Don’t bother with symlinks in Windows 7

November 14th, 2010

Yes, in theory, Windows has rocketed into the 21st century with symbolic links. However, you can’t make them in Windows 7 unless you’re an Administrator, or unless you manage to give yourself “SeCreateSymbolicLinkPrivilege.”

Giving yourself this privilege is possible with Professional/Ultimate versions of Windows, but not Home Premium, via secpol.msc, which just doesn’t exist (and can’t be downloaded). (Funny, I don’t recall the comparison chart having a checkbox for “can actually use computer” that was missing from Home Premium.)

If you try to set this for yourself, don’t bother trying to use C# or PowerShell. You’ll need to manually wrap the unmanaged C++ advapi32 APIs, and pass all kinds of structs and pointers back and forth.

In the end, just give up on whatever it was you wanted to use symlinks for.

Lopsided Barbell of bank credit

November 10th, 2010

At a fascinating macro talk this morning by a Goldman Sachs strategist, he mentioned a “lopsided barbell” of credit.

To the biggest firms with the best ratings — think IBM or MSFT — money is basically free, with coupon yields at sub-2%.

But to middle-market (say, $100M – $500M sales) and lower-end of middle market (let’s say $20M – $100M) companies, bank credit is simply not available at any price.

Interestingly, this week at a discussion with some regional commercial bankers, my partner Andy Sack heard gripes from the loan officers about extraordinarily tight credit conditions for single-digit-millions size facilities. (Of course, loan officers always gripe when “the credit guys” say no, but it’s worse now than usual, and importantly, not much better than 2008).

So: until or unless the big banks stop getting money for “free,” they’ll be quite content to sit on it and/or plow it for nearly-free into premium credits in large deals.  Don’t expect small business credit to loosen up until, paradoxically, rates have risen somewhat.

(Don’t expect us to have that problem over at RevenueLoan.  We’re funded by private equity investors specifically to prove out the royalty/revenue-based financing model, so A. our money costs us “private equity rates” and B. we’re on a mission to fund small businesses!)

iTunes “Sound Enhancer” Considered Harmful

October 18th, 2010

I have now on two occasions, with two separate, quiet background, vocal-heavy songs, noticed significant and highly distracting audio artifacts introduced by the default “Sound Enhancer” on iTunes for Mac (specifically, iTunes 9.2.1 (5) on Mac OS X 10.6.4, on a Quad-Core Mac Pro with an embarrassingly large amount of RAM).  The two songs were “You make me feel so young” sung by Frank Sinatra (from “Songs for Swingin’ Lovers”) and “Do I love you?” sung by Peggy Lee (from “Beauty and the Beat!”).

Both of these problems occurred with CD-ripped highish-bitrate audio tracks (MP3 at 160kbps and AAC at 256kbps/VBR, respsectively).  I originally thought the problem was that iTunes was using a faulty MP3 decoder until I determined that the problem was for AAC as well.  What finally sealed it was using QuickTime Player to listen to the same file and discovering the noise artifact had disappeared.

Compare these two, which I digitally captured using Audio Hijack (trial version; buy it if you like it!):

Version with iTunes “Sound Enhancer” enabled: http://rlucas.net/audio/do_i_love_you-itunes-sound-enhancer.aiff

Version played through Quicktime (no “Enhancer”): http://rlucas.net/audio/do_i_love_you-quicktime.aiff

(P.S., rightsholders don’t even think about flexing your DMCA at me.  These are 20-second audio quality demonstrations for nonprofit, educational and research purposes, and have no negative impact on market value of the works.  You are on notice that any DMCA abuses will be met with bad-faith treble-damage vengeance.)

Notice, on the second “Do I?” that the iTunes version has a big burst of static on the “I,” while the Quicktime version does not.  The artifact on “..so young” is similar, on the “You and I” at 1:57, but I don’t have the time to capture and post that as well.

The morals of this story:

  • TURN OFF “Sound Enhancer” in preferences.  Just do it.  Not worth it.
  • Upgrade your headphones.  Never noticed this until I moved up to some better hardware.  It gets lost in the Apple earbuds.
  • Don’t trust that because a device/program/product has a big following that it does the right thing, at least from a quality perspective.  (Yes, I know, this should be self-evident to anyone who’s been awake since, say, the Industrial Revolution, or since the invention of mass brewing, but give me a break; I’ve been in the grips of Apple fanboydom since 2003 or so.)
  • Trust your ears, debug your equipment, and don’t put up with shit.  I didn’t believe for a good long time that the problem existed at all, much less that it could have been upstream from my headphones, until I debugged it.  Digital audio holds a promise for mankind, damn it, and you’ve got to make it live up to its potential.

Washington State 529 Program (GET) Update and Retrospective

September 19th, 2010

[Update, November 17, 2013. If you read this post, *please* take the time to read all the comments, 60+ at present, which may stretch onto several pages. Readers and the GET itself have provided very important clarifications and perspectives (including some wrong or misleading ones) and it’s important to read *all* the comments. Thank you.]

Just over three years ago, I wrote a post entitled “The Washington State 529 Program (GET) Offers an Overlay.”  The post has since been the most-commented on the blog (many other comments having been lost when I switched to WordPress, unf.).  However, the post’s original thesis (as stated in its title) is now quite wrong, and I no longer recommend the GET and have not for several years.

This post will be mostly qualitative, as I do not have the time to produce a more rigorous analysis; I apologize, and feel free to add your take, qualitative or quantitative, in the comments.

I. The GET’s predominant characteristic is that it is an unfunded defined benefit investment scheme, which creates several inherent tensions.

There are two parts here: “unfunded” and “defined benefit.”  “Unfunded” means that, like Social Security, the system uses “pay as you go,” at least in part.  This means that, moreso than other investment types, the performance of the investment is contingent upon future buy-ins.  (Cynics would say “greater fools,” but that’s not really fair; lots of things are unfunded but entirely legitimate and not foolish.)

“Defined benefit” means that the scheme is promising some particular return.  Usually, when one says “defined benefit” one speaks of pension plans that have numeric formulas for determining or projecting specific dollar payouts; here, the payout is linked to state university tuition rates.  This means that, versus other investment types, the GET plan assumes the investment performance risk (mostly, but see below).

II. Comparison to insurance.

When you buy an insurance policy, the insurer makes money in two ways.  There’s underwriting profit, which comes from charging you slightly more than the actual expected (probability- and time-adjusted) value of paying off a potential future claim.  (E.g., there’s a 1% chance that your house burns down and they have to pay $250k, so they charge you $3000 for this expected $2500 liability, and bank $500.)  Then, there’s float profit, which comes from taking the money they sit on, and earning some investment return in the interim.

Now, insurance as an industry has been around a long while.  (If you want to know more, the colorful Andrew Tobias has written a book that is actually a quite engaging history and critique of the insurance business, believe it or not.)  And for “real” insurance, that is, casualty and life insurance (not health “insurance” which is, in my opinion, a vast and crass misnomer), the system works really quite well: the value of the asset that is insured is pretty well scoped out by the contract and by the market system.

Another fun benefit arises when you have big money at risk in casualty insurance: you’ve now created big entities that have a vested monetary benefit in making the world safer and less prone to fires, theft, flood damage, untimely deaths, etc.  This is because, except in fraud situations, the common adversary in insurance transactions is misfortune; that is, both you and the insurer would rather your house not burn down (though technically you sort of “win” back your premium if it does).  So insurance companies send out workplace safety inspectors, and mail you free cell-phone headsets, and offer discounts for driver’s ed and sprinkler systems and whatnot, and so they lower their expected payouts, increase their underwriting profits, and you stay a bit safer.  Win-win-ish.

With the GET, there are some key differences.  One is that the “casualty” being insured is your kid going to college (or you otherwise spending the dough).  This is virtually certain to happen, because even if your kid decides at 19 to go on tour with an all-handbell Steely Dan cover choir and eschew higher ed, you’ll find a nephew or neighbor kid or someone else to use the funds.  So there’s very little uncertainty about the fact and timing of payout.

The risk here is how much UW tuition is going to cost when your kid turns 19.  That’s the risk that GET notionally takes on your behalf.  It’s worth paying some reasonably large underwriting premium not to have to think about that risk (but see below).

III. GET is a governmental scheme and that can get wacky.

So, if GET were an independent entity, say a bank or insurance company, that said “no matter what UW tuition is, in X years, we here at Bear Stearns Lehmann Bros AIG Acme Bank will pay you that amount, in return for $Y today,” you’d think of the risk like so: Will this entity be able and willing to make good on its promise in X years?

But, there are two complications here.  One to the upside, one to the downside.

On the upside: GET notionally is backed with the full faith and credit of the State of Washington.  There are critiques here to be made, such as the fact that the backing is in statute, and not in the constitution, and that given sufficient political will, the legislature or the people by initiative could decide that a bunch of upper-middle-class tax-dodgers need to pay for their class’s sins and confiscate, dishonor, or otherwise do bad stuff to the GET.  But, probably, if the state is doing its usual stuff and the roads are paved and the ferries are sailing, the GET will get paid.

On the downside: GET is run by the same people who decide what to charge for tuition.  Yep, that’s right: the political interconnections between the GET leadership and the state financial and higher-ed communities are significant.  If the GET program should face a shortfall, any of the following options might start to look appealing:

  • Recharacterize a lot of the UW “tuition and state-mandated fees” to be not-quite “state-mandated” fees.
  • Keep an artificially low in-state tuition (perhaps making up the below-market rate by capping in-state attendance and jacking up out-of-state tuition).
  • Do some clever calendar-changing with trimesters / semesters / years / half-courses / whatever that effectively keeps nominal tuition low.

Look, this isn’t saying that anyone is corrupt, and I’m certainly not a Norquistian starve-the-beast type.  But consider what you’re playing for in this game.  You’re hoping that GET gives you more (risk-adjusted, at least) than a self-managed 529 plan would return in the public markets.  The only way that will happen is if tuition rise at a rate so much faster than the market return that it catches up to and beats the “underwriting” premium.

If that happens, then GET will be way behind, because all they’re doing is investing in 60% stocks, 40% TIPS.  Their options then will be to: 1. increase inflows (get more signups or charge a bigger premium), 2. get help from the state’s general fund (if it is politically available, which we should think likely), or 3. take some measure to limit outflows (pressure the university system to limit “tuition and state-mandated fees.”

To their credit, the GET leadership has started to jack up inflows, and is riding a wave of public disaffection with the stock markets and mutual funds to charge an enormously higher premium (underwriting profit), which is good for the plan’s solvency (but bad for those buying in today).

IV. Well, smartass, why did you recommend it in the past?

In 2007, when my niece was born and I looked into GET, the S&P was flirting with 1600 and attractive valuations were hard to find.  Risk premia were at all-time lows and P/E multiples at all-time highs.  Bubble-callers smarter than myself were ranting about real estate.  Investing on my own for an 18-year maturity seemed like a tough nut to crack, timing-wise.

At that time as well, as my prior post’s table points out, GET offered a more reasonable spread between purchase price and payout value.  In 2000, the premium was a reasonable 8%; in 2007, a rich but defensible 19%.  Today, the premium is a whopping 36%!  (Payout value, $85.92, buyin cost, $117)

I might point out that assets under management at GET have ballooned to $1.3 B over the past year, at the same time as fear has driven individual investors out of equity markets.  Therefore, things are going to look like smooth sailing for the next several years at GET.  The real problems are going to be years down the road, when investment performance has lagged and all of these new buy-ins become new payouts.

V. What’s the big point here?

Well, perhaps I missed the big point back in 2007.  Yes, it looked like a good idea then; you’re probably still getting the best of it if you bought in 2007-2008.

But the bigger point is about defined benefit plans.  The management of such plans seems to be an activity fraught with roadblocks to true honesty.  By “honesty,” I mean with a truly conservative and best-estimate view of what returns will look like, and what the ability to meet future needs requires of the plan.

For us as citizens, the message is that we need to apply oversight and demand hard-headed thinking, unless we want the near-certainty of having to fund notionally private pockets out of the public purse (see PBGC).

For us as investors, it means eschewing magic bullets, and being duly skeptical when we are promised a return without its associated risk.  (It also means jumping at opportunities when they are truly underpriced, as GET was for its first 8 years.)

I’d love to hear your stories about GET or defined benefit plans, and how you’ve thought about the associated risks.

RevenueLoan meets Disneyland, capitalism, America, and God.

September 12th, 2010

A family trip caused me to end up at Disneyland, the old-school Anaheim original, on the day of a Disney-sponsored half-marathon. (The surreality of that event, with its mouse-ear-bedecked joggers and tutu-clad princesses, could merit its own blog post.) But what got me thinking the most was a sight from after the race, and it made me realize just what an awesome opportunity our team has at my new startup, RevenueLoan.

Our party of runners (not me!) and fans stopped for some post-run hydration, and I happened to stand in front of a racing wheelchair owned by one of the rolling half-marathoners. As I looked it over, it was almost unrecognizable as what the word “wheelchair” brings to mind: this beaut was customized, with super-narrow
aerodynamic form, racing bicycle-style brakes, and sharply tilted, carbon-fiber mag wheels sporting slicks. What’s more, various of these clearly purpose-built parts, including and especially the specialty, high-end components like the carbon fiber wheels, sported the brand names and logos of their manufacturers.

Seeing the brand logos of these specialty components, a single thought, immediately and unbidden, came to mind: “what a shitty, small market; there can’t be more than a few tens of thousands of these units to be sold worldwide.”

A second thought followed almost immediately, as my conscious mind caught up to my knee-jerk initial thought: “What the hell are you thinking, Randall?  That’s a shitty and broken way to think about markets, business, and the world.”

Let me be clear: there is nothing shitty, or small, or unworthy, about a business that makes a great and unique product, that generates customer love, and that manages to turn a profit. No. Hell, no! In fact, I would venture to say that such a business — regardless of total market size, with a lower bound of recouping its owner’s living costs — is the very telos of the free market system, the raison d’être of capitalism.

I’ll say it again: the very reason why capitalism is justifiable, good, and to be maintained is precisely because it brings us miracles like self-sustaining inventors and producers of wheelchair racing components.

My knee-jerk “small market size” dismissal is a pathology easily traced to the years I spent in traditional venture capital. While I’m proud of several of the companies I worked with, and many of the people I knew, in the VC industry, I’m downright ashamed at the conditioning effect my work there has had on my thinking.

It’s not necessarily a conscious moral failing of the VCs: any industry or business that valorizes one category inevitably does rhetorical violence to those outside that category. Salesmen have “deadbeats” who never close, doctors have “GOMERs” (Get Out of My ER) whose symptoms don’t merit further treatment, and pit bosses have the “small fry” of the low-stakes bettors. The more self-actualized VCs might protest that they see and recognize the need for small-market-size businesses, but the plain fact is that if you spend 50+ hours a week rejecting those businesses, you are training and wiring your neurons for disdain at a deep level.

No, it’s not a moral failing, but an arithmetic one: Fred Wilson has expounded on VC Math, and my former Voyager colleague, Dan Ahn, is fond of noting that he is being paid by his investors to make 10x home runs, not 3x bunts and 2x walks. Fred and Dan are right; VC as an asset class, as it’s been run, is a necessary part of well-functioning entrepreneurial finance markets, but it demands a certain immutable probabilistic rubric: bigger returns, infrequently realized.The gap, then, that VCs leave below their market-size threshold, and that banks are loathe to touch without hard collateral and personal guarantees, is a gaping void. This is the void of financing for non-venture, non-brick-and-mortar businesses that stares back at some of the best and brightest of American capitalism (and convinces many to turn away). Pace, Geoffrey Moore and colleagues, this is the new “chasm” of the 21st century, and if I may have license to be so bold, it is the challenge of capitalism’s next chapter in America. And it is this segment of businesses — the “tweeners,” beloved by customers but shunned by financiers — that my team at RevenueLoan has the unique opportunity to embrace and to serve.

Lloyd Blankfein, take a hike: it’s RevenueLoan, not Goldman, who’s really doing God’s work for the businesses that are America’s promise and future.

(Wow. Over-the-top, God-and-America talk aren’t my usual style; cynicism, punnery, and Steely Dan are my usual stock-in-trade. But I guess this is what happens when my observations, my passions, and yes, my personal financial interests, align.)

But seriously. Once upon a time, we needed our creative obsessives, our ambitious organizers, our painstaking engineers, and our masters of persuasion to pull together in only the largest of endeavors. Anything less than a well-funded corporation, with capital in the eight-to-nine figures couldn’t possibly build a railroad, a refinery, a department-store chain, or a sophisticated manufacturing operation. In short: twentieth century entrepreneurialism was enabled by, and shaped itself to the demands of, nineteenth-century capital.

Today, though, we live in an economy driven by choice. We’re (ostensibly) wealthier for it. That choice, that variety, is a function of more flowers blooming and more companies thriving, not of more capital pumped into the same few firms. We must not let the promise of capitalism in the twenty-first century be enslaved to the death-throes of the models of money-management of the twentieth. In fact, the smaller overall capital requirements for launch and success mark a shift in kind of investable company, even from the 1980s-1990s model of “minicorp” to a true “microcorp” model (hint: imagine that finance is 30-40 years behind the computing industry, which it probably is, and consider that the merchant-bank to VC change is the parallel of the mainframe to minicomputer shift of three decades prior).

The naysayers whose only refrain is “Made in America!” ignore the fact: Lenovo buying ThinkPad from IBM was not the end of American export manufacturing, but a shift in what we create for export: America now invents IP, brands, and reputations. And to keep up with it, the answer isn’t to throw in the towel on education, and demand that we artificially keep a manufacturing underclass on subsistence wages in domestic maquilladoras, the way that some (I suspect disingenuous) progressives seem to want. No, the answer is that we as a nation and a people must step up to the standard of living we have chosen, and we must better ourselves, an individual and a family at a time.

Economically, this is by serving the wants and needs of our fellow man, tabulated and calculated as best we know, via the free market. And it should not be limited to serving the imperatives of inflexible, legacy forms of concentrated capital that blindly chase scale and eschew invention.

I’ll say it: a slightly cheaper T-shirt does not improve the world.  Just-in-time manufacturing is a gimmick. Raping a city’s tax revenues to subsidize yet another bread-and-circus stadium is theft or worse. “Better” derivative trading of interest rate swaptions or forex futures does fuck-all for peoples’ lives.

But having racing wheelchair parts means a hell of a lot for athletes in wheelchairs.

And it means a hell of a lot to the guy who makes ’em and sells ’em.

And if NYSE, NADSAQ, VC, PE, BofA, and “C” can’t help them — then who will?

That, my friends, and my patient readers, is why RevenueLoan is important. We get to make it happen. And we will.

The Draft and Google

September 3rd, 2010

Only because this will officially be the first page in the Google index with the words of a bumper sticker I saw (and which, I can’t lie, resonated a bit):

“Draft by Wealth: Most to lose, first to fight.”

Hmm. Thought-provoking.

The Secret Trick of Portfolio Effect Dominance

July 27th, 2010

Smart-as-a-whip VC Sim Simeonov did some math and some simulations and came up with the conclusion that a large “portfolio effect” has a major, almost overwhelming, effect on the financial returns of e.g. angel and seed VC portfolios.

English translation: make a LOT of small bets in order to win. (Even if most of those bets are losers.)

Now, this sounds somewhat counter-intuitive to a lot of folks who have been trained to “think like investors:” after all, the more deals you do, the less of a special snowflake you must be, right? (And we all know, Private Equity Professionals are the Specialest Snowflakes of All.) Furthermore, doing more and more “losers” in order to scrape together more winners (rather than trying to avoid losers altogether) just grates the wrong way at the investor mindset.

Well, Sim Simeonov has rejected that mindset with his Simeonov sim. (Forgive me.) But the point of my post isn’t just an emulation of Sim’s simulation. It’s that he’s right despite his simulation math. Rational VCs should be doing as many deals as possible, true, but it’s not due to portfolio IRR; it’s in spite of IRR.

No, the real reason that rational VCs should be doing as many deals as possible is that, to a large extent, VC firm survival has been dependent more on appearance than on financial reality. Specifically, assume two similar firms on their 2nd or 3rd funds, and assume they both, 5 years in, go out to raise funds with a 20% IRR. However, Firm A has earned that IRR through a risk-averse, lower-beta type strategy, while Firm B earned that IRR with a much larger “shotgun” portfolio chock-full of duds, but with a tiny sliver of a Google or similar mega-hit. Which firm is going to be able to raise the next fund with more certainty?

How things have worked to date is that LPs fall in love with great stories, and so it’s more important (in general) that you have one great story in the portfolio (even if it’s for a small investment) than that you have a bunch of sleepy, boring stories that average out to the same return.

Now, I’d love to see what savvy upstream investors like the Super LP, for example, think of this theory: it’s certainly not very flattering to the LP community if you suggest that they make investments solely on “stories” and not on “math.” In the LPs’ defense, I don’t think they’re being lazy or stupid; on the contrary, for the first several decades of the VC industry’s life, the market was so inefficient, and the data were so very sparse, that “stories” were the only reasonable data to look at.

However, we now have a VC (and super-angel, and micro-VC, etc.) industry that is chock-full of history, overflowing with data, and crowded with participants in the marketplace who will (relatively) quickly compete for new niches (especially as the squeeze of a denominator effect and general anti-VC enantiodromia are felt). I no longer feel as strongly as I once did that we’d soon have algorithmic VC decisions, and I doubt that we’ll see a “robot uprising in venture capital.” But I do hope and believe that we will see a more disciplined industry, and one where VCs’ incentives get rearranged to align better with actual financial returns (rather than with “stories” that drive fundraising).

(I do happen to know that there are institutional investors who realize the “great story bias” and are seeking to exploit the inefficiency it creates… let’s just say that if you were going to exploit it, you might look quite hard at Revenue-Based Finance as the way to do so 😉

Can a VC sit on more than 10 boards without f***ing up?

July 22nd, 2010

[Update: the conversation referenced below was with Scott Austin of the Wall Street Journal; he has written an article about the subject. In it, he quotes some VCs that have well over ten board seats, including Forest Baskett of NEA. I know Forest only through his and his firm’s reputations (both stellar), and I emphatically do not mean to impugn his board service, commitment, or professionalism. That said, I can’t back down from the math below and I must suggest that overloaded VCs necessarily give some of their boards short shrift.]

I had an interesting conversation today about VCs and board seats. The essential question is: how many board seats is too many?

Happily, the math involved here is pretty low-key (algebra, the highest level of mathematical reasoning to which VCs are required to aspire).

One of the best VCs I know always aspires to be the lead investor. Being the lead investor means you’re the de facto coach, quarterback, and ringleader for that round’s investor syndicate (and likely the entire board). He also tries, both as lead investor and as board member in general, to be a coach, if not confidant and mentor, to the CEO. This is all in addition to the normal duties of a good board member: meetings themselves, prep for meetings, often board dinners the night before, regular if less frequent contact with non-CEO executives (diligence and prudence), recruiting etc., and of course, any audit/comp committee work.

What kind of time does this take, on a monthly basis (4.3 weeks/month)?

  • Weekly CEO calls: 4.3 * 30 min = 2.15 hrs
  • Board meetings q 6 weeks, plus prep: (3 hrs + 1 hr) * (4.3 / 6) = 2.87 hrs
  • Massaging the egos of other board members before/after: 30 min * (4.3 / 6) = 0.36 hrs
  • Monthly CFO or other exec calls: 1 * 30 min = 1 hr
  • Executive recruiting (2 major searches a year, taking 10 hours min. each): 2 * 10 hrs / 12 = 1.67 hrs
  • Committee work (2 meetings a year, taking 3 hours min. each): 2 * 3 hrs / 12 = 0.5 hrs
  • Go to one industry conference a year: 8 hrs / 12 = 0.67 hrs

This is the bare minimum theoretical lower bound that you can consider as the time requirement to be a good, lead investor VC board member: 9.1 hours per board, per month, or just about 2.1 hours a week.

That is for the perfect, steady-state, frictionless world: board meetings are in your town at your firm’s offices (no travel), you do not raise a round, and there are no crises. A more realistic assumption would be to add:

  • Meeting travel q 6 weeks (MINIMUM, even driving up the 280 from Menlo Park to the city takes some time): 1.5 hr * (4.3 / 6) = 1.1 hrs
  • One crisis OR new round per year: 20 hrs / 12 = 1.7 hrs
  • Actually “adding value” like you said you would (soliciting customers, buyers, investors, etc.): 2 hrs /month = 2 hrs

So the real-world minimum adds another 4.8 hrs / month, bringing us to 13.9 hrs /month or 3.2 hrs / week.

How much do VCs really work? I think it’s fair to suggest that VCs work at least as much as other ambitious but affluent, socially-encumbered, and non-hourly-billable professionals: probably on the order of 50-60 hours a week. Let’s call it 55, which would reflect the combination of 10 hour days, 5+ hours each weekend, and a long and/or exotic-enough vacation each year to brag about with the other nouveau-affluent in your social circle.

The real-world catch here is that VCs have to spend a minimum of 5 (and as high as 12) hours at weekly partnership meetings. Let’s call it 6 hours/week to be charitable.

55 hours total – 6 hour partner meeting overhead = 49 workable hours.

49 workable hours / 3.2 hours per board (real world minimum) = 15.3 boards.

So there we have it: 15 boards is the upper bound of what a VC can probably sit on. HOWEVER, this assumes 100% of his working capacity is devoted to board work — nothing here for new deals or fundraising (or for other exotic and occasional pursuits, like strategic planning, learning and research, or leadership and mentoring of junior personnel). That estimate of 15 boards also has what I call the “conceit of optimality,” or inverse-Murphy: it assumes that the crises, new rounds, etc. do not overlap and create impossible time-crunches.

Given that fundraising is THE existential requirement of VC firms, and given that new deal work does have to happen somehow (after all: how did those 15 investments get made??), you’ve got to make significant provision for the working time of a VC to those other, non-board priorities. I personally think that non-board work is at least HALF of the workable hours, but I could be convinced that a board-seat-heavy partner might spend 2/3 of his time on board work.

Therefore, I think that 10 is the maximum realistic board seat capacity of a VC partner who wants to do a reasonably diligent and good job on boards, while also doing the minimum to stay in business as a VC. In practice, I think many boards will take more-than-average time, and I think most VCs will need to spend more time on non-board work, so 7 or 8 is probably a better number to set as a prescriptive maximum.

One could exceed ten board seats without f***ing up in exceptional cases:

  • Independent angel investor (no “firm” overhead)
  • Exceptional geographic and/or industry concentration
  • Evergreen fund, wind-down of a fund, or other nontraditional partner role

Otherwise, you are going to be dropping packets on the floor like a Cogent router in a SQL Slammer epidemic.

One probably needs to hold significantly FEWER than ten (or even fewer than 7) if the following hold:

  • Geographic diversity (have to fly to board meetings)
  • Industry diversity (trying to stay up to date and mine contacts in diverse fields)
  • Series A/B/C rather than later stage weighting (hypergrowth, “chasm,” hiring, and fundraising challenges).

RubyGems assorted errors, mutating APIs, and fixes

April 29th, 2010

If you’re trying to use a newer (e.g. 1.3.6) version of the ruby “gem” system to install ruby packages (like rails, rake, etc.) on a legacy system with an older (v. 1.9.0) ruby installed, you might find yourself running into problems like this:

$ gem install rake

ERROR: While executing gem ... (ArgumentError)
illegal access mode rb:ascii-8bit

If you run with debugging flags, you might get a slightly more informative stack trace:

$ gem --debug install rake
Exception `NameError' at /usr/local/lib/site_ruby/1.9/rubygems/command_manager.rb:163 - uninitialized constant
Gem::Commands::InstallCommand
Exception `Gem::LoadError' at /usr/local/lib/site_ruby/1.9/rubygems.rb:778 - Could not find RubyGem test-unit (>= 0)

Exception `Gem::LoadError' at /usr/local/lib/site_ruby/1.9/rubygems.rb:778 - Could not find RubyGem sources (>
0.0.1)

Exception `ArgumentError' at /usr/local/lib/site_ruby/1.9/rubygems/format.rb:50 - illegal access mode rb:ascii-8bit
ERROR: While executing gem ... (ArgumentError)
illegal access mode rb:ascii-8bit
/usr/local/lib/site_ruby/1.9/rubygems/format.rb:50:in `initialize'
/usr/local/lib/site_ruby/1.9/rubygems/format.rb:50:in `Gem::Format#from_file_by_path'
/usr/local/lib/site_ruby/1.9/rubygems/installer.rb:118:in `initialize'
/usr/local/lib/site_ruby/1.9/rubygems/dependency_installer.rb:257:in `Gem::DependencyInstaller#install'
/usr/local/lib/site_ruby/1.9/rubygems/dependency_installer.rb:240:in `Gem::DependencyInstaller#install'
/usr/local/lib/site_ruby/1.9/rubygems/commands/install_command.rb:119:in `execute'
/usr/local/lib/site_ruby/1.9/rubygems/commands/install_command.rb:116:in `execute'
/usr/local/lib/site_ruby/1.9/rubygems/command.rb:258:in `Gem::Command#invoke'
/usr/local/lib/site_ruby/1.9/rubygems/command_manager.rb:134:in `process_args'
/usr/local/lib/site_ruby/1.9/rubygems/command_manager.rb:104:in `Gem::CommandManager#run'
/usr/local/lib/site_ruby/1.9/rubygems/gem_runner.rb:58:in `Gem::GemRunner#run'
/usr/bin/gem:21

Ignore the first couple exceptions and focus on the ArgumentError right before the stack trace. What you’re seeing there is a use of a syntax for defining the binary read encoding mode for reading in a file, but it’s a syntax that didn’t make it into ruby core until ~ version 1.9.1.

However, the relevant part of rubygems/format.rb that checks for RUBY_VERSION to determine what syntax to use simply checks for RUBY_VERSION > ‘1.9’.

If you patch that to check for RUBY_VERSION > ‘1.9.0’ you’ll make some progress, but you’ll get stuck again with a similar error:

/usr/local/lib/site_ruby/1.9/rubygems/source_index.rb:91:in `IO#read': can't convert Hash into Integer (TypeError)

Although this one looks quite different, it’s the same effect at play: rubygems/source_index.rb checks for RUBY_VERSION < '1.9', when it really ought to check for RUBY_VERSION < '1.9.1' when it uses a 1.9.1+ specific API (specifying the encoding in IO#read). I've added bugs at RubyForge: [#28154] Gem.binary_mode version test for Ruby 1.9 sets invalid rb:ascii-8bit mode and [#28155] source_index.rb uses 1.9.1 IO#read API under RUBY_VERSION 1.9.0; other 1.9.0 issues Hot-patching may be required if you find yourself needing to get gem 1.3.6 working under Ruby 1.9.0. (For example, this is the Ruby 1.9 that comes packaged with Debian 4.0.) If so, it should be safe to make the changes I've indicated above. I'm hesitating to provide a patch file as I am not certain that I've got this 100% right; YMMV. Thank goodness for open source. That said, WTF is a core API item like IO#read doing changing between point versions, without it being loudly obvious in the docs??

VCs passing for “soft” vs. “hard” reasons

March 30th, 2010

I recently made the choice (mistake?) of telling an entrepreneur, whose business I actually liked and respected, the real reason why I was passing on investing at the time.

In this case, there was a new CEO recently signed up to work with a technical founder, there were some family relationships on the team and board, and there were some international complexities (overseas offices). I also believed that there were some cultural issues in the company that needed work (especially around customer service / customer experience issues).

Now, compare these things to the usual, “hard,” “objective” issues that VCs take: market size, defensibility / patents, growth rate, capital requirements — things that can generally be reduced to numbers. My concerns looked pretty “soft” in comparison: seasoning of the team working together, culture of customer satisfaction, family dynamics. I took a risk and laid it out there, adding that I would be happy to check in in a few months to see how things were shaping up on these “soft” issues (but I acknowledged the risk of losing the deal to a faster moving investor).

The entrepreneur’s reaction was mixed. At first he told me he appreciated the candor, but then, in a follow up email, objected pretty strongly and negatively contrasted our communication with other VC “passes” he’d received, each of which had a “hard” reason (like raising too much / too little, outside of geography, etc.). I thought about this for a bit.

If you were pitching, and the VC declined to proceed at that time, would you rather get a “hard” or “soft” reason for a pass?

I’d say “soft.”

If a VC tells you, “ah, you’re raising 10-12 million from two VCs, but my fund size will only let me put in 2-4,” or conversely, “you’re raising 2-3 but I have to put 4-6 to work in each investment,” what have you actually learned? With due respect, you’ve been told that your would-be date has to wash her hair on Friday. Perhaps, in fact, she is going to wash her hair, but if she was really attracted to you, she’d rearrange her shampoo schedule.

Likewise, total market size, IP, or the elusive “traction” are all “hard” reasons for a pass. They’re likewise convenient: they are impersonal / objective, deficient to some extent in all startups, and theoretically required for success. Each is a seed crystal around which a swirl of “soft” reasons can easily and apparently crystallize. And they all sound good, well-reasoned, prudent — things we can easily feel OK about mentioning to our partnerships or to you, the entrepreneur.

(Not that this is disingenuous or untruthful in any way on the VC’s part; since we must reject literally 99% of deals we look at, sometimes one reason is as good as another.)

BUT: if you can find someone willing to take a risk and share the “soft” reasons with you, have a close listen. Soft items include team dynamics, opinions about “direction” or “strategy,” or “pattern recognition” stuff. Sometimes it’s about a “smell factor” or something else that just makes a VC uncomfortable. Always, it’s a complex cocktail of different perceptions, judgments, and opinions (from the discounted cash flows to Lord Keynes’ “animal spirits”), and the true contents are much more varied and harder to describe than a single crystallized hard reason that’s dropped out of solution.

These things are risky for an investor to try and describe. They can be personal or interpersonal, and talking (or listening!) directly about one’s own self is hard. They often include a personal value or judgment call on the investor’s part, and those calls can prove wrong. However, in fundraising as in so much of startup work, perception is (or at the very least strongly feeds back into) reality. Getting an honest assessment of what one investor really, truly thinks at the “soft” and complex level is likely to be more helpful in shaping the business and the pitch than a pat “hard” answer.

Sometimes, things just don’t align and the real answer is: no fit, let’s both shake hands and move on quickly. And sometimes, there’s a complex swirl of doubt but the time and effort of dissecting and parsing it isn’t worth the likely yield: crystallizing on a “hard” rationale for a pass is fine. But if an investor takes the time to dig in, to do the “mass spectrometry” on the trace elements of his doubt, please listen. He’s taking a risk, and though the soft observations may be wrong, the mere fact of their existence and elicitation, as well as their details, should be valuable to the entrepreneur.

(The next step is getting VCs to solicit, appreciate, and iterate/improve based upon “soft” feedback from entrepreneurs. Which I am trying, the reader may have concluded in surmise, myself to do. The entrepreneur I describe is real and gave permission for me to mention him anonymously.)