Disrupting disruption with disruptive disruptions since 2010.
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.
Past tense of churning, describing customers who've abandoned ship or accounts that have been excessively traded for commissions. In the startup world, it's the past tense of failure—these are the users who tried your product and decided literally anything else was better. When your investors ask about churned customers, it's never a fun conversation.
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.
A fund agreement clause that allows GPs to reinvest early returns back into new deals rather than distributing them to LPs, extending the fund's effective deployment capacity. A controversial provision that LPs love to scrutinize because it delays their returns.
A group of users who started in the same time period, tracked to see how many stick around. The cruel truth about how fast people abandon your product.
The VC firm that sets the terms and does the heavy lifting in a funding round, while other investors gratefully follow along. Someone has to negotiate while everyone else free-rides.
The reduction in ownership percentage when additional shares are issued, especially painful in a down round where new shares are issued at a lower price. Watching your equity stake shrink while your company's value simultaneously decreases.
A literal plot of dirt prepped for seeds, or metaphorically, any environment ripe for nurturing nascent ideas—like Silicon Valley for startups or your uncle's garage for questionable business ventures. In startup parlance, it's where brilliant innovations and terrible ideas alike take root before anyone can tell which is which. The key difference from an incubator? Seedbeds are cheaper and smell more like actual dirt.
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.
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.
The contractual right of existing investors to lead or participate in the next funding round before the company can seek outside investors. It's a first-look deal built into your cap table.
When a startup prioritizes acquiring recognizable brand-name customers purely for credibility, even if those deals are unprofitable or unsustainable. It's the corporate equivalent of name-dropping at parties.
When a company acquires a startup primarily to shut it down and eliminate competition, rather than to integrate talent or technology. It's the evil twin of acqui-hire where everyone loses except the shareholders.
A financing round where new investors impose harsh terms on existing shareholders who lack the votes to block it. It's democracy in action, if democracy meant 'whoever has the most money wins.'
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.
Building a company with personal savings, credit cards, and stress ulcers instead of venture capital—either a badge of honor or an excuse for slow growth, depending on your exit results. It's entrepreneurship on hard mode.
The VC expectation that founders will make introductions, provide advice, and help other portfolio companies in exchange for investment and support. Networking as a contractual obligation.
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.
The corporate fantasy of growing a business exponentially while somehow maintaining quality, usually uttered right before everything falls apart. It's the process of increasing capacity to handle growth—or in startup speak, the thing you'll figure out later after raising millions in VC funding. In tech, it means making systems handle more users; in reality, it means discovering all the shortcuts you took when building the foundation.
The danger that passing on an investment or accepting certain terms sends negative messages to future investors. In VC, optics matter as much as economics—sometimes you reject money because taking it would look desperate.
The VC's cut of investment profits, typically 20% of gains above a certain return threshold. How general partners get rich while limited partners provide the actual money—the ultimate performance fee.
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.
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.
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.