Disrupting disruption with disruptive disruptions since 2010.
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.
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.
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.
Serviceable Addressable Market—the portion of TAM you can realistically reach with your business model and resources; basically TAM divided by reality.
Large corporations that businesses try to sell to—known for 9-month sales cycles, multiple stakeholder sign-offs, and IT departments that say 'we'll think about it' for years.
An independent contractor hired on a project basis rather than as a full-time employee. Startups use them to avoid benefits/taxes, contractors love them for flexibility.
The attempt to prove you weren't just lucky with Series A and that your unit economics actually work at scale.
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.
A fundraising approach where a startup accepts investor commitments and transfers shares on multiple dates instead of a single closing. It's like a progressive dinner party for term sheets.
Moving to build or sell products at higher layers of technology infrastructure, typically where margins are better and you're further from commoditized infrastructure. The opposite of down-stack, and usually more profitable.
The magical period where startup founders burn through investor cash while "validating their business model," ostensibly nurturing their fledgling company from idea to viable business. Like hatching eggs, except the eggs cost millions of dollars and most of them produce nothing. Incubators and accelerators love this word because it makes burning money sound scientific and inevitable.
The magical property where your product becomes more valuable as more people use it—or what every social startup claims to have despite zero evidence. True network effects are rarer than honest user growth numbers.
Restructuring that gives early investors and employees liquidity without selling the company, like a pressure release valve for cap table tension. An exit without the exit.
An internal document where VCs justify their investment thesis to partners, typically written with supreme confidence that will be mocked at the next downturn. The receipts for future 'I told you so' moments.
The reduction in founders' ownership percentage that occurs each time the company raises money or issues new equity. It's the slow, inevitable erosion of ownership that founders signed up for when they took outside capital.
The startup world's polite euphemism for cashing out and abandoning ship, ideally with a massive payday that makes all those 80-hour weeks seem worthwhile. Can range from a glorious IPO or acquisition to quietly shutting down operations while pretending you 'pivoted to consulting.' It's the entrepreneurial equivalent of checking out of a hotel, except you're either leaving with millions or owing money to everyone you know.
The messy dissolution of a startup partnership, romantic relationship, or team dynamic—often marked by awkward equity discussions, passive-aggressive Slack messages, and lawyers getting involved.
Shaping materials with specialized equipment, or—in startup-speak—'getting the factory ready before we realize we can't afford it.' The expensive setup phase nobody budgets correctly for.
A limit on how much an investor's ownership can be diluted by future funding rounds. Basically the investor saying 'screw everyone who comes after me.'
A clause letting preferred investors double-dip by getting their liquidation preference back AND participating in the remaining proceeds with common shareholders. It's having your cake, eating it too, and taking a slice of everyone else's.
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.
The moment when something new is officially unleashed upon the world, whether it's a product, company, or ship sliding into water. In business and tech, launches involve coordinated marketing campaigns, press releases, and the collective hope that people will actually care. It's the corporate equivalent of a grand opening, complete with champagne (or energy drinks, depending on the industry).
Moving to build or sell products at a lower layer of the technology infrastructure, typically where margins are thinner but the market is larger. Often happens when companies realize their original niche is too small.
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.