Disrupting disruption with disruptive disruptions since 2010.
Any exchange of goods, services, or money, elevated to sound more important when preceded by 'business' or followed by 'cost.' In startup world, it's the holy grail metric that proves people are actually using your product for its intended purpose rather than just kicking the tires. VCs obsess over transaction volume, transaction value, and transaction frequency as if counting exchanges of value will somehow predict the future.
A funding event that technically keeps a struggling startup alive but doesn't provide enough capital or momentum to actually succeed. Life support masquerading as investment.
An investment strategy of making many small bets across a wide portfolio, hoping a few massive winners will compensate for numerous failures—essentially portfolio construction as gambling. The scatter-shot approach favored by funds who believe they can't predict winners.
The practice of revaluing portfolio companies to reflect current fair market value rather than cost basis, theoretically providing accurate fund performance but practically involving educated guesses and wishful thinking. Quarterly existential crisis as an accounting process.
The first real money a startup receives from external investors, typically ranging from $500K to $2M, given in exchange for equity to entrepreneurs brave (or delusional) enough to think their idea will change the world. This is the stage where your pitch deck matters more than your product, and your co-founder's LinkedIn connections matter more than your revenue. Named 'seed' because most of these investments will never grow into anything, much like actual seeds.
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.
The driving force or stimulus that gets something moving, whether it's a business initiative, social movement, or your motivation to finally start that side project. In startup land, it's whatever convinces founders they can disrupt an industry, usually a personal pain point or too much coffee. Think of it as the corporate equivalent of "what sparked this terrible/brilliant idea?"
The total value returned to investors divided by the total amount invested, ignoring time. It's the simple, honest metric that tells you whether you made or lost money, period.
A single slide in a pitch deck, often discussing one specific aspect of the business in vague, aspirational terms.
A startup accelerator that funds, mentors, and networks early-stage companies for 3 months. Getting into YC is simultaneously a blessing and the quickest way to become overconfident.
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.
The privilege to attend board meetings without voting power, typically granted to smaller investors or advisors. All the tedious meetings with none of the actual authority—basically a corporate internship.
Venture funds started by former Tiger Global partners or investors, inheriting their aggressive growth-at-all-costs investment philosophy. They're the offspring that learned well from their parent's playbook.
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 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.
An operating style where founders maintain deep involvement in company details rather than delegating everything to managers. Popularized by Paul Graham as a counterpoint to conventional management wisdom that says CEOs should stay hands-off.
A venture fund that's technically alive but has stopped making new investments, usually because performance is so bad that raising a follow-on fund is impossible. It shambles along, managing existing investments until the limited partnership agreement expires.
The glossy sales document that makes every investment opportunity look like the next Amazon and every university look like Hogwarts, carefully balanced between legal obligation and marketing fantasy. In startup land, it's the formal document that transforms 'three guys in a garage with an app idea' into 'disruptive technology platform poised for exponential growth.' Every prospectus contains enough disclaimers to absolve everyone of everything while somehow still convincing you to hand over your money.
When a startup 'grows up' from an accelerator program or moves from seed to institutional funding, like leaving college but with more awkward Demo Days. Implies you're now playing with the big kids.
The return of capital to limited partners when a fund exits an investment, either as cash or occasionally as stock, representing the magical moment when paper gains become real money. The VC equivalent of actually getting your lottery winnings instead of just holding a ticket.
The speed at which a venture fund invests its committed capital, often scrutinized as a metric of both deal flow quality and fund discipline. Too slow suggests weak deal flow; too fast suggests poor judgment and FOMO.
Fake stock that feels like ownership but isn't, giving employees the illusion of having skin in the game without actual legal rights. It's participation trophy capitalism.
Options for investors to purchase additional equity at a predetermined price, typically sweetening deals when a startup is desperate or when investors have serious FOMO about missing upside. The financial equivalent of a rain check.
Selling existing shares to other investors rather than the company issuing new shares, allowing early shareholders to get liquid without diluting anyone. The financial equivalent of sneaking out the back door.