one, two, or some of the questions below, but I imagine we’ll run out of time before we run out of topics.” Anyone can replicate the same superficial questions as you ask. And if you only stick to the initial prompts, your interview will be like 95% of other interviews your guests would have been on. For your audience, while the strategic context is nice, the best takeaways are tactical – most of which are uncovered by follow-up questions.
Know your audience. In order for the advice and anecdotes to be useful and/or entertaining to them, you have to tailor your jokes, stories, and lessons to what would resonate with them the most. You need to find language-audience fit. Equally so, I found it extremely useful to also share the rough audience demographic with the guest beforehand.
Guests who bring their A-game are more important than guests who are just A-listers. While not mutually exclusive, there are too many potential guests out there that won’t take your interview seriously. Either via a lack of prep or treating it as a schedule write-off. It’ll be temporally relevant, but easily forgettable. And when that’s the case, neither the guest nor the audience takes much away from the conversation. Subsequently, it ends up being a waste of time for everything. When I started off, I only invited people that I knew reasonably well.
In closing
In all fairness, this essay could have been two separate pieces. But on a Friday morning watching the sun rise above the horizon with a cup of hot Pu’er tea next to me, it just felt right to share both my takeaways hosting conversations and the backstory that led me to be in that situation. Cheers. And I hope my takeaways supercharge you as much as they’ve supercharged me.
#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!
For those who spend a meaningful amount of time giving and helping others, that won’t be the first time you’ve heard that question. And it won’t be the last. On the flip side, if you’ve ever asked anyone else for help or advice, you most likely asked the above question yourself.
While it originates from positive intent, that question often falls short in execution.
It is an open search query. Most busy people are context switching all the time. While we love spending time helping others, we don’t often think about how others can help us. I was asked this a total of 6 times over the past week, and I didn’t have an immediate answer for any of them.
We force ourselves to think of an answer that isn’t always what we actually need.
It shows you haven’t done your homework. I admit some people are more explicit with things they need help with publicly than others. Sometimes you’ll be able to pick up by inference, based on job title and time in their career.
Nevertheless, when you’re unable to find the answer to “How can I help you?” yourself, I default to figuring out what obstacles and challenges they’re currently facing. The question “What challenges are you facing right now?” is less of a question that is explicitly asked, but one of my main questions I need to get answered by the end of the conversation – no matter how long or short the conversation is. That said, there are fewer times than I can count where I felt compelled to explicitly ask someone I’m reaching out to help, “What challenges are you facing right now?”. I will admit I ask this quite often when catching up with friends.
So, what do I ask instead to find out what challenges the other is facing?
Draw assumptions based on appearance and energy. “You look like you haven’t been able to sleep well for the past two weeks.” Then following up with, “What have you been losing sleep over?”
Be willing to step up to the plate first. “I’ve been struggling with X this past week… Have you been struggling with anything recently?”
Sometimes the best answers and insights you’ll get into a person’s life isn’t through just a single question. But rather, through just the flow of conversation. And subsequently, I don’t have any one-size-fit-all template to gauge that.
While I admit I’m still working on being able to close conversations well myself, being able to close a conversation is sometimes more important than the conversation itself. As Maya Angelou once said, “At the end of the day people won’t remember what you said or did, they will remember how you made them feel.” On the same token, the end of a conversation will determine the aftertaste you leave in another’s mouth.
Quite often, I find myself closing off with: “You’ve been incredibly helpful. We’ve completely run out of time before we ran out of topics, but I want to be cognizant of your time. I’d be remiss if I didn’t at least try to be the same for you.” And depending on the conversation, I’d subsequently follow up with either:
“You mentioned X earlier in our conversation, and I would love to send you some amazing resources on that before the end of the day today.”
“I noticed that you recently tweeted about Y, so to thank you for your time, I compiled a list of Y that would hopefully save you some time.”
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.
Years ago, I remember reading somewhere, “Writer’s block is not that you don’t have any ideas. It’s when you don’t have ‘good enough’ ideas.” In my opinion, one of the greatest fatalities of the 2020s is not that people lack ideas. But people have a poor way of capturing ideas when ideas do come to them.
And in the theme of ideating in the busy world we live in today, I wrote a short thread earlier this week on the seven ways I capture ideas.
I carry a physical journal almost everywhere I go. Personally opt for a nice, weighty journal that I can’t wait to write in (none of that spiral bound, thin page notebooks, but that’s personal preference). My favorite brands: Leuchtturm1917/ Moleskine Page density: >150 g/m2
While I’m at it, a good pen. I prefer felt tip or fountain pen. Psychologists do say you tend to remember thoughts more if you physically write them out, over typing them out. For felt tip: Staedtler fineliners Fountain pen: LAMY
Reserve a full page for every idea. Even if your idea is only one sentence, give it space so that in the future you can come back to it and flush it out. As the wise Ron Swanson once said, “Never half-ass two things. Whole-ass one thing.”
Allocate at least 10 minutes to generate ideas. Even if you can’t think of anything for 10 minutes, sit through the whole 10. A few months ago, amidst a catch-up, a founder friend of mine – for lack of better words, a serial builder, having created more apps that I can count – shared with another friend and I something incredibly insightful about finding inspiration. “Not enough people give themselves bored time. To produce ideas, you have to give yourself time to be bored.” These days, I try to allocate 30 minutes of bored time.
I have a whiteboard in my shower. Yes, I take shower thoughts seriously. In fact, this blogpost originated from a shower whiteboarding session earlier this week. I’m not really picky on brand here, since it’s just to get thoughts on a board as quickly as I can, but get rain-proof markers.
Handwritten notes are notoriously hard to track. So, I have a 3-step process for this.
I have a table of contents at the back of every notebook. Usually reserve 4 pages for that. In there, I write down, page #, title of each journal entry, and key/most thought-provoking content.
By the time I finish each journal, I revisit the now-completed table of contents to highlight/circle what resonates with me the most from that table.
A few months later or 1-2 journals later, I revisit the same table of contents, browse through what I highlighted/circled, and for those that STILL resonate, I port over to my Notion, which becomes more or less my evergreen knowledge/idea hub.
When I’m completely lost or need inspiration, I find that the best way to generate ideas is to ask great questions. For questions on people and passions, I’m a big fan of Tim Ferriss and Sean Evans. For startup or VC questions, I love Harry Stebbings and Samir Kaji.
As a bonus eighth tip which I didn’t include in the Twitter thread, if you are still stuck, I find the question “What is the most important question I should be asking myself today?” quite useful.
Some examples of things I write in my idea journal:
Startup ideas
New things I learned in the venture capital space
Blogpost ideas
Introspective thoughts
Phrases and vernacular that other people say or write that I really like
Great questions to ask myself or others
Recipes I come up with
Dreams
Riddles or puzzles
Short stories
Concept art
In sum, anything is fair game. The more I allow my mind to expand without constraints, the more I’m able to draw parallels between seemingly disparate data points and create new meaning. At least for myself.
In closing
I passed by another quote over the years, and the attribution escapes me. “If you have don’t have any ideas, read more. If you have ideas, write more.” I’d extend it even further by saying, when you have a deficit of inspiration, consume. Read and listen more. There is a plethora of content out there today. And they are all more accessible than ever – from books to podcasts to articles to videos. When you have a surplus of inspiration, produce. Write and do more.
#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!
After an investor’s recommendation recently, I stumbled on this question in an article in The Atlantic about the Grant Study. An incredible 80-year long longitudinal study following 268 Harvard-educated men and how they developed as adults. While most of the Grant Study men remain anonymous, some have publicly identified themselves, like Ben Bradlee and President John F. Kennedy. Simply put, it was history’s longest study on happiness. There were some fascinating discoveries in that study so far, like the six factors that acted leading indicators to healthy aging:
Physical activity,
A mature adaptive lifestyle to cope with ups and downs,
Little use of alcohol,
No smoking,
Stable marriage, and
Maintaining a normal weight.
I highly recommend reading George Vaillant’s Aging Well. If you’re short on time, Robert Waldinger’s TED talk. But I digress.
Despite always preaching to others that they should ask for help when they need it, I’m a terrible practitioner of my own advice. Sometimes I find it incredibly hard to ask for help from others. In situations I should be the expert in. In moments when I don’t think my problems are as big as others’. And in times when I don’t know what I want. While I hate to admit it, it’s often a problem attributed to my ego. And sometimes, unwittingly.
If you had to live your life over again, what problem would you have sought help for and whom would you have gone to?
The reason I love this question so much is that in asking it, we suspend our ego. It’s often easier to open up about the “[potholes] in the rearview mirror” than “[open] up about the potholes ahead” to use the words of Jeff Wald. It’s easier to answer What were you scared of as a child? than What are you scared of today?. I find it easier to:
Reflect on what I should have asked for help in.
Understand why I should have asked for help sooner in an empirical situation.
Then use those first principles to inform me when I should ask for help now.
Your mileage may very much vary. But nevertheless, over the past week, I found it to be an interesting thought exercise to go through. At the very minimum, something to journal on.
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.
Last week, after a lovely conversation with a startup operator, he asked if there was anything he could help me with. I defaulted to my usual. As I’m working on being a better writer, I asked him if time permitted, could he give me some feedback on my writing. For the sake of this blogpost, let’s call him “Alex.”
While I expected just general feedback on my style of content delivery, Alex gave me a full audit of this blog. He told me I should focus, until I’ve built up an audience. He also said that I should find my top 20 blogposts, figure which category they fall under and narrow down by writing more of those. On the same token, he recommended I reference Hubspot’s “topic clusters.” Which is an amazing piece about how to nail SEO in 2021, if I say so myself. Incredibly prescient. And incredibly true.
He also recommended I use Medium or Substack over my antiquated design of a website. And forgo the header image. Which you might have noticed I haven’t (yet).
The thing is… he’s 100% right. I’ve done little right, in the sense of marketing and branding. In fact, in the Google search engines, I probably am a mess to categorize, which means I exist in no category. Even in my own words, focusing on everything means focusing on nothing. While at the time of writing this post, a good majority of my content is based in startups and venture capital. If I focused on better branding, I would have doubled down on fundraising, or marketing. Or social experiments. But I haven’t.
Truth be told, I’ve stunted my growth, or my brand’s growth, by intentionally choosing otherwise. In turn, there are only two questions I optimize for in this blog.
Will this make David from yesterday smarter?
Is this still fun?
I started this blog writing for an audience of one. For the person I was yesterday. And if I know the me from yesterday would love it, then I have at least one happy customer.
I don’t write this blog for profit. This blog is my de-stressor. It is my entertainer, yet also my coach. It is my confidant. And it is just fun. The process of learning and thinking through writing – refining my thoughts – gets me really excited. I don’t want to end up dragging my feet through mud. Funnily enough, despite being an extremely, and I stress the former word, small blogger, I’ve had the occasional brand reach out to sponsor content. As you might have guessed, I said “no” to everyone so far. Either I didn’t believe that the product would make the world a better place or that I just didn’t get their product. This is not to say I won’t ever take on sponsors, but I just want to be really excited about it.
I’ve also had a number of folks reach out wanting to guest post on this blog, to which I’ve also said “no” to everyone so far. Because (a) it makes me lazy and defeats the purpose of me writing to think, and (b) I haven’t learned anything from them yet.
And because I write from a motivation of “psychic gratification,” borrowing the phrasing Tim Ferriss used in his recent episode, my writing is “very me,” to borrow the phrasing of readers and friends who’ve talked to me face-to-face before. I feel I can be genuine. And I can be unapologetically curious. I can learn what I want when I want how I want. I love each topic I write about, at least in the moment my pen touches paper. It excites me. It inspires me. And it pulls me with a force I want more of.
As a product of me being me, every so often, a random essay sees a momentary breath of fame. On average, it happens every 7th or 8th blogpost. I have these random spikes of several hundred views within 24 hours every so often. And don’t get me wrong. I would be lying if I said that wasn’t gratifying as well. Other times, some essays are far more perennial and see anywhere between two and ten views a day – almost every day. There are the ones that never make it onto the stage. And live somewhere in a virtual public graveyard.
I’m publicly logging my thought process here as a bookmark for future reference. And so that my future self can’t go back in time and write off my thought processes now in a grand motion of revisionist’s history.
I also know that this won’t be the last time I revisit this topic. My future mental model might differ greatly from what it is now. As John Maynard Keynes, father of Keynesian economics, once said, “When the facts change, I change my mind.” But it might stay the same. Who knows?
#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!
“Use three adjectives to describe your sibling. And describe yourself in comparison.”
I heard this question weeks ago from Doug Leone, Sequoia Capital‘s Global Managing Partner, on Harry Stebbings’ 20VC podcast. Known for having some of the best questions in venture and having led incredible investments into Meraki, Nubank, ServiceNow, and more, Doug loves to ask this question to founders he’s meeting for the first time. My initial response was “this doesn’t make any sense.” But in the podcast, he reveals why he loves the afore-mentioned question.
Before writing a check, an early-stage investor’s job is to answer three questions. Why now? Why this? And why you? The ‘why you’ question is admittedly one of the hardest questions to answer. Even for myself, I struggle from time to time to understand why I should scout a one founder over another over the same idea.
In a short 30 minute conversation, there’s only so much an investor can understand about a founder. There’s fundamentally a level of information asymmetry. Founders want to convince investors to take a bet on them. Yet, investors need more information to be comfortable making an asymmetric bet on them. We see echoes of a similar dilemma when recruiters interview applicants for jobs. Or when a property manager interviews a potential tenant.
Generally, recruiters, like most others, regress to questions like: “What are three of your strengths? Three weaknesses?” Having been asked so bluntly, interviewees, on the other hand, often have their guards up. They pick three strengths that would make them look the best. Equally so, they pick three weaknesses that show just enough honesty and vulnerability where they don’t get disqualified from the candidate pool. All of which exemplify pre-scripted answers.
Conversely, Doug found a way to do so without arming the interviewee’s, in this case, the founder’s, defenses. What three adjectives would you use to describe your sibling?
As Doug shares, “In a law of diversity, two siblings are less likely to be alike than two strangers. And so, how they usually describe their siblings is usually opposite of how they describe themselves. It’s a self-awareness question.”
You might realize the same principle holds when you describe a friend or a colleague or your spouse. The way you describe them often contrasts with your own disposition. “My friend is really curious.” Implicitly, you’re saying you’re not as curious.
So, the next time you talk about someone else, it’d be an interesting thought experiment to see how those same words relate or contrast with you.
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.
The goal of any professional in today’s economy is to never have to submit another resume ever again.
I swear this isn’t an original line, yet I can’t recall the person nor the setting in which I was told. Nevertheless, whether this was a lucid moment or not, it has been firmly etched into my pre-frontal cortex for years.
Building in public and growing under public scrutiny – be it on Twitter or a blog or another form of social media – is one of the best ways to build rapport and credibility. It’s a photograph. An imprint. Still, and in many ways, permanent. A record that you and others can revisit and reasonably objectify your personal growth. Those data points tell a story. Either you connect those dots personally, or often times, someone else connects them for you.
“We are all the unreliable narrators of each other’s stories.”
If you’ve been following my blog over the past few months, that line will carry a familiar scent. My favorite and the first line I heard from the best film I watched this year, In and Of Itself. When my buddy DJ recommended it to me, he told me only two things:
It’s about identity.
And, “we are all the unreliable narrators of each other’s stories.”
It’d be a travesty if I spoiled the plot now. The best way to watch it is, like most unforgettable experiences, going in blind. No summary, no trailer. If my word means anything, it’d be my answer to the question: What is the one movie you’d recommend someone who just time travelled 50 years from the past to catch up with the way people in 2021 think?
But I digress.
Street cred is built up not by what you say about yourself, but by what other people say about you. That street cred will benefit you much more than a sheet of paper that summarizes your entire career into a single pager with 12-point font. I wrote a blogpost recently on how a pitch deck fails to summarize the motivations, the story, the wins and the losses behind building a business. So, you should always be fundraising. Always be selling. Always be pitching. And as you build champions around you, they’ll tell your story – by referring you to investors, share your product on social media, and sell you for you to their friends. Analogously, a resume for a job seeker echoes the same shortcomings a pitch deck has for a founder. Job-seeking sucks. Just like how fundraising sucks.
If only life were simple
Every person has a story. If not multiple stories. We are each a product of more than one storyline. A narrative in hindsight, when we willingly choose to ignore 99% of the other facts.
One of my favorite internet writers, Max Nussenbaum, recently wrote something quite profound. “We tell ourselves stories in order to live, but our lives aren’t actually stories. If they were, they’d be poorly written ones: just a bunch of stuff that happens, with no coherent structure or consistent thematic underlines.”
There’d be far fewer cases of self-doubt and depression, if life was as straightforward as a movie script. But it’s not. And neither should it be. It’s messy. But that’s great. Because we can connect the dots however we want.
There are many ways to tell a story. And the best stories are told by others.
And yes, the goal of any professional in today’s economy is to never have to submit another resume ever again. Frankly, after a certain threshold of rapport, you won’t need to.
#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!
One of the greatest blessings I have today is that friends often introduce me to their incredible friends. Two weeks ago, one of my good college friends introduced me to a friend he made down in LA. Sam. A brilliant aspiring fund manager. Cut her teeth with driving impact at non-profits. But above all else, her ability to host dinners with strangers caught my eye and ear. Since I’m a big fan of sharing my learnings from hosting brunches with strangers and socialexperiments. In a short span of a week, we became fast friends. Expectedly, I had to ask Sam how she brought strangers closer together at her dinners.
Last week we jumped on another call where she walked me through her process. “David, it’s easier to show you than to tell you. Are you open to being vulnerable?”
“Yes.”
“Tell me about your life philosophy.” She asked me what influenced the life purpose I have today. Over the next half an hour, we dove into the depths.
The first third was populated by a politician’s answer. I wasted zero calories jumping into my upbringing and why that has influenced the person I am today. Unwittingly then, but in hindsight clarity now, they were all narratives I’ve rehearsed before – intentionally and unintentionally. After all, they were the cookie cutter responses I’d give to cookie cutter questions most people asked.
Yet, after each of my narratives, there would be a brief pause. What lasted only mere seconds felt like eternity for me. In those moments, she was a woman of few words. Comfortable with silence, she would occasionally beckon, “Tell me more.” On the other hand, I was impatient to fill the void. The emptiness was unsettling. I felt like a circus monkey forced to perform and that the audience’s claps and laughs was the only representation of my self-worth. But that was all in my head.
“Tell me more.”
I filled the next third with stories I’ve told before but not in a while. A reminder to myself that I am more than the person who existed in just the last two years. That I’ve had 23 other years than I somehow left in the attic collecting dust. That I am not a function of my job title or the people I surround myself with currently. But rather the accretion of everything before as well. Where the first third was sharing the mold I now fit in, the second third of our conversation was sharing why seemingly disparate events and relationships in the past fit the mold I had just shared. In sum, I was still making sense of things.
“Tell me more.”
I was ill-equipped to deal with the last third. I was no longer armed with the stories I had rehearsed throughout the 25 years I’ve been alive. Analogously, I was someone who just learned what exponents and derivatives were. When my 5-year old cousin asked the fifth “why”, I didn’t have an answer for her. Not like I did with the first four.
In this case, she asked the third “why”. And I was already at a loss for words. I was lost between doubt and anxiety, between shock and curiosity. But it was in the last ten minutes when I finally dropped my guard. My guard where everything had to make sense. My guard against the fear of uncertainty, not just for the future, but for my past.
A few moments of silence passed. Once again, long, but not nearly as uncomfortable as in the beginning.
At the end of our conversation, she left me to wrestle with my own uncertainty. But with the offer to dive even deeper the next time. And I was left with my own turmoiled mind, unable to find the words outside of sweeping generalizations to express what I felt and how I felt it. While I was grasping for the Merriam-Webster to make sense of my inner entropy, she sent me the below wheel. Something she relies on, to this day, to keep her emotional vocabulary from atrophying. In being able to identify her emotions, she is better set to understand them.
As I’m writing this blogpost, her words “true vulnerability is messy” still ring in my head. And it’s in those moments we build trust and bond with each other. And also with ourselves.
The purpose of this exercise and with vulnerability is not to have more answers than questions. Bur rather more questions than answers. And the ability to ask more.
#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!
