The Pain of Entrepreneurship

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I was chatting with an founder-investor last Friday about the complexities of the founder-idea and the investor-founder discovery process. Eventually, our conversation arrived at the “idea maze“, coined by Balaji Srinivasan – which describes how one’s past life experiences position her/him best to tackle a new problem. And it bled into how great investors, or people who have a track record for backing entrepreneurs who change the world, differentiate good founders from great founders. And I turned the question many of my friends, who are interested in angel and early-stage investing, have asked me to her:

How can one, without necessarily having gone through the entire entrepreneurial experience, better understand and empathize with the founder journey?

It’s a question I have tried to resolve myself, since I’ve only experienced the two extremes of building a startup – at its conception till product-market fit and right before an acquisition – and at two different ventures. I’ve heard many answers over the years:

  • Read books or listen to podcasts about startups,
  • Chat with founders,
  • Shadow them for a month or more,
  • Advise them at their early stages,
  • Join an angel group to hold office hours for them,
  • And, start your own business…

…. each from at least ten different sources. But she said something that I have never thought of before. Live with an entrepreneur.

A simple answer, yes. But a spectacularly profound one, nonetheless. I’ve had the fortune of living with an aspiring e-sports athlete, an aspiring Korean pop star, and a property manager. In all three cases, I learned, even passively, about the lifestyle of each – their wins, their stressors, even how meticulous they think about their apparel for the day, but most importantly, how hard they each worked to realize their dream. It’s not something any interview, book, podcast, blog post, and even shadowing experience can teach you.

I’ve been taught since I was a kid in elementary school to work smart, not hard, or its better cousin: work smart and hard. But in both mantras, working hard is always overshadowed by working smart. In fact, over time, I learned it wasn’t just me. Media portrays society’s hardest workers in biased, unflattering light. I remember watching a bunch of movies and TV shows as a kid where the janitor or the bus driver, playing a side character, is either a 300-pound man or an old spindly soul with hollowed eyes. Mike Rowe, host of one of my favorite childhood TV shows, Dirty Jobs, is definitely more illustrious on this stigma than I am, which he explains in his 2009 TED talk. In Silicon Valley, the occupation of being an entrepreneur isn’t too different. Yes, there’s the supposed glamour of being the next Mark Zuckerberg or Steve Jobs. But whether it’s Shikhar Ghosh‘s study that 75% of startups fail, or the 90% or 95% many others reference, the truth is the numbers work against you. Moreover, unless you’re “venture-backed”, when people see “entrepreneur” on your resume, many think “unemployed”.

Yet, I’ve realized people with the entrepreneurial spirit are some of the hardest working individuals I’ve ever met, given that there are still many who seek the title over the commitment – what I’ve come to call “wantrapreneurs.” None of my apartment-mates ever called themselves an entrepreneur or a founder, but in every sense, each of them was and is the definition of a hard worker, a hustler, and an entrepreneur. They were scrappy. They were ambitious. Or like I mentioned in my post last week, they were obsessed. They’ve navigated their own idea mazes to set themselves up for success. For example, one of my suitemates saw the value of stacking chairs every week during work study and turned it into efficient inventory management and an opportunity to get in front of the music director without an official audition. Many of the entrepreneurs around me I respect the most never had the B-school education and weren’t classically trained in the Porter’s Five Forces or the SWOT analysis. A few even dropped out of school, but they all have the capacity to work hard, then synthesize the data around them. The commitment to work hard prefaces the facility to find a shortcut. One founder, to keep his business afloat, biked up and down the hills of San Francisco delivering Uber Eats, since he couldn’t afford a car and its insurance plan. Another went to his dream client’s headquarters every day at 9AM for two months straight to secure a meeting, and subsequently, a contract. A third flew back to meet with clients that were about to bail on his startup, despite still not having recovered from four fractures in his vertebrae, leaving him paralyzed below the chest.

I’m not saying my apartment-mates or the founders aren’t smart. In fact, they’re some of the smartest folks I know, but it’s their constant willingness to get their hands dirty that has my utmost respect. Though I’ve lived with my apartment-mates, I’ve never lived with any founders, but I can only imagine the depth of understanding and empathy one would have by being in such close proximity. And in doing so, how one can appreciate the founder journey beyond the facts, and experience the emotional pain points as well.

The Secret Sauce

Photo by Aarón Blanco Tejedor on Unsplash

I was chatting with a founder yesterday about why she was getting so many “maybe’s”, a few “no’s”, but no “yes’s”, where a “yes” needs to come along with a term sheet, or else it’s as good as a “maybe.” Her product was hitting most of the check boxes for a startup ripe for the seed round, but she just wasn’t getting any traction from investors. There were a few KPIs she was missing here and there, but most startups don’t fit in the cookie cutter rubric anyway. So why?

It was and is the secret sauce. Others might call it the X-factor. It’s what uniquely sets you, as a founder, and your team and product apart from the rest of the competition. Like I mentioned in my thesis, what did you catch that makes money, which everyone else underestimating or missing entirely? It could be an insight; it could be a business model; it could be a specific money-generating collective customer insight. And how will this secret sauce continue to help you gain traction, at the minimum, for next few years. Moreover, at an early stage, pre-product-market fit (pre-PMF), it really only has to be one thing. It doesn’t have to be a list of the five ‘unfair advantages,’ like they teach in B-school. It’s not the chart with you having all the check boxes checked and everyone else having less checks than you do. It’s more often than not, not the up and to the right graph that you have in your slide deck. Because let’s be honest, every startup’s graph is up and to the right. Left side – antiquated. Right side – revolutionary. Bottom side – slow. Top side – fast. Or some cousin of that. Not that any of these advantages, charts and graphs are wrong, but what they represent most likely isn’t as unique as a founder might think. VCs see thousands of pitches in their inbox, pitches at events, and pitches in person. What you think is unique may be the 50th time a VC sees the exact same value proposition. As one of my 6th grade teachers once put it into perspective for me, “Think of a hundred really, really creative ideas. Throw them all away because all of them are unoriginal. Now think of your next hundred, and you are finally entering where no one has tread before.”

Just one thing. One thing I, as a scout, or another as partner, can bring to a partner meeting and say: This one thing is why we should invest. The more intuitive, yet exclusive to you, the better. Investors only have so much bandwidth to entertain ideas. There is a huge sum of okay ideas. Many good ideas. A few crazy ideas. And an even smaller handful of crazy good ideas. And the secret sauce is to prove to anyone exactly why you are one of the crazy good ones.

Now the secret sauce gets more nuanced here. You and your startup not only need that secret sauce, but you need to make sure the investor that you’re talking to is the “best dollar on your cap table,” as Roy Bahat of Bloomberg Beta (yes, the link redirects to a Github link, and they might be the only investors out there that does that) puts it. Why is it the perfect fit for the investor you’re chatting with (or going to chat with)? And why is that investor, and no one else, uniquely suited to help your business flourish at this stage? For example, I can cook up the meanest mushroom dish ever, slather it with my widely-accepted secret sauce (which has white pepper in it), and give it to my brother. No matter how good it actually is, he will without a doubt throw it in the trash or flush it down the toilet. Because he’s just not into mushrooms. The same can be said with investors. If they can’t or don’t know how to appreciate, savor and help you build on that delicious mushroom recipe, you’d just be wasting time barking on the wrong tree.

All in all, the secret sauce is just when your unique recipe for success meets someone with the means and experience to love it.

The Myth of the 30-Second Elevator Pitch

I’m not the biggest fan of the 30-second elevator pitch. Although I do believe it has its merits in the art of being concise – to be able to take a complex subject, be it a person or a project, and succinctly describe it for your respective audience, I trust the art of storytelling more.

The elevator pitch is designed to be the appetizer before the entrée, but what I find more valuable is the entrée itself, which, unless you’re at a 20-course Michelin-starred meal, aren’t short. I have rarely seen a deal close on an elevator pitch, much like I haven’t seen or heard of two people become best friends on a “Tell me about yourself.” Elevator pitches, like teaser trailers, are designed to have certain words or phrases click with the one(s) you’re pitching to, and, at some point, becomes too “templated” to connect on an emotional, more-human level. Earlier this month, I recall Robert McKee, one of the most respected screenwriting lecturers out there and a FullBright Scholar, writing about the dichotomy between film and TV in his newsletter, which is analogous to the differential between pitches and an in-depth coffee chat:

“Long-form writers have the power to reveal character complexity and depths of humanity no medium has ever delivered in history.”

Similarly, in my experience, through having a conversation about one’s inflection points in life, I can better understand someone’s depth of character and scars. For example, I love to ask founders: “How did this idea come to be?” Like I alluded to in my piece about my thesis, founders who are obsessed about the idea have a personal vendetta against the problem. They use “I’s” and “we’s”, whereas others who haven’t seen the blood, sweat and tears firsthand would often reference the numbers and speak in large, more abstract scopes. Outside of founders, especially those in fundraising mode, who have practiced knowingly or unwittingly the same responses over and over from meeting with investors, people, who have been in the trenches, often have a less well-rehearsed response to such questions – more scrappy, but much more detailed.

Just the other day, I read a brilliant response to a Quora question on “As a VC, how do you know an entrepreneur has ‘grit’?” that summarizes a quick calculus that differentiates the entrepreneurs from the “wantrapreneurs.” The answer in two words: specificity and compassion – two things which, unfortunately, most elevator pitches don’t cover.