Disrupting disruption with disruptive disruptions since 2010.
An entrepreneur who returns to start another company after their previous venture was acquired or failed. They're either gluttons for punishment or genuinely addicted to the startup lifestyle.
When a startup seeks a lead investor for their next round who isn't part of their existing investor group, potentially signaling problems or a desire for fresh perspectives. It's the venture capital equivalent of changing friend groups.
A resilient company that survives on minimal resources and refuses to die despite market conditions that would kill competitors. They're scrappy, resourceful, and nearly impossible to eliminate.
Equity allocated to former employees, advisors, or early team members who are no longer contributing to the company but still own shares. It's the corporate equivalent of paying rent for a ghost tenant.
The exhaustion investors feel after reviewing hundreds of pitch decks that all blur together with the same buzzwords and hockey stick projections. It's why your 'revolutionary AI blockchain solution' makes their eyes glaze over.
When a startup gets stuck endlessly perfecting their product demo instead of actually selling to customers or raising funds. It's the entrepreneurial version of rearranging deck chairs on the Titanic.
The degree to which a founder's background, skills, and experience align with the problem they're trying to solve. VCs love backing someone who's lived the pain they're addressing.
Aggressively pursuing market share and user growth at the expense of profitability or unit economics, betting that dominance now will create a moat later. It's monopoly thinking fueled by venture capital.
Emergency financing raised by a struggling startup at unfavorable terms just to avoid immediate shutdown. It's the fundraising equivalent of pulling the ripcord on a failing skydive.
When VCs make investment decisions based on superficial similarities to previous successful startups rather than rigorous analysis. It's why they love Stanford dropouts building social apps in their dorm rooms.
A go-to-market strategy where the product itself drives customer acquisition, retention, and expansion rather than traditional sales teams. Users fall in love before ever talking to a salesperson.
A funding round with complex terms beyond simple equity purchase—such as multiple share classes, ratchets, or unusual liquidation preferences. It's what happens when lawyers earn their retainers.
The adjective slapped on every product, service, and startup pitch deck to signal 'we're doing something allegedly new.' Something innovative is supposed to be groundbreaking and forward-thinking, though these days it often means 'we added AI to it.' If your company isn't innovative, you're basically admitting you're stuck in 2005 with a flip phone.
A provision allowing limited partners to reclaim previously distributed carried interest from GPs if later losses reduce overall fund returns. The nightmare scenario keeping fund managers up at night.
Phantom stock or profit interests that mimic real equity without actually granting ownership, often used to incentivize employees without diluting founders. All the motivation, none of the control.
An experienced entrepreneur or advisor, typically older, who's seen multiple technology cycles and startup failures. They provide wisdom, pattern recognition, and constant reminders that everything has been tried before.
Revenue minus cost of goods sold, expressed as a percentage—the fundamental measure of whether your business model makes sense before accounting for all those pesky operating expenses. VCs want this above 70% for SaaS.
The phase when a startup has proven product-market fit and focuses on scaling revenue, typically raising Series B or C funding. Where dreams of changing the world meet the reality of quarterly revenue targets.
The mythical J-curve trajectory where metrics stay flat forever and then suddenly shoot straight up, resembling a hockey stick. Every founder claims this is coming; few actually achieve it.
A contractual restriction preventing insiders from selling shares after an IPO, typically 90-180 days. Because letting founders dump all their stock on day one would be honest but catastrophic for stock price.
Investment structured to release capital in tranches as the company hits specific targets, giving investors control and founders ulcers. Trust, but verify, but mostly don't trust.
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.
The noble art of convincing individuals, corporations, and foundations to part with their money for your cause, institution, or startup dream. In education, it's what keeps universities building new buildings with donors' names on them. In nonprofits and startups, it's a full-time job disguised as networking events and carefully crafted pitch decks.
The soul-crushing moment when a founder's ownership percentage shrinks because the company issued more shares to new investors. It's weaker coffee, but for equity—you still own shares, they're just worth relatively less of the pie. Every funding round brings this special joy, where you simultaneously celebrate getting money and mourn losing control.