Earlier this week, Zach Coelius shared his path to running a fund with the On Deck Angels community. And near the end of the session, one of our fellows asked something along the lines of: How do you pick great founders? To which, Zach responded, and I’m paraphrasing: I look for really smart people I want to be around. And every person has something different that makes them smart.
I’ve heard many variations of Zach’s closing comment over the years. “I look for someone I want to work for.” “I look for someone who gets me excited about a space I didn’t I’d get excited about.” “A really sharp individual who teaches me something new almost every time we talk.” The common thread, in all these statements, is that the thing that drives early-stage investors to conviction is not quantitative, but qualitative in nature. Moreover, given that the next Steve Jobs or Elon Musk will look nothing like either of the afore-mentioned, it’s hard to build the search for outliers into a reliable mental model, other than the openness to be amazed.
Fred Wilson wrote a great piece at the beginning of this week about his rationale for investing in Coinbase, Twitter, and Dapper. His title, which sums it all up really well, is: Keeping It Simple. His lesson: “That’s keeping it simple. It doesn’t always work. We get more wrong than we get right. But when we get it right, amazing things can happen.”
Along a similar vein, I jumped on a call with a buddy of mine who’s raising his first fund after having an enviable track record as an angel. On this said call, we talked about how junior investors, the bottom 75% of investors, late-stage investors, and investors that have yet to find their own way to get to conviction, spend more time on the quantitative. A very analytical, repeatable, quantifiable approach. For better or for worse, cerebral. On the flip side, the best early-stage investors out there, by track record of consistent top-notch returns, don’t spend nearly as much time obsessing over the numbers. Or evidence. In fact, before you invest at the A, for most businesses, there really isn’t any hard metric that is going to get you from 50 to 90% conviction.
Even in my own personal journey, when I started off, I found myself sticking to the “tried and true” questions:
- What are your unit economics?
- How many customers do you have? How are they using your product?
- What percent of your customers are coming back to use the product on the second day?
- What do your retention curves look like?
- Your monthly growth rate for the past three months?
All of which, you may notice, are quantitative in nature. In fact, this best part of this blog is that you can literally track my thinking over the past few years. I went from writing about metrics (more here, just to name a few) I look for in startups to writing about intuition. In fact, even my attempt to codify intuition is, by definition, using my frontal lobe.
All I need to worry about are moments when a founder teaches me something new that I didn’t know I would love. A simple, but surprisingly rare happenstance. I see a lot of good startup ideas and teams, even some great ones. But it’s rare I meet an “Oh sh*t!” one. Subsequently, that probably also means, at my current stage, I’d make a poor fund manager, since I don’t have enough consistently high-quality deal flow. Consistent, yes. High-quality, in my humble opinion, yes. But consistently high-quality, I’m still too early. At least in the scope of “Oh sh*t!”
One of the greatest sobering facts about venture is that it’s a business that’s designed to keep you humble. Like Fred mentioned, I am wrong way more often than I’m right. And the times I trusted my head over my gut are times I find most regretful. To better illustrate this, let me share an anecdote.
Back in 2018, one of my good friends introduced me to a set of co-founders. Scratch that. Even before they started working on the business idea. And I’m going to abstract the name of the startup. But if you’re a frequent reader of this blog, you’ve probably already seen the trail of cookie crumbs.
I met them for the first time at their beautiful, well-furnished SF apartment with Scandinavian furniture that definitely warranted a pretty price tag. Out of curiosity, I asked how much it cost to live there. And for four bedrooms and three baths, they shared a ridiculously low number. A third of the price I imagined they’d be paying. Then of course, I had to ask how much the furniture cost. “$100, just to ship them over. Otherwise, they’re all free.”
Apparently, they networked their way into a community of office managers. They learned that so many venture-backed startups in the Bay, upon receiving funding, want to look like Airbnb. Founders buy the most expensive furniture – modern layouts, quirky chairs, rustic-looking tables. They also bring the creme de la creme of interior designers to help them set it all up.
But as statistics show, most of these fold every year. When they do, the last thing they want to worry about is their reminder of frivolous spending. As such, office managers end up with so many pieces of high-end furniture they just need to get rid of. Those same pieces of artisanal furniture now sat in these three founders’ living room. And it’s even crazier to know that they weren’t from the Bay. They didn’t have connections coming here, nor jobs lined up initially.
The stories didn’t stop there. In subsequent catchups, I learned of their previous hustles. Each blew my mind more than the last.
When it finally came down to it, and I had the chance to invest, I fell into the comfort of the shackles of borrowed mental models, demand for traction, metrics, the whole nine yards of what made me sound like a really smart, possibly high-browed, VC. And I said no. Today, they’re worth over nine figures, with 8-figure revenue numbers at their last funding round.
I amassed a massive anti-portfolio in my early days trusting my brain over my gut. A brain, like most, was and continues to be incapable of fully understanding the effects of the power law.
To borrow a Pat Grady lesson, any person with a head above two shoulders – in other words, a recurring practitioner of logic and reasoning – is capable of figuring out what’s wrong. But as an early-stage investor, one of the biggest mental hurdles you have to overcome, is spending more time imagining what can go really, really right. And not its counterpart.
As an investor before product-market fit, you invest belief capital, not optimization capital. You’re not putting fuel on the fire. You’re putting faith in a person – in a team – and in an insight.
Photo by Daniel Mingook Kim on Unsplash
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Any views expressed on this blog are mine and mine alone. They are not a representation of values held by On Deck, DECODE, or any other entity I am or have been associated with. They are for informational and entertainment purposes only. None of this is legal or investment advice. Please do your own diligence before investing in startups and consult your own adviser before making any investments.