I turn 48 this week and like most people passing from one year to the next, I find myself a bit nostalgic for the way things used to be. One of the things I miss…a little at least…has gotten extremely difficult to find. Ironically, the thing I can’t find is a good search.
Like many people over the age of 40, my parents spent a boat-load of money when I was a lad to buy me a set of encyclopedias. I had the Encyclopedia Brittanica and the sales guy convinced my parents to buy another set of books called the Annals of America, an outstanding set of 20+ books, chronologically bound, with writings from authors of the day, on the issues of the decades of America’s existence. Unfortunately, like many things in American life, the series ended with the Nixon Presidency. I distinctly remember casually flipping through the encyclopedias when searching for information about some piece of homework or term sheet I was completing. I can’t tell you anything specifically that I learned, but I credit these wasted hours browsing and searching for my success at answering questions from Trivial Pursuit and Jeopardy.
The same was, and occasionally still is for me, with the dictionary. Geekily, I was in the habit of highlighting good words I found while I was looking for some other word. My vocabulary is definitely better than that of my dog, Jethro, because of this “wasted” time looking for a particular word but perusing the plethora of others in the lexicon (see what I mean?)
Phone books, those marvels of small font sizes and garish ads on extremely thin paper, provided an opportunity to make chance findings of new repairmen and home improvement specialists. I’m not sure that any modern digital attempts have been as successful at helping businesses “get local” as the yellow pages were. There was tremendous knowledge to be gleaned about your neighborhood and community from flipping through the pages on the way to the little business you were seeking.
Without question, the internet gets us where we’re going faster than paper ever did. It’s like the express train to your destination. The internet allows us to search and find the precise thingy we’re looking for. Click-Click-Pow—Knowledge. All of the companies formed in the Google generation are fortunate to skip the time wasted while tracking down precisely what they’re looking for. Today’s web based companies can certainly get up and running quicker than companies from the 20th Century, mostly because the software is easier to build and deploy and distribute than in the era before Google. But there are also fewer dark alleys of knowledge and connections…LinkedIn alone must save dozens of sometimes fruitless hours searching for the right contact to make.
Google-era tools are obviously also making communication more constant allowing more entrepreneurs to believe they can build a company virtually. When I challenge the strategy of some recent college grad insisting that he can build a company with buddies in various locations…I see that look. That little sideways glance at the gray in my goatee. That subtle raise in the eyebrows that says “Oh…you’re older than I thought you were, because you probably don’t spend 7 hours a day on Google Hangout.” It’s ok. Not your fault kiddo…you just didn’t understand the serendipitous power of Encyclopedia Brittanica. In a virtual team you miss too many opportunities to accidentally discover your next opportunity. There is solidifying value to spending 40+ hours per week together with your new venture ship-mates. Humans are wired with sensory perceptions beyond what can be accepted over the internet miles. No latency issues. No crappy pixelated choppy images and “hold on, let me text John and see if he can help us get Sam access to the powerpoint”. Just a couple of founders in a room, with a whiteboard and chemical-odor-emitting markers…hashing their way to a solution and discovering serendipitous knowledge while doing so. Like the bridge of the Starship Enterprise…we’re all in this search for intelligence together.
Soon, very soon I think, kids and an entire generation of entrepreneurs under 25, will not know the pleasure of accidentally learning “stuff” while roaming their way to their destination. If apocalypse comes, will they know how to forage for food? Or will they be lost without the ability to wikigooglezon.com for it? Will they ever try some restaurant they’re walking by in New York, without checking it out first on some website? Will their life be pointed and direct with all their routes carefully mapped and presented by pleasant digital female voices telling them where to go? Or will they allow themselves to be exposed? Will one thing just…lead to another? Will they be vulnerable to things that aren’t quite what they were looking for but… just adjacent to them? We’ve tried to teach our kids, and now I teach young entrepreneurs, that the adventure is partly in the journey…but I don’t know if we’ve been strong enough to overcome the inexorable power of a precisely delivered digital vastness.







Why I Loathe Tumblr.
No caption necessary.
I loathe Tumblr.
But not for the 1.1 billion reasons that you think. Sure, I’m a little professionally jealous that I’ve never had a client sell themselves for $1.1 billion. But it’s not like I had a chance to invest in them and passed. Heck, I had hardly ever heard of Tumblr until about 18 months ago when they raised $85 million on an $800 million valuation and had no customers. I admit to scoffing then…probably even blogged about valuation bubbles. But I didn’t loathe them then…like I do now.
I loathe Tumblr because they made me feel stupid.
Granted, it isn’t the stupidest I’ve ever felt. I mean, there was that time when I volunteered to clean our oven…Step 1) spread newspaper over the oven burners; Step 2) thoroughly spray the inside of the oven with the spray-stuff; Step 3) turn oven to “high” to activate the spray-stuff; 4) See smoke coming from the oven and rush the forgotten (and now smoldering) newspapers across the kitchen to the sink and douse the flames. Tumblr doesn’t make me feel THAT stupid.
No, Tumblr makes me feel stupid because I now realize that all the business advice I’ve ever suggested… is wrong. Not sure how my clients feel about this, but I’ll apologize now for the following stupid pieces of business advice I’ve probably given you over the years:
Bad Advice Step 1) “Start a company that delivers a product or service that solves some problem that a large set of customers has.” It’s good that Tumblr didn’t take that advice. If they had taken that advice, they never would have come up with such an incredibly useful social media platform that allows me to gaze at pictures that people share with each other, even the borderline pornographic ones. Of course, there were several dozen other platforms out there already allowing this to occur and I would have been wrong to keep blabbering on to them about “I think you need a better customer value proposition”. So identifying a customer problem and then building technology to solve it was bad advice. I should have suggested developing technology to solve no known problem.
Bad Advice Step 2) “Obtain customers.” Pretty naive. I definitely would have told founder David Karp that since he didn’t at first follow my Step 1 advice above–solve a customer problem first, build the technology second–that he should now find a customer base where his nifty, scrolly technology might be useful. Look for a revenue model that would allow you to build a business. Instead, he simply went out and let users, (by the way, users are the exact-opposite of customers), pile on the site and jack up hosting and serving and support costs. Business model, schmizness schmodel.
Bad Advice Step 3) “Don’t raise more money than you need.” Duh. Nearly as stupid as leaving the newspapers inside the oven when trying to clean it! Tumblr raised somewhere in the neighborhood of $125 million on ever-higher valuations. Increasing valuations, mind you, for a company that basically burned increasing amounts of cash for every new user at the site. Apparently the old joke about the CEO who lost a nickel on every dollar of sales but who would “make it up on volume”…wasn’t so funny after all.
Bad Advice Step 4) “Yahoo’s offer is just the tip of the iceberg…I’ll bet AOL will pay $1.3 billion” Ok, I probably wouldn’t have given that last piece of advice. Of course, I also wouldn’t have advised Yahoo to pay $1.1 billion. They basically paid $10 for each of the 108 million Tumblr tumblebloggers on the site. But that includes my Tumblr blog, even though I haven’t visited my Tumblr blog in many months. I think that clearly proves they overpaid by about $10 at least. The good news from the acquisition is that I hope, soon, my Yahoo! home page will have the ability to scroll a news feed for crying out loud.
So, I loathe Tumblr because they’ve proven I have little in the way of good advisory powers. How am I ever again going to be able cast a skeptical eye at a prospective client’s customer growth curve? How am I ever again going to dare suggest a “bottoms up” approach to revenue projections? And how can I ever again offer up my conservative capital-raising sensibilities in answer to the question “how much money should I raise?” (See related post “How Much Money Should I Raise…$29,542?)
No, Tumblr has ruined not only my outward reputation but also my inward self-confidence. Tumblr (and Instagram while we’re at it) have shown the entrepreneurial community the way the new economy works and clearly showed that this old-school incubator manager only ever really got one thing right…that Color Labs never should have taken that $41 million in 2011! Wait a minute…it can’t be…that car that just pulled up in front of Color’s office…isn’t that a Google car full of Google-Glass-wearing Google guys??
Oh, the loathing!
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