If you haven’t read the previous part: How to start a failure startup — The First Mistake
How to start a failure startup — The Second Mistake
Preface: While composing this saga from memory, I realised that there’s a lot in the details and that one post about this would be too long to read and could make certain facts and lessons insignificant. For the ease of reading, I’ve broken it up into the number of mistake I’ve made. Hope this helps!
2012 was gold for us. After the newspaper server meltdown, we’d received heaps of feedback from people who’d signed up. A few days after the article was published, people realised that the site was no longer accessible and the traffic died down. Once the site was back up, I read well over a thousand messages from people who’d signed up. Some people praised us; they understood why the interface was bad and that we were still learning. Some people threw a lot of hate messages our way. But, it was okay. Any kind of response is good. The worst feedback you can get is when someone visits the site and doesn’t say a word. You have no idea what they liked or didn’t and there’s no way to know if they’ll ever return or why they wouldn’t.
However, I knew for certain that we needed to rework the entire idea from scratch. The interface, the user experience, and even the backend structure of the entire site had to be revamped aggressively. And while I had built most of the first version myself, I knew I’d need more time and energy building the second one all by myself. So, I turned to my team.
This would be a part of my second mistake, something I’d come to learn very quickly. Two months had passed since our first article and a regional paper decided to write about us again.
Btw, if you’re a Kannadiga or you read Kannada, you can probably make sense of what the writer’s trying to say. Translating that page to English will lead to a pretty interesting version of what Google thinks the writer’s trying to say. Binox is spelt in ways I never imagined.
However, considering the paper wasn’t always read by the youth of our city, we hardly noticed any traffic from it which saved us from another embarrassing meltdown.
I took this opportunity to start putting together the actual architecture of what was to come. Looking back now, it was actually pretty intense and impressive. Sure, our DB guy was of some help but I had to push beyond the boundaries of what our college taught us. I began to learn new languages, new frameworks, and a more systematic approach to writing software. As the head of the team, I started assigning tasks to every single guy. I knew they wouldn’t code — or even attempt to code — as much I would. But, I was willing to work through their shortcomings by plugging in whatever they wrote into mine.
While I built out the core architecture, I had them build independent apps and services like they would for a standalone site. I would then take what they built, “plug” it into my core, and “clean” it up to make sure everything was seamless. This time, I was being extremely specific about the user interface. We had to make it look like an operating system. I wanted to have almost the same number of layers a traditional OS has. A desktop, a file system, a process and memory manager, an application manager, a multitask process, and a whole lot more.
Similarly, we changed the logo from a shitty looking one to a comparatively better looking one.
But, this OS would work off of any browser. This OS could be used for free. Individual apps could charge for certain services … pretty much how apps work today on your phone except that your OS is never free (unless you count Linux based ones). Technically, what I didn’t realise back then was that I was building on what Linux had to offer. I had to understand all of those layers and then figure out a way to build ours on top.
For the casual reader, I’m sure this is starting to get quite technical. And it actually is. It was important for me to make the rest of the team understand this fact. Save for 3 of us, everyone was slacking off. To get a basic part of a page up and running, the guys were taking over a week while I was whipping out modules by the hour. But, I had to be understanding. Obviously, not everyone would learn the way I did. They’d need their own motivation. I mean, if I could do it, they could, too, right?
That very thought was about to bring about our destruction years later.
My assumption was based on the fact that I wasn’t some super intelligent guy. I was just a normal guy, going to college, making sure I didn’t miss classes, failing a few, and of course, trying to start my own company. The typical Bangalore early startup scene. However, back in 2011–2012, the startup scene in Bangalore hadn’t boomed the way it has now. And the college I studied in wanted nothing more than to make sure we didn’t do anything criminally wrong. They didn’t even care if we passed, failed, or even attended classes. And I was dealing with people in my team from this environment.
Soon, out of the 8 of us, only 4 would meet up and work. Sometimes, 5. Sometimes, 3. Sometimes, it was just me. One of our teachers in our department was interested in what we were doing. She’d heard of a startup meet organized by YourStory which — back then — had just started to rise to popularity in college circles. Founders and CEOs of top startups would be present and we’d have the opportunity to speak with directors of angel investment companies and VCs. We’d also get to meet the Google India head amongst a few others. I was super excited and I wanted the team to be, too. Looking at their dead faces and the dread of having to travel some distance to an event that could change their lives pissed me off but I felt that — maybe — they didn’t know what to expect.
The day arrived and we were at TechSparks 2012. Startup after startup came up on stage to showcase what they’d built in front of a panel. I learnt later that the one stood a chance of winning a seed investment. I just know that it wasn’t much, but I don’t honestly remember exactly how much.
Watching everyone’s pitch taught me what I needed to say if I were on that stage. It also taught me what not to do. After watching about 30 startups pitch on stage, I knew I needed to have a style of my own. Nearly every startup founder pitched the same way. Put up a presentation, go from a welcome screen to a “This is the problem” screen, to a “This is what’s happening today” screen, to a “This is how we solve it” screen, to a “How we’re better” screen, and finally, to a “This our awesome team” screen.
It infuriated me to think that these were the guys on stage and not me. That’s your startup pitch? Those 6–7 slides represent your startup and what you do? That’s it? To me, my startup was my life in the making. I sure as hell didn’t want to work as a nameless ID card in a massive multi-national company. But, that’s how each startup was being pitched! Like they didn’t care about their startup. Like they were one among the 30. Or was it that it was easier to do what the pattern required? It’s your freaking startup! You need to own that stage and pitch what you do. We’re pitching to humans, not computers. After the first 5 startups, the panel’s gonna get tired looking at the same things being said on stage by different faces. Someone needed to light that stage on fire. And, no one did.
I looked around at everyone else in my team to see if they’d picked up on it but I don’t think they had. A few were talking about being hungry, a few were checking their phones. I was sitting there imagining some day I’d be on a stage like that and wowing the crowd with what we’d built. I wanted to do it like Samsung or Apple releasing their new tech. You’re pitching to potential customers even if that customer is an investor. You shouldn’t care what he is as long as you get him to buy into your stuff. But, they didn’t see that that way.
At the end of that day, I lay in bed thinking about two lines spoken to me by two very different people.
The Google India head (then, I guess) — when we met him — handed out his visiting card to me and asked for mine. I said, “I’ve run out of cards, actually.” I lied. I hadn’t even considered printing them. I guess I hadn’t ever considered seeing my name followed by “CEO” printed on paper. Almost as if reading my mind, he said, “You have a cool idea and this is a war field. A soldier never leaves home for war without his sword. Your business card is your sword. You’ve lost your battle without it.”
I don’t think a lot of lines have stuck with me that way till now. It was embarrassing to be told off by Google India and also being told that we’d lost even before we’d begun. I promptly designed and printed nearly 500 business cards over the next couple of days.
The second advice given to me was by a pretty well known guy in the Indian startup scene. After listening to what we wanted to build and why, he said, “Why? You’re setting out to re-invent the wheel based on what you think is better for it! You won’t be able to get even your girlfriend to sign up. Listen, we have giants in the industry today. Google, Facebook, Microsoft … you know the rest. Learn to build on the shoulders of these giants. Did you see today’s winner? He built an unfollowing app for Twitter on Android and iOS and he’s walked away easy with the money! Build on the shoulders of giants and you’d reach faster. Raise money, do well, and sell! Enjoy life with that money. Let the big guys do their thing, that’s what they’re for.”
I was stunned. Normally, I’d argue and debate but I was just stunned that this is what he’d said right off the bat. And all that stuff I quoted above? He said that in one long shot without being interrupted. He didn’t stop to consider that he was probably wrong from the first sentence. We weren’t re-inventing any goddamn wheel. We were making another type of wheel, ones that weren’t meant for your typical car or your typical road. One that could probably make you drive straight over mountains and not around them.
I didn’t need my girlfriend to sign up if that’s the validation he was expecting. I didn’t have one so it didn’t matter. Yes, we do have giants but they suck at working together. We’re the end users and no one’s really working to make things better for us. Where these giants could hold hands and bound together, they’re crawling at an abysmal pace while squabbling with each other over data, services, and permissions. And what if I wanted to be a giant? Do I still build on their shoulders? I’d want my weight to crush them down! What if I wanted to compete — for example — with Google search itself? How the f-ck do I build on their shoulders without competing with them? How do I build a social networking platform on Facebook without competing with them? You know what he’d say after you do compete? “Sell to them! Enjoy life!”
There’s nothing wrong with selling, really. But, if your idea competes with a big guy and he offers you money, you don’t sell because he’s already shown his cards by offering to buy you. You’re a threat to him whether he openly states it or not. And an idea like Binox wasn’t going to be sold. Even though we closed the company after 5 years, we still had a long way to go to becoming a mature company with respect to product. We hadn’t even completed building what we’d set out to do. You don’t sell when you’re building the next better Android to Android itself. They’ll just absorb you and … remain Android. Where’s your entrepreneurship then? Or was your whole startup just a business transaction?
That was the day I learnt that even in the same room, you’d have people who give you both good and bad advice. It’s your duty and responsibility to understand your core competency and decide what’s good for you. Luckily, this wasn’t my second biggest mistake.
My second biggest mistake was my team. After this meet, I assumed they were as kicked as I was about getting our baby out the door. However, the slacking off continued and I started warning them over the phone and in college. I told ’em, “We have less than a year to graduate. We’re not studying in any fancy college for companies to be queueing up. There’s Wipro, TCS, EY, HP, and Infosys waiting to hire you to talk to customers all day long while you work the midnight shift and earn less than fifteen thousand rupees a month. If this is what you want, I can respect it, but you’ll have to tell me right now. I can’t have us dragging dead weight. I’m not guaranteeing any kind of salary now. But, if we work as a team and make this right, we’ll make more money than you can imagine without really having to work for anyone, if money’s what’s important to you.”
Initially, they agreed to work harder. But, winter had come and the leaves were starting to fall. Not only did two guys openly tell me they needed to leave because their families wanted them to have a “real” job, a few others slowly began to defect.
Initially, it was with the guy who said he’d be our auditor. His son was part of our team and was skipping work regularly. I later found out that he’d been spending time with his girlfriend instead of working and was lying to us about where he was. He’d also been convincing his parents that he was with us at work instead of telling them he was out with us at work.
I composed resignation letters for everyone in their names (except 3 of us) and sent it out to them to sign and send it back. With any further prompting, I had two guys sign and send it back to me. The auditor called me up since I’d sent it to his son as well. He threatened me and shouted at me and told me that I couldn’t fire his son since I didn’t have the authority. Even the I was the CEO, I hadn’t put it down in paper that I had those specific rights. He also told me that he had every intention of buying out my shares to make sure his son held the majority. I said I’d wait for the day he did that.
It’s been 6 years and he hasn’t done it. I did get his son’s signature on the resignation letter though.
I was starting to learn my lesson. By mid 2013, I was in my last semester of college and our team size had dropped. Exams were just round the corner and one of my teachers had something personal against us. I’m not sure what it was but he ended up telling us that we were short of the required attendance even though we’d attended almost all the classes. Incidentally, it was just my team that was on the list. Needless to say, it resulted in a huge fight and got our parents involved with the college management. Me and my other co-founder ended up verbally shouting at our principal, the vice-chancellor, and the other heads by telling them how useless they were even though we had proof of the teacher’s misdeeds and vendetta against us.
Unfortunately, nothing helped and I ended up having to write what is called supplementary exams — the exams that follow right after the main ones. These are the exams that students write when they’ve failed the main ones and we were forced to write these without being allowed to sit for the main exams. My fury knew no bounds.
To make matters worse, it was mostly just me and two other co-founders who were forced into it, The rest of our team somehow got off the hook. I knew something was amiss but decided to do my investigation later. Once the noise had died down, I did my digging and found that the team I’d started to lay off had made a deal of some sort with the teacher who’d messed around with our attendance records and got off the hook while we remained in trouble. In fact, they assisted the teacher with getting us into trouble in the first place.
When I did find out about this, I was hurt. Sure, we’d been friends long before team members, and yes, they had quit the company just a short while before the college incident happened, but it still shouldn’t have been a reason for them to stab me in the back. Their exit was mutually agreed upon, too.
It numbed me to think that there were people who wouldn’t hesitate to get you into trouble just because they felt wronged even though they were supposed to be your good friends. Not only had I compensated for their shortcomings over the years, I’d helped teach them, I’d helped push them to achieve things, I’d made them receive credit for stuff they didn’t even do; all of it was in the hope that we’d stay together as a team and remain loyal. Sure, not everyone is good at everything. Over time, one may learn that he’s good at something entirely different. And I’d extended that freedom to choose to do what you’d like to do. Yet, no one chose. They chose to leave because I started pushing them to actually work. And, that’s okay. But, why the betrayal?
I allowed myself to feel sad. Wiping away the tears, I decided to never repeat any of my past mistakes. The entire experience helped me grow a thicker skin. I thought we’d been reduced to 3 people but soon after graduation, our DB guy quit saying he needed to work some place else to earn more. We were now just 2 of us and we had an entire company to run with close to 0 funds.
In my frustration with our situation, I convinced myself that I’d build the entire thing out on my own. My co-founder could focus on operations and everything else that I couldn’t. But, I’d build the entire platform on my own even if it took my 6 months to get the first version out. And so, my mistake was:
Never try to do everything on your own.
Read the next part: How to start a failure startup — The Third Mistake
