Disrupting disruption with disruptive disruptions since 2010.
A 30-second summary of your startup that you deliver to investors in elevators, coffee lines, and restraining-order-adjacent proximity. If you can't explain your company in the time it takes to ride an elevator, your company is either too complicated or the elevator is too fast.
The plan for how founders and investors will eventually cash out, ranging from IPO to acquisition to quietly shutting down and pretending it never happened. It's planning your escape route before you've even built the building.
The process by which your ownership percentage shrinks with each funding round until you own approximately as much of your company as you own of the Pacific Ocean. It's like splitting a pizza with more and more people, except you baked the pizza and now you get one olive.
Warrants or stock options added as sweetener to a debt deal, giving lenders upside if the company succeeds. Because apparently charging interest isn't enough—they want a piece of the action too.
A sales or fundraising strategy focused exclusively on landing enormous clients or investors rather than building up smaller ones. It's high-risk, high-reward betting where you either feast or starve.
Additional capital raised on the same terms as the previous round (like a Series A-1) rather than progressing to the next stage, buying time without the stigma of a flat or down round. The startup equivalent of taking an incomplete rather than failing the course.
Optimistic individuals who voluntarily choose unemployment with extra steps, convincing themselves that working 80 hours a week for no salary is better than working 40 hours for someone else. They're essentially professional risk-takers who transform caffeine and delusion into businesses, with a success rate that would make a Vegas gambler nervous. Society celebrates them when they succeed and conveniently forgets them when they fail.
A delightfully depressing portmanteau describing the growing army of hustlers who call themselves entrepreneurs but are really just unemployed people with a business card and a prayer. These brave souls combine the precarious instability of gig work with the delusion of startup success, making "founder" sound way better than "between opportunities." Welcome to late-stage capitalism's participation trophy.
The romanticized art of starting businesses, taking risks, and pretending to enjoy working 80-hour weeks for the slim chance of eventual success. It's capitalism's version of the hero's journey, complete with failure, redemption arcs, and way too many LinkedIn posts about "grinding." Business schools teach it, VCs fund it, and most people quit it within three years.
Having the qualities of someone who starts businesses, takes risks, and believes their idea will totally disrupt an industry despite statistical odds suggesting otherwise. It's the adjective form of optimistic delusion mixed with genuine innovation and an unhealthy comfort with uncertainty. Basically, it describes people who see opportunities where normal humans see reasons to keep their day job.
In startup land, the glorious moment when founders and investors finally cash out, either through acquisition or IPO, turning years of ramen dinners and sleepless nights into actual money. It's the entrepreneurial equivalent of winning the lottery, except you had to build the lottery first. Every VC's favorite word and every founder's obsession after their Series A.
A glamorized term for someone who decided that working for themselves would be less stressful than having a boss (spoiler: they were wrong). These brave or foolish souls start their own ventures, risking everything from savings to sanity in pursuit of the dream of being their own boss and working only 80 hours a week instead of 40. Every LinkedIn bio now includes this word because 'unemployed but optimistic' doesn't have the same ring to it.
A deferred payment structure in an acquisition where sellers receive additional money only if the business hits specific milestones post-sale. It's how acquirers say 'we believe your projections!' while quietly not paying for them upfront.
Raising capital from numerous small investors through online platforms, democratizing access to startup investment and the opportunity to lose money on early-stage companies. Kickstarter, but instead of getting a T-shirt, you get illiquid securities.
Raising capital by selling ownership stakes in the company rather than borrowing money. It's the fundamental bargain of venture capital: you get money now, investors get a piece of your future success (or failure).