Belief
The $150,000 10-minute interview.
Aaron Epstein.
Tracy Young.
Kevin Lin.
Michael Siebel.
The names of our interviewers were scribbled down in black ink. Most of them I vaguely remembered reading somewhere, before. One of the names I had Google searched hundreds, if not thousands of times.
My head span. My hands were shaking.
I’m not sure if it was in awe, or in fear.
It was suffocating inside the nondescript office building. It blended right in with the rest of the quiet, suburban town of Mountain View. Inside, the pale, white walls stretched up to the towering ceiling. The air was cold—like someone forgot to shut a window in the middle of an abandoned warehouse.
I felt the warmth of my tears as they rolled down my face. Through my blurred vision, I looked at my co-founder and choked out a “Thank You”. For everything.
This was the guy who, three years ago, trusted me enough to give me and my stupid app ideas a chance. The guy who poured his energy into his nights and weekends with me. The guy who woke up at 8 AM, went to work, came home, and clocked in again at 6PM, all to help me achieve my dreams. And now, we were about to walk into a room of individuals who were quite literally worth a billion dollars, and have a 10-minute conversation that could net us $150,000.
But at that moment, I just felt at peace. I wouldn’t have it any other way. Marching straight into the lion’s den, my teammate, Young, at my side.
—
Two weeks earlier, our team of 4 had just wrapped up our weekly team meeting.
Our conversation that day was shrouded with an air of dread. In fact, I’m not sure I remember the last meeting that wasn’t simply a status update, plans for the next week, and an empty “goodbye”. Every week felt like we were further and further from the finish line.
As the meeting ended, I opened up my email. Three new messages. One from YC. The subject line: Your Y Combinator Application.
“Thank you for applying to Y Combinator. Your application looks promising and we’d like to meet you in person in Mountain View…”
I could feel my eyebrows contorting. I reread the sentence three, maybe four times. My phone slipped out of my hands. They were shaking, uncontrollably.
I’m not sure if it was in awe, or in fear.
—
The next 2 weeks before our interview were a marathon. And a sprint. Simultaneously.
Was it something in the water? A belief? Nay, a conviction.
We all went to our day jobs. Then back home. Then worked on this thing late into the night, some more. Sleep, for me, amounted to little more than tossing and turning. One night I was lucky enough to get an entire 5 hours of sleep. A dense fog of numbers, to-do lists, and habit research clouded my brain. Having conversations about anything else was pretty difficult.
And we pulled… something off. And, talked about it two weeks later to some billionaires in khaki shorts, allbirds, and patagonias.
And, we believed.
—
Alas, we didn’t end up getting the $150,000. Bummer.
However, I know there will be many more at-bats in the future. For better or worse, I’m probably going to be building products and teams for a long, long time.
I’m only blessed enough to do so through some pretty spectacular teammates. Armed with the belief in each other—in ourselves, and the ability to get shit done.
Damn.
It feels like nothing can stop me. Us.
Seems hard to believe that about a team of 22 year olds.
—
My life so far has been one big privileged instance of my loved ones and close friends believing in my very average self, especially when I could not.
Three years ago, I was finishing up my fourth semester of applying to business clubs. Every semester came with a cold rejection. Two years straight of believing that my entire self worth as a finance major was the equivalent of a fucking “Please apply next year!” email.
I couldn’t climb out — even the 6 colleges I applied to transfer to rejected me.
Somehow, even then, I was pulled out by those around me and given the opportunity to build, to lead, and, above all, to simply be a good teammate.
I’m not exactly sure how to put this, but thank you for blessing me with the ability to believe.
