Miles To Go.

Xin’s Thoughtful Gift: PBJ and Ramen 2

Being an entrepreneur is a lumpy business at best. And while I’ve written extensively about the mortality rate (95%), I’ve never written about how hard it is along the way for those 5% destined for greatness.

It ain’t easy, and it ain’t easy on everyone.

This is a basket of Ramen Noodles and Peanut Butter, presented on my Birthday by a very appropriate, thoughtful entrepreneur I backed; Xin Chung. Xin certainly has the moral authority to present the gift: he was liberated from Saigon as a child, spent time in an internment camp, and grew up in Valdez Alaska before settling in to SoCal and pursuing his dreams as an entrepreneur. He is now Founder and CEO of TrustCloud which has emerged from a “walk in the wilderness” with 10k passionate users and a growing number of interested clients in the social check space.

The Ramen and PBJ is our shorthand for being capital efficient, a must for start-ups.

My system at Vaux usually provides $250k of less for a team to develop a product that addresses a meaningful market problem, and do it within 90 days or so. This means most for the proceeds are dedicated to product. The next $250k usually goes to determining if anyone cares. The numbers vary, but either way the Founders and early employees do not get rich in salaries off of angel money. Frankly, they have to be prepared to barely eat, and when they do eat for strength. This is part of the ugly underbelly – and not a full underbelly! – of the dedication it takes to pursue your dreams. Every dollar you don’t waste can go to a better product or a better viral coefficient.

And of course, stuff takes longer than you expect. And costs more money than planned. This puts tons of pressure on the entrepreneurs as they debate the next crucial steps, often on an empty stomach. Probably once in my last 10 start-ups has a company got it right, right out of the box and kept doubling down all the way. Most try with a product, revamp, try again, tweak, and try again until there’s no track left. And it leads to some very difficult conversations about where to invest precious resources: make the product better and more people will come… or tell more people about the product and they will spread the word. Development vs. Marketing vs. Biz Dev. It often provokes difficult conversations, and sometimes desperate measures (these guys slept in a van on a Biz Dev road trip that lasted months).

And so the entrepreneurs themselves, while pursuing their dreams of autonomy, making a mark on the universe and yes winning riches, have to absorb the vagaries of what precious resources to assign where… including their own sustenance. I get queasy when I hear comparisons to the comp someone could make in the corporate world, which simply doesn’t apply in start-up-ville. And I get nauseous when I hear debates about how deep down the rabbit hole start-ups should go pursuing the next pivot (which is another term for fail and try again). Luckily  angels don’t have that much patience or that much capital for endless restarts. Which is why, when interviewing prospective partners I always look for that unique combination of resourcefulness, willingness and mental toughness that will see us through. And a dose of reality to know when to put a fork in it.

Entrepreneurship is not a straight line to the summit, it’s a jagged ascent and we have to be prepared for the whole ascent not just the sprint at the top.

~~

Save runway: TrustCloud’s sample T&E guidelines

Use personal credit card; expense every month with invoice. Avg trip: 2nts/3days, $800, $1000max

1. Air: economy $250

2. Ground:  $25/day

3. Lodging: Airbnb $50/nt

4. Entertainment: $75/day

5. Badges: pre-approved

6. Big dinners: pre-approved

Compo Beach Volley. The serve was in...

Beach volleyball taught me something very valuable in angel investing: how to guess.

I’ve been playing since the mid-90′s, when I discovered an open court in Aruba and fell in with an old Choate pal, Nick Webb, who ran Connecticut’s largest tourneys at Sherwood Island. For those not familiar, beach volleyball is a game of two-on-two, played on a regulation sand court. The balls are served and slammed at incredible velocity, and the reaction times are akin to those of a  baseball player at bat. There’s nowhere to hide, and only one partner to save you. Many volleys take a Herculean effort to keep alive; no wonder most beach volley players end up in pretty good shape.

One great example is defensing a good hitter. My partner would generally block, meaning he would be up in the air roughly covering one-fourth of the court, and unable to further adjust. This left the remaining 650 square feet of sand to me, an entirely indefensible area when the ball is coming at you at 120 mph. And even if you are in the right spot, you have to have your hands in the right place to even have a prayer of digging the ball.

Sounds hopeless, right?

But as the years roll by, one thing emerges that saves you : how to read the subtleties of the game and use them to Guess Well.

In beach volleyball, there are a ton of subtle hints that inform your guess while defensing a slam: how tired is this guy? What did he do to win the point last time? Does he look up (and see me) before he jumps? Does his partner scan the court and tip him off? Is he young and prone to swinging as hard as he can, or is he wily and likely to try some slop shot?  How high does he jump and at what angle can he hit the ball down? Was my partner able to block him earlier? Was his approach clean or not? How close to the net is the set? Would this slam be the game winner?

Answer these questions instantaneously and you can make a pretty informed guess as to which few square feet the ball is heading into and at what speed and arc. Arrive there in time to dig the smash and you look like a magic lightning-cat capable of tracking down anything on the court. Dig a few in a row this way, and you really have an advantage.

Likewise, there are a ton of reads in backing successful entrepreneurs- none of which I am going to give away today. Most of them are imperceptible to the untrained eye. But they are huge clues to making good guesses, and if you can read them well, you can cover a lot of court.

Editors note: The Compo Beach volleyball courts still among the best in Southern Connecticut.  Come by and see what real beach volleyball means- at least on the East Coast. (We know the gods live and play in Los Angeles and Rio).

Coordinates
» Compo Beach, Westport, CT

...and a popular one at that.

If you are lucky enough to see this place it will teach you quite a bit about the French, which is to say, 1) they assign hilarious import on meaningless things, 2) they only follow rules if it will inconvenience someone or make something into a farce, 3) sex sells, 4) it all ends up with stunning beauty. And remember, I love France, and the French. Onward?

Pere La Chaise is a vast cemetery on the far eastern side of Paris proper named after ”Father Chair”, a priest of no consequence except that Louis XIV, France’s greatest King, unloaded on him just before expiring. Seems the cardinal had stepped out just as Louis took a turn for the worse, and there was Father Chair to hear surely one of the great last confessions of all time. He then became ?the man who knew all the secrets?, as far as France was concerned. Voila, instant fame and glory. Three hundred years later, on the plaques of every door of the Cemetery, begins the phrase ”Pere la Chaise, last confessor to Louis XIV”? I think I have proved point #1 above without going on.

Of the twenty cemeteries in Paris, Pere-Lachaise is the most famous, it has over 70,000 plots and receives some two million visitors a year from all over the world. With 44 hectares and 5,300 trees, Pere-Lachaise is also the largest park in Paris. One inside the gates, one finds a stunning display of early 19th century mini-architecture and crypt design. Each alley is flanked with majestic horse chestnuts, the walks are all cobblestone, and the crypts themselves are marvels of taste and style. With the possible exception of Disneyland, no-one has ever done miniature so consistently. Of course, this magic kingdom is real limestone, granite and marble. If you are lucky enough to get a sunny day, it is a tremendous place for a quiet walk. For the more directed, there awaits a grave hunt with some very fun and famous artsy names to seek out: Chopin, Edith Piaf, Jim Morrison. Wait a minute.

Here is a place that hasn’t taken new arrivals (except cremations) for years now. And double forget it if you are not French or loved by the French. So what is Jim doing here? (If you really believe he is dead). Well, simply refer to rule#2 above. The commissar decided it would be a hoot to let Jim join the other pillars of French culture, so there he is, down in Map plot #31. Americans and stoners alike have scrawled Jim this way>>> and Come light my fire>>>> in many of the tombs en route, so it’s an easy find. Indeed, he seems to have actually been able to break on through to the other side. No word yet on coming back. We’ll keep you posted.

Meantime, it’s up the hill to the main parade ground where we can, in an instant, prove rule #3. Seems a very young couple met an untimely death in the middle of the prior century. Legend has it they were flush with love in the springtime when the unlucky demise ended their days on earth. But the power of their love seems to live on. You see, it has become legend that a visit to these graves and a touch of strategic parts of the departed’s statuary (to my eye, I’d say rubbing is more like it) will restore one’s procreative powers. No word on what it does to the deceased, but that is the shiniest brass in Pere la Chaise.

Pere la Chaise has it all. Stunning beauty, silliness, culture, irreverence, and superstition. You decide which applies to what.

If you go
» Pere la Chaise History

Rottweiler extraordinaire Netscape came to her end, taking it with dignity and grace. Much like Mom did last year. (Where does this courage come from?) I’ve noticed that the number of my friends on the other side of the golden reeds has been growing. I could have hardly made a list ten years ago. Now I have plenty of friends there, and more new ones keeping getting added. I just never know when, or who with any certainty. One point Dad made rings true, if you have friends on both sides, it’s not so lonely a passing.

I’ve also taken the summer to teach my wacky niece to scuba dive (way under age) in the pool out back. I gave her a short course on the dangers and excitement of being underwater, an we take a tank down to share. If you want to see the definition of wide eyes, check out an eight year old when she breathes underwater the first time. We mostly play ”coins of the world” or tic-tac-toe until the air runs low. As always, we plan our dive, dive the plan, check our air, and ascend with no complaints when it’s over.

When I first began to dive, it was all about the gauges. How much air is left? What’s our depth. How far am I from my buddies if I have an issue?. How is my buoyancy? My equalization? My BCV? Where’s the boat? How far did we drift? How are my dive partners faring? How much air again, and again and again. I was running so many calculations and working so hard, I would blow through 3,000 psi in 35 minutes and be done.

Of course, I was in the Galapagos getting the crap scared out of me by hammerheads, bulls, white tips, thermo climes and nasty surges, so that sucked up some extra air as well.

But somewhere around dive #50, I hit a very different zone. My skills improved to the point of being quite natural with what was quite foreign during dive #10. I now know I have 55 minutes under, because that is generally the boat rule. And I know that time can be cut short anytime if something goes bad. The choice I do have is what I accomplish when down there. If I do all the things a good diver does, I have 55 minutes of pure bliss in the most beautiful natural habitat on the earth, the sea. I can fill my time with as much exploring, learning and observing as I can take. So I don’t complain when time is up, and we ascend to the surface. (The calming affects of nitrogen absorption may help a little as well).

So, why is a life to be so different than a dive? We all have a timer on us. We all jump in knowing one day were out of air and headed back to the boat. It really boils down to what we make of our dive. Gauges are important, but they are not the reason we dive. We dive to learn, to explore, and to enjoy. My mom would sometimes say ?it is not the number of breaths you take, but the number of times your breath is taken away?. Indeed.

If you go
» Suunto, if you need a gauge
» Captain Saam, if you want a great, over the top instructor

The French will outlive us. And I have figured out why.

They may smoke like chimneys, drink wine incessantly, not really exercise except for la boule, eat foi gras, mandate 35 hour work weeks, five weeks of vacances and have 650 varieties of cheese. But, despite what would appear to be unhealthy in every regard, they have actually perfected the art of just not really caring too much about anything. Which means, they will whistle right pass our heart attack ridden fifties and our stress induced weak sixties to outlive us well into their eighties and beyond. They get to the finish in style, while appearing to do all the wrong things along the way.

This reminds me of a horserace I was at recently in Longchamp. Stay with me.

My friends at Quarterback, (yes, they named it after American Football- they confuse the French as much as “Vaux les ventures” confuses Americans!) host the Prix D’Honneur each year. And the horses run backwards, much like the French approach life itself! But, lets go back a bit…

The infield tent at the Pd’H was a model of French hospitality. The food was special, the wine was sublime, and the people were a total blast. Contrary to popular belief, they do not hate Americans, at least not this one. We hit it off with Gauthier’s friends marvelously, and I got to watch each of the races- backwards, bien sur- from the finish line on the infield grass.

But as it is in so many other corners of the world, it was the people that made the mark on me. Parisian, most of them (and so being the most uptight of the French people) But even in a business setting, and this was all business they were able to enjoy themselves as I rarely see in America. Maybe they have peaked as a country in culture, food, wine, art, architecture. Maybe they have begun to coast. But who cares. Much like I was reminded in Egypt, who did for it for a few thousand years, these guys were on a hot streak for a long time. They deserve a little time off. And they seem to be making the best of it.

One treat of the day was the Republican Guard, a holdover from the time of Kings (the Musketeers are no-longer I guess). Before the big race, they canter up and blow horns in front of the royal box. Not being a royal,. I have an unobstructed view of the asses of 30 horses. Which is when I notice they shave a check board logo on the hindquarters (of the horses- not the guards!)? Gauthier brought out some more wine, lit a cigar (and was surprised I didn’t join him). We watched last bit of sun fall over the grandstand and knew we had lived a moment.

The final race was testament to my thesis. It started from the wrong side of the track, and the horses ran the entire race the wrong way, that is to me clockwise. And it occurred to me, they were just like the French. They got to the finish line, backwards and in good form. Like the French, I suppose, the horses did all the right things for all the wrong reasons. But they got there, just the same.

Which is why French horses run backwards and Frenchmen live so long: how you get there is not such serious business, it’s knowing what is really important that counts.

That, and betting on Joie de Vivre at 13:1.

Oui, c’est vrai!

If you go
» Prix D’Honneur
» Roland Garros
   Brasserie Balzar

I was lucky enough to be back in France for some beautiful early summer weather and I got to witness something truly interesting- to me anyways. The ball boys/girls at the French Open are absolutely fantastic in their economy of motion and their effectiveness. I don’t know who trains these kids, but I think they should consider a higher calling. Let me explain.

Roland Garros in the late spring is not shabby. Set in the Bois de Boulogne (woods) on the western fringe of Paris, the tennis center is tucked neatly into a few lush hectares that are made all the better by the hospitality provided by my friends at Quarterback.fr. This year’s tourney saw a vicious quarterfinal match between Murat Safin, a strapping Russian and fan favorite (most teenage Russian girls live in Paris these days) and a less loved- for no good reason- Italian named Starace. The match went five sets, and into the twilight. Each of us wondered whether darkness would prevail over all. And then I began watching the ball boys do their work. It was art.

I guess tennis players are temperamental, so everything is designed to serve them, alas. I have not seen any better service from tuxedoed staff in four star restaurants! Of the six boys stationed on the court (two behind each service lines, two at the net), none were in sight of the players at any time during play. None made any movement. Then, when a point was over, the service line boys would hold balls aloft so as to bounce them perfectly into the waiting racket of the server. No nod from the server- no ball. Server frown for a moment- boy runs with towel to dry server. Boys at net clean errant balls from area immediately. Boys on serve receive side do likewise, clearing service debris with a minimum of motion and maximum of efficiency. And, end of game, balls are transferred with a unique speed rolling technique to other side. I’m sure I was only observing half the idiosyncrasies. But they had reached the pinnacle of what Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi calls “the Way” in his book FLOW (a great read BTW). It embodies the highest effectiveness at any task, so much so that the pursuit is pure pleasure.

But to me, it was a flow experience. These kids were so into it, and so good at what they did, I totally disregarded the end of the five set battle royale. It reminded me of one of my life pursuits, which is finding flow in as many things as possible. I highly recommend the book, as well as the practice. Paris in may ain’t hateful either.