What is play to you but work to everyone else? Or said differently, what do you love doing that many others would hate or get bored of quickly?
This isn’t an original self-query. I want to say I heard it years ago on one of Tim Ferriss’ episodes, but the exact one escapes me. Yet, recently, my friends and colleagues remind me of this more and more. In the ultimate shortage of labor, more than ever before, people are rethinking what career means to them and what a meaningful career means. I’ve had friends become full-time live streamers, NFT creators, inventors, fiction novelists, artisans… you name it, and I bet you someone that I know – hell someone you know – has dabbled or jumped head-first into it. It truly is the era of the Great Resignation.
Now this question isn’t a call to arms to leave whatever you’re doing. Rather a direction of clarity that may help you live a more enriching life. Something to pursue in your down time. Until you can find a way to get paid to do so – unless you happen to have 20-30 years of runway from previous riches. The same is true if you’re an aspiring founder. Work on your project part-time, until you are ready to take it full-time either with investment capital or revenue.
For me, the answer to the above question is:
Writing (to think)
Meeting, and more specifically, learning from passionately curious and curiously passionate people (what can I say, I’m a glutton for inspiration)
Becoming a world-class questioner (you’ve probably guessed this one from the DGQ series)
Collecting quotes and phrasings that resonate (a few of which are repeat offenders on my blog)
Helping people realize their dreams (something that was much easier when I only had 20 friends, but much harder when I’m adding zeros to the right)
Many of the above have become synonymous with my job description over the years. Did I predict I would fall into venture capital? No. Frankly, it was a result of serendipity and staying open-minded to suggestions from people I really respect.
While this may come off as virtue signaling, to me, I’m willing to, did lose, and continue to lose sleep over each and every one of the above activities. And if I know anything about myself, my goalposts are likely to change over time. Not drastically, but fine-tuned over 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.
A founder recently asked me how investors would perceive her going through two different accelerator programs. Specifically, what would investors think if she took dilutive capital from two investors who care about ownership targets, yet have similar, if not the same, value adds to her business?
How each type of investor thinks about dilution
It’s a great question. Unsurprisingly, a nuanced one as well.
Honestly, a “messy” cap table or early dilution is an excuse investors give when they’re not sold on you or the business. Investors regress to the “why this”, or otherwise known as, traction, when you haven’t convinced them on “why you.”
Investors want to be excited about you. They want to brag about you to their partnership, colleagues and friends. But if you don’t give them a strong reason to, they’re going to regress to what they know will return them capital. Predictability. And that comes in the form of traction. But I digress.
If Max Levchin or Phil Libin or Elon Musk or Justin Kan – pick your favorite serial entrepreneur with unicorn exits under their belt – wanted to raise for a new startup, no matter what it is or how early, people are gonna jump on the opportunity to regardless of how saturated the cap table is.
Let’s stand in the shoes of an investor for a second. Of which there are three main kinds of early investors.
Angels
Non-lead VCs and syndicate leads
VCs who lead rounds
For individual angels, ownership targets don’t matter. They just want a piece of the action. In fact, multiple sources of signal and validation give them more confidence to invest. Especially if you’ve taken previous or current checks from your small handful of top tier VCs. These angels’ check sizes are negligible on the cap table, so they won’t end up crowding anyone else out.
On the other hand, notice how I bucketed non-lead VCs and syndicate leads into the same category. Why? These investors are writing bigger checks. They won’t price the round. And they move a lot faster if someone with a great track record is leading the round. Once again, ownership also doesn’t matter, but great co-investors do. As long as ownership targets don’t matter, the excuse of dilution is merely lip service. The story here is “I just need to get in the best deals, so I can raise my next fund from LPs.” Or “I need build my track record as an investor, so I can raise a fund one day.” I’m going to generalize here really quickly. While it doesn’t apply to every non-lead investor, it does apply to the vast majority. I dare say, 90% of them. These investors move on the combination of three levers:
Great traction
Great team,
And great co-investors – the last of which is often the most important.
The more of the above levers you have as a founder, the faster you’ll get a check from the above individuals and institutions. Why do great co-investors matter so much? Outside of branding and social rapport, their investors – their LPs – also want to invest in these top deals led by these funds, but often can’t invest into these top-tier funds since everyone wants to get into a16z or Sequoia. In fact, for many of these top-tier funds, there’s a massive waitlist of LPs.
Finally, lead VCs. Ownership does matter. Really, this is the only audience you need to worry about when it comes to the topic of early dilution. While you as a founder should be dilution-preserving, sometimes, taking the capital (and subsequently, the dilution) is the best option. Maybe you really need something from an accelerator or an early investor that would be hard to get for you yourself. At that point, their capital becomes optimization capital. Early checks can get you from A to B faster, with less burn potentially, and with less detours.
So, the question you have to figure out if you take subsequent capital injections is that each time you dilute the cap table, did you reach an important milestone? What’s worrying is if you keep diluting your cap table without making meaningful progress each time. Think in the framework of milestone-based financing. Raise what you need, while giving you and your team an appropriate margin of error.
In closing
As a footnote, it’s also important to consider how much equity you as the founder will have left upon exit. If you’re going through large amounts of early dilution, you’re going to have very little upside unless you go through a massive exit. Unlike investors who invest in many businesses and have diversified their risk appetite, you, the founder, have put all your eggs in one basket. So if you care about the upside, you want to reduce dilution unless there is an absolute necessity to raise capital.
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I’m a big fan of self-deprecating humor, but this isn’t one of those moments. Rather it’s a learning moment. While the above question is a lagging indicator for personal growth, it nevertheless deserves to be measured. After all, as the great Peter Drucker would say, you cannot manage what you cannot measure.
The timeframe of evaluation
Why a month? Why not a week? Or not a year?
In the business world, there’s a concept called the rule of 72. Effectively, 72 divided by the growth rate is the time it takes to double. For instance, if you’re growing 30% month-over-month, 72 divided by 30 is 2.4. So, if you’re growing revenue at 30% every month, you’re going to double your revenue in roughly two and a half months.
It is equally as analogous for personal growth.
time it takes to shock yourself = 72 / rate of learning
Let’s say you’re a first-time founder, and you only knew 10 things about how to start a business. But every day, you learn one more thing – via podcasts, articles, blogs, classes, you name it. Give or take a 10% growth rate. You will double your knowledge in about a week. Hopefully enough to shock the you from a week prior. Or take another example, many self-help books ask you to commit to getting 1% better every day. Assuming you consistently do that, you would have doubled your experience in about 2.5 months.
That goes to say, the faster you want to grow, the shorter the timeframe should be for you to look back and reflect on your “stupidity.” For me, it is in my nature to be hungry for knowledge, and I really love learning about things I thought I knew and what I didn’t know. For now, as learning is a top priority for me, a month sounds like a reasonable timeframe to shock myself. I also use the term “stupidity” lightly and with notes of self-deprecating love.
The shock factor
But how do you measure personal growth? Something rather intangible. It isn’t a number like revenue or user acquisition. Some people might have a set of resolutions or goals that is tangible and quantitative – say read two books a month or exercise an hour four days a week. Great goals, but they are often based on the assumption that movement is progress. The two aren’t mutually exclusive, but neither are they synonymous. The former – movement – lacks retrospection.
There were, are, and will be days, weeks, and months, we may just be busy. Our schedule is packed. We’re a duck paddling furiously underwater. And we’re gasping for air. And while our body and mind are exhausted, our body and mind have not expanded. I know I’m not alone when I think to myself, “Wow, I did a lot, but I still feel like I’m not moving anywhere.”
Our brains are unfortunately also poor predictors of the future. We use past progress as indicators of future progress. But while history often rhymes, it does not repeat. Our predictions end up being guesstimates at best.
So I look into the past. I measure my own personal growth emotionally – by shock, very similar to how Tim Urban measures progress of the human race (which I included at the end of a previous essay). I don’t know what the future will hold and neither will I make many predictions of what the future will hold for me. If I knew, I’d have made a fortune on the stock market already, in startups, or on crypto already. What I can commit to is my relentless pursuit of taking risks, making mistakes, and trying things that scare the bejesus out of me. Since only by making new mistakes will I grow as a person. What I am equipped with now can be mapped out by the scar tissue I’ve accumulated.
Coming full circle, what’ll make me realize and appreciate my mistakes and failures more is knowing that as a greenhorn I was laughably stupid.
But if, in retrospect, David from a month ago sounds like quite the sensible person, my growth will have gone from exponential to linear. Or worse, flatlined.
For founders
And now that I’m thinking aloud – or rather, writing aloud (which may deserve its indictment into the #unfiltered series), this might be a great line of questions to ask founders as well.
As a founder, what was the last dumb thing you did? When was that?
And before that, what was the second most recent dumb thing you did?
And the third most recent?
There’s the commonly repeated saying in the venture world. Investors invest in lines, not dots. Two’s a line. Three’s a curve. I want to see how fast you’ve been growing and learning.
Why such a question?
If we’re in it for the long run, I wanna assess how candid and self-aware you are. Pitch meetings often depict a portrait of perfection. But founders, like all humans, aren’t perfect. For that matter, neither are investors.
Venture capital is impatient capital. We demand aggressive timelines, and honestly, quite toxic to most people in the world. Given that, if you’re going to learn how to hustle after investors invest, you’re going to have a tough time convincing investors. But if the hustle is already in your DNA, that bias to action lends much better to the venture model.
The DGQ series is a series dedicated to my process of question discovery and execution. When curiosity is the why, DGQ is the how. It’s an inside scoop of what goes on in my noggin’. My hope is that it offers some illumination to you, my readers, so you can tackle the world and build relationships with my best tools at your disposal. It also happens to stand for damn good questions, or dumb and garbled questions. I’ll let you decide which it falls under.
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.
Straight off the bat, you might have realized that the 10th issue of the DGQ series – damn good questions – starts off with a non-question. And it is intentional by design. I often waste a number of calories constructing the perfect question. And in many ways, I get very, very close to what I deem as perfection. Exhibit A, B, and C.
But over the course of constructing the perfect question and its subsequent research, I often uncover the answer I am seeking… before I even ask it to the intended designee. I don’t mean for the odd question here and there amidst spontaneous conversation. But the predestined ones to be asked in:
Fireside chats
Intro conversations
Coffee chats with individuals where I’m punching above my weight class
Podcast interviews
Social experiments
First dates (possibly self-incriminating)
Accompanied by the excuse of creating conversation, I ask it despite the since-acquired knowledge. Sometimes to the wonder and amazement of the recipient, but more often than not to the boredom of myself. While the words that flutter out of my mouth may sound like a question, it ends up merely being a statement rearranged on a NY Times crossword puzzle.
In reframing questions for myself, I realized… If I knew all the answers to the questions I would ask, that’d make for quite a boring life. While boredom only surfaced a minority of the time, it occurred noticeably enough times. If I had a mirror to myself every time I asked a question, I imagine I would find myself asking the ones I have the answers to already with a furrowed brow.
Last year, in the relentless pursuit of being a better host for structured conversations, I over-optimized for shock and delightful surprise. Shock became my unfortunate currency for my personal delight. Rather than enlightenment, education, and inspiration. In the construction of the “perfect question,” while protecting my downside – in terms of embarrassment, I capped my upside.
So, this essay is a reminder to myself. Ask dumb questions. It’s okay. It’s only by reinventing yourself again and again through the ashes of unintentional ignorance can you rise like a phoenix.
I’m reminded of a quote by quite a contrarian philosopher, Karl Popper, but nevertheless quite appropriate here. “Good tests kill flawed theories; we remain alive to guess again.”
If you’re reading this essay, be prepared for a lot more dumb questions from me. Dumb, not garbled. Dumb and simple. I’ll continue to do my homework before conversations. But if I’ve found the answer already, I’m going to keep myself accountable to either find new questions or cancel the meeting. Cheers to the motif of exploration! And I’ll see you where I cannot foresee.
The DGQ series is a series dedicated to my process of question discovery and execution. When curiosity is the why, DGQ is the how. It’s an inside scoop of what goes on in my noggin’. My hope is that it offers some illumination to you, my readers, so you can tackle the world and build relationships with my best tools at your disposal. It also happens to stand for damn good questions, or dumb and garbled questions. I’ll let you decide which it falls under.
Subscribe to more of my shenaniganery. Warning: Not all of it will be worth the subscription. But hey, it’s free. But even if you don’t, you can always come back at your own pace.
Back in my sophomore year of college, I was running to be the vice president of a business organization. Part of the requirement to run as one was to shadow at least two executives from previous generations who held the same role. Brownie points if you shadowed the broader executive team as well. The goal was to better prepare yourself by increasing the context you had about a new role.
I checked off those boxes with flying colors. In fact I ended up talking to more than 20 other executives and other key campus constituents we would be interfacing with. Along the way, I shared what I would do, not do, and do differently compared to previous roles. I also told them how I would forever change the organization and its impact on campus and students. Frankly, I felt like I was a on a roll. I was on top of the world.
Yet one winter night (it’s always the winter nights that get you), when I was on my haughty high horse, one person stopped me in my tracks. With one simple question. “What is your selfish motivation?”
“I’m going to change…”
“No, David… what is your selfish motivation?“
Flash-forward
Last week, one of my favorite hustlers reached out to me. She was planning to start a newsletter soon and wanted some advice from a fellow writer. After a few exchanges asynchronously, it became apparent that her biggest obstacle was keeping to a schedule. If you’re a frequenter here, you’ll have noticed I’ve already lost all semblance of a schedule other than publishing weekly. Some weeks I publish on Mondays. Others on Tuesdays. Some weeks see two essays. Others only one. But I have yet to lose my streak of publishing weekly. But I digress.
There’s a large graveyard filled with content creators who post ten or less times. Off the cuff, I dare say 90%. Prior to this blog, two of my other blogs were also no stranger to the obituary.
So, I posed the same question that stumped me all those years back. What is your selfish motivation?
What is your selfish motivation?
Most people, especially in the realm of entrepreneurship, job interviews, politics, and PR stunts, share their selfless motivations. Everyone’s a Samaritan. While there is some truth to it, everyone needs a really good selfish motivation.
On your best days, if your project is doing really well and you’re absolutely crushing it, your selfless motivation will be what you tell the latest press release, your cousins over the holidays – the story you pitch to others. The story you also tell yourself to give your job meaning. But on your worst days, when you want to give up, your selfish motivation is what’ll keep you going. When you’re at your worst, you won’t want to care for others. You care about yourself. What’ll keep you sane? If your selfish North Star isn’t strong enough, it’s easy to give up.
You need both. Your selfless motivation will help you reach for the stars. Your selfish motivation will prevent you from hitting rock bottom.
For example, for this blog, my selfless motivations are:
Democratizing access to resources and education to help people move the world’s economy forward,
Empowering founders to not fall through the same potholes I or other founders fell through – to make new mistakes not old, and
Empowering and inspiring others to live more enriching lives.
It’s what I tell others. My lofty goal that’ll make writing this blog meaningful to me.
On the other hand, my selfish motivations are:
I write to think. My thoughts are so much clearer on paper than if I just speak them. If I don’t write things down, I’m a mess.
I forget things easily. Short term memory loss. And my blog is a way for me to catalogue my own learnings.
I feel much more comfortable being vulnerable with strangers than with friends. So my blog helps me relieve much of my stress and anxiety.
I am neither as good as people say I am nor as bad as people say I am. This blog keeps me honest.
In closing
That same winter night was the day of the winter equinox. I don’t mean to dramatize my little anecdote, but I nevertheless I do find it provides a little flavor to the story.
“No, David… what is your selfish motivation?”
“I don’t follow.”
“I ask every officer candidate this question. There will be days that you will hate the job more than you will love it. And I need to know if you have it in you to weather those days.”
I don’t remember what I told him that night. I don’t think it was a particularly honest answer. Or maybe I was honest. But it wasn’t enough. I didn’t get his vote of confidence, but I did enough legwork to get the approval of others.
In the end, I got the position. And he was right. Times got tough. There were days I hated the job. And on those days, in particular, I didn’t do anything remotely close to “changing the organization and its impact on campus.”
#unfiltered is a series where I share my raw thoughts and unfiltered commentary about anything and everything. It’s not designed to go down smoothly like the best cup of cappuccino you’ve ever had (although here‘s where I found mine), more like the lonely coffee bean still struggling to find its identity (which also may one day find its way into a more thesis-driven blogpost). Who knows? The possibilities are endless.
Stay up to date with the weekly cup of cognitive adventures inside venture capital and startups, as well as cataloging the history of tomorrow through the bookmarks of yesterday!
Seemingly, everyone these days – from Twitter to podcasts to blogposts (including mine) – talk about buying and investing in startups. What are best practices for investment theses? How do I pick the best companies to invest in? Conversely, how do I get picked or get allocation into hot startups? But people rarely seem to be talking about selling positions. So, if you know me, I hit up two of the smartest people I know – one early-stage, the other growth-stage. Both of whom might be familiar faces on this blog. So I asked them:
How do you think about selling a position? How much does DPI matter for your investors?
The below insights include minor edits for clarity.
The notice that you’ve all seen a million times
None of this is investment advice. This content is for informational purposes only, and should not be relied upon as legal, business, investment, or tax advice. Please consult your own adviser before making any investments.
Shawn Merani (Parade Ventures)
Shawn was instrumental in my early career growth in venture. When I met him years ago, he was still running Flight Ventures, where he wrote early checks into Dollar Shave Club and Cruise Automation and was one of the first syndicates on AngelList. There he led a network-based model of syndicate leads, which I’ve heard been described by others as a “venture partner program on steroids.” Now he’s the solo GP at Parade Ventures, a seed stage venture fund investing in enterprise-themed companies.
“I would preface all of this with the fact we have never fully exited a position before a traditional liquidity event, but more so, have managed our position given the duration of our ownership and to generate returns for our LPs and manage risk.
“We talk to founders all the time, and foster a relationship that grows. When I was writing check sizes for 1-5% of ownership, my engagement then is very different from my engagement with founders now, where we take more concentrated bets.
“When it comes to selling, it’s about influence and information. The larger our ownership, the more information we have access to. And if a company is doing well, we don’t think about selling. In fact, it’s the exact opposite; we buy more. If things are working, we take our pro rata. In some cases, we take more than my ownership target. And founders are willing since we’ve been helping them from the beginning. We know when there’s going to be a 3-4x uptick every 12-18 months. Compounding is powerful.
“Our investors back the fund because they trust us. They don’t talk to the founders as often as we do. They trust our decision when we say we should buy more or keep our shares. There are two ways to talk about DPI:
1. Making money for your current investors, and 2. Telling the story.
“Selling is really a case-by-case scenario, and it really depends on my relationship with the founder. All the equity in which I sold so far has been before Parade. But if we know the company is doing well, we buy more. There are also holding periods to consider under QSBS, which has huge tax benefits.”
For those that are unfamiliar with the terminology, DPI means distributions to paid-in capital. Effectively, how much money you actually return to your investors versus “paper returns”. QSBS, or qualified small business stock, tax exemption allows investors in qualified businesses to avoid 100% of the capital gains tax incurred if they hold their stock for more than 5 years.
Ratan Singh (Fort Ross Ventures)
I posed the same question to someone I’ve been a huge fan of the day I met him – Ratan Singh, Partner at Fort Ross Ventures. He’s an investor in some of the most recognizable businesses today, including the likes of Rescale and Clearcover, as well as holds board seats at Blueshift and Ridecell. You may remember Ratan from a previous essay about speed as a competitive advantage for investors. And you’ll likely see him a lot more on this blog. He summed it up best in our chat when he said, “There are two reasons why an investor needs to care about DPI: time horizon and fund strategy.” Both of which are variables, not constants, between early- and growth-stage investments.
“The true metric at the end of the day is DPI. DPI is turning in money to your investors. And there are two reasons why an investor needs to care about DPI: time horizon and fund strategy.
“Let’s start with time horizon. For a seed stage fund, as you get close to the end of your fund cycle, that’s when DPI matters. What type of vintage is the fund in? In 2021, it’s going to be the 2010 and 2011 funds.
“For the majority of the time, you want to ride your winners. At the end of your time horizon, ask for a one- to two-year extension. Usually LPs want more money or their shares distributed. They’ve already waited 10 years. Two more won’t make a difference, especially if you have some big fund returners in the making.
“For fund strategy, did you meet the objectives for your LPs already? If you have, and you want to sell some of your winnable deals in your portfolio to help raise your Fund II because those are the same LPs that would re-up in your next fund, then you might consider selling.
“The worst reason to sell is that you want to take the wins you currently have since you think the market is overvalued. ‘I’m at the peak.’ Or ‘I want to take chips off the table because there’s something bad that will happen, but that is very hard to predict.’
“There were a bunch of funds at the beginning of this year that sold their entire positions. They were desperate to lock in a win. They sold because they thought the market was at the top. And, they were wrong. I’m against it. Selling early doesn’t fully realize the strategy you have put forth. For us, at the growth stage, we shoot for 48 months to an exit. If it takes longer, did we underwrite it wrong? But even if it does, the case may be that the company is growing a little slower than expected.
“At the early stage, all funds will say 2 to 3x cash-on-cash in the LP presentation. Most funds return 1 to 1.5x, on average, with most funds total DPI at 1.2 to 1.5x, which barely returns the fund. Before your time horizon, everyone likes to cite unrealized gains and mark ups because TVPI’s all they have.
“DPI matters most for funds in the top quartile – the top returners, funds with more than $500 million, or nowadays, $1 billion mega-funds. For the bottom majority of funds, early DPI won’t matter. They would be limiting their upside.
Author’s Note: Notice that 65% of financings lost money for their investors. Source: Correlation Ventures
“The new interesting commentary is that – where the job is getting harder – a lot of crossover funds are making binary bets. Finding the one deal that’s the next Salesforce – the next industry-defining company. And putting a lot of capital to find that one or two companies. Tiger and Coatue, still maintain that 10-12% IRR, but spend a lot to find the company that’ll be the next Databricks. Every generation has their industry-defining companies. And, they’re willing to lose it all to find that one.
“You usually don’t see this at the growth stage. It’s bad for innovation. Everyone is trying to find investments that are scaling. 1000 investments in the past year became unicorns. And there are 3000+ unicorns. Yet, the top five to seven companies are still undercapitalized.”
In closing
As we closed the selling part of our conversation, Ratan shared a great quote from an Economist article:
“Flush with cash amid a deal frenzy, what is the industry to do? One option would be to liquidate portfolios, that is, to sell more assets than it buys, in effect trying to cash in some chips when prices are high. As yet, however, this does not seem to be happening. Take the figures for three big managers, Blackstone, Carlyle and KKR. So far this year for every $1 of assets, in aggregate, that they have sold, they have bought $1.30. Although Carlyle is being more cautious than the other two firms, these figures indicate that the industry overall thinks the good times will roll on.”
In fairness, as the saying goes, the high risk, high reward. Data does show that the funds with the greatest track records have more deals that lose money than those make them more money than they invested.
Interestingly enough, there’s also a huge differential between the world’s most valuable and most funded startups. According to Founder Collective, “the most valuable companies raised half as much capital and produced nearly 4X the value!” All of which echo Ratan’s words. “The top five to seven companies are still undercapitalized.”
The public often looks towards invested capital as a proxy of startup performance. But the data suggests that isn’t the case. In the words of the team at Founder Collective, “capital has no insights.” One of my favorite lines from Ashmeet Sidana of Engineering Capitalframes it is still: “A company’s success makes a VC’s reputation; a VC’s success does not make a company’s reputation.”
But when DPI boils down to selling on multiples at the end of the day, I often reference Samir Kaji‘s tweet on the return hurdles expected of different stages of investors. As you might guess, the return expectations of each type of fund varies based on fund strategy.
Since it was asked, return hurdles for LPs are for different types of funds:
Nano-Fund (<$20MM)- 5-7X+ Traditional Seed Fund – 3-5X+ Series A: 3X+ Growth – 2-2.5X+ Crossover/late growth – IRR driven – 10-12%+
As all things in the world, exiting is just as nuanced and complicated as entering. Hopefully, the above insights will be another set of tools for your toolkit.
If this essay has inspired more questions, here are some further reading materials, courtesy of Ratan:
Thank you Shawn and Ratan for reading over early drafts.
Stay up to date with the weekly cup of cognitive adventures inside venture capital and startups, as well as cataloging the history of tomorrow through the bookmarks of yesterday!
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.
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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!
From market risk to product risk to execution risk, I’ve written many a time the types of risks a founder takes, including here, here, and here. As well as shared that the first and foremost question founders need to answer is: What is the biggest risk of this business? Subsequently, is the person who can solve the biggest risk of this business in the room (or on the team slide)?
Over the weekend, I heard an incredible breakdown of the other side of the table. Rather than the founder, the three types of risks an investor takes. The same of which need to be addressed for LPs to invest. From Kanyi Maqubela on Venture Unlocked.
Market risk as a function of ownership
Judgment risk
Win rate risk
Market risk as a function of ownership
If you’re investing in an consensus market – be it hot, growing, and is garnering a lot of attention, you don’t need a huge percentage. I mentioned before that every year there are only 20 companies that matter. And the goal of a great VC is to get into one of these 20 companies. Ownership doesn’t matter. Even 1% of a $10B outcome is a solid $100 million.
On the other hand, if you’re in a small or non-consensus market, you need a meaningful ownership to justify your bets. For the same $100 million return, you need to maintain 10% at the time of a unicorn exit.
Going back to economics 101, revenue is price multiplied by quantity. Revenue in this case is your returns, your DPI, or your TVPI. Price is the valuation of the business. Quantity is how much you own in that business. Valuation, as a function of market size, and percent ownership are inversely proportional to reach the same returns. The smaller the market, the more ownership matters. The bigger the market, the less it matters.
Judgment risk
At the top of the funnel, the job of any investor is to pick or to get picked. I’ll take the latter first. Getting picked is often far less risky. But far harder to get allocations for, especially if you’re a fund that has ownership targets, vis a vis the market risk above. At the same time, the larger your check size, the harder it is to squeeze into the round.
To generate alphas from picking, there are two ways:
Get in early.
Go to where everyone else said it’ll rain, but it didn’t. Do the opposite of what people do. That said, being in the non-consensus means you’ll strike out a lot and it’ll be hard to find support.
The question to ask yourself here is: What do you know that other investors are overlooking, underestimating, or altogether not seeing? And how did you reach that conclusion as a function of your experience and analysis?
As Kanyi said on the podcast, “We think we’ve got unusually good judgment and nobody else likes this, but we like it for reasons that are unfair.” The unfair part is key.
Win rate risk
Win rate risk breaks down to what unique advantage you, as an investor, bring to the table that will help the company win. In simpler terms, what is your value add? Of the businesses you say “yes” to, can you increase the number of those who win? As an early-stage investor – angel or VC, there are four main ways an investor can help founders:
Access to downstream capital or capital from strategic investors
Access to talent – How can you increase the output of the business?
Sales pipeline – How can you help grow revenue directly?
Strategy – Do you have unique insight into the industry, business model, product, GTM, or team management that will meaningfully move the business forward?
In closing
If you’re an investor, I hope you found the above as useful of a reframing as I did. If you’re a founder reading this, I often find it useful to stand in the shoes of your investors. And in understanding how your investors think, you can better formulate your pitch that’ll align your collective incentives.
The conversation around risk management, at the end of the day, is a conversation of prevention. A realm of prevention while useful to hedge your bets is a strategy to not lose. It’ll help your LPs find comfort in investing dollars into you. But to truly stand as a signal above the rest and to win, you have to look where other investors aren’t. The non-obvious. Specifically the non-obvious that’ll become obvious one day. And you have to do so consistently.
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!
