My brain has been particularly jittery the last couple weeks, seemingly overflowing with a rush of personal and professional topics that seem both urgent and important. Increased demands have kept me away from writing, but these are usually the moments when it’s most helpful to do so.
My life would be considerably simpler if I took a full-time job. It’s fair to occasionally reassess why I’m subjecting myself (and my partner) to a risky, stressful bet. At the core of that question lies another. Beyond meeting basic needs - something I’m fortunate to be able to achieve with most of my career options - what am I really looking for out of my work and career?
Gorillas wasn’t the most important mission - delivering groceries is less critical than, say, crafting and implementing a digital strategy at The New York Times. But I can safely say I helped shape Gorillas, a feeling I did not have at The New York Times (or BCG, for that matter). Perhaps I was too junior to make that type of lasting impact, but I’m also too impatient to wait to be in a position to do so.
Recently, Getir announced the company was exiting all markets outside of Turkey. Having previously bought Gorillas, Getir’s withdrawal also signaled the end of the Gorillas brand, which was still operating in Germany. It also meant that the impact of the work I did for Gorillas - across Germany, the Netherlands, the UK, France, and the US - had ended.
Which leaves an interesting paradox to consider: on the one hand, I played a major role in shaping Gorillas, in helping serve customers across several countries for many years. On the other hand, it doesn’t exist anymore: nobody else will be served by the work I did.
Of course, very few companies get to serve customers over a long time period. Half of all businesses (not just venture-backed ones) fail within five years. The stark reality of business failure has almost flipped the equation: while the north star may be to build something lasting, it’s likely that the current effort won’t be the career-defining one. In other words, much of the work we do over our career is necessarily finite.
Founders - especially first-time founders - have a hard time recognizing this reality. Many completely realign their identity with their startup’s. I did something similar at Gorillas, but I found out what nearly everyone does at some point: my career will be much longer than I may fully realize right now.
For founders, company obsession is a requisite (though not sufficient) condition for success. Their entire mental energy can and should be devoted to helping their startup win. But in their financial life, founders should strive to be more objective, which requires temporarily decoupling from their startup. They should view their wealth - mostly the equity they’ve accrued in their startup - something closer to an investment decision.
In my last post, I talked deeply about the problem I want to solve: Founders deserve more options to manage their wealth in a way that aligns with their financial goals. I’m now sharing a bit on the solution: a way for founders to take more control of their financial lives and prepare themselves for the volatility and uncertainty of the venture capital power law. Founders are the engine of entrepreneurship but are shut out from participating in the broader value generated by the venture asset class. We’re changing that.
And by meandering from my initial question to the mission of our startup, I’ve also indirectly provided an answer: Like every founder, I want to tackle a problem that matters in a way I’m positioned to solve. The opportunity to help other founders makes the risk and stress feel worth it.