Went to Raise Venture Capital

Got Ugly Babied and Saw Some Ghosts

Your baby is ugly.

Then again, sometimes the process of raising venture capital is, too.

Shall we call a spade a spade?

Or a shovel a pick? As in ‘picks ‘n shovels’ because that’s the way you’ll describe your business to a venture capitalist.

‘We’re picks ‘n shovels for AI,’ certainly hits all the high water marks, but your vertical market is specialized, so you’ll go with ‘picks ‘n shovels for the parakeet vitamin supply chain.’

Naturally.

Shovel or pick, it doesn’t matter because investor pitching absolutely 100% requires a compelling analogy. Uber for anything and everything will work so, “We’re Uber for Parakeet Vitamins,” is sure to get you funded.

Anyway, before you pitch a VC, it’s wise to remember the golden rule: He (She/They/Them/Hobbit) who holds the gold rules.

Pronouns aside — and Heavens to Murgatroyd! (I see you Snugglepuss) — you definitely require gold (money/cash/IOUs), so buckle up and get ready to follow some rules.

First, you need to make lists, mainly of all the lists you will make. You’re going to need a list of venture capital firms (VCFs). And another list of venture capital people (VCPs) and a combined list of VCFs and VCPs that have shown a previous appreciation of, well of, parakeets. (It’s recommended you create a list of parakeet species, in case a VCP asks your favorite. And a list of vitamins? Sure a list of those would be good, but can’t you just find that on the Internet, chum?)

Anyway, then you’ll dog ‘n pony (or parakeet ‘n peacock, in your case) the presentation you spent weeks pulling together (mostly refining font sizes). The VCP will listen closely and nod, interspersing refreshing words like ‘nice’ or ‘interesting’ or even the occasional ‘I see’ (which may mean the VCP is actually checking the price of Bitcoin, and so may have missed the details about per capita GPA of parakeets on the island of Crete and PPLTV (Per Parakeet Lifetime Value — a term you learned from an AI hallucination)).

Post pitch, you’ll take the recording you made (of course you recorded it, you devious son of a bitch) to have Claude or ChatGPT explain the VCPs objections, only to find the AI just tells you how beautiful you are and what an excellent pitch-person you make.

So you’ll tell the AI to go into absolute mode so it can get downright nasty — medieval even — and indeed it will, by explaining how unlikely it is there will be any gold for you. Also, that a VCP uttering the word ‘interesting’ actually, in most cases, means ‘how do I get off this call?’.

Of course, after every pitch you’ll send a small virtual dump truck of follow-up materials: A video demo here, a financial model there, the presentation itself and — so that you may stand out — a meme about parakeet feathers.

And then you’ll wait, appearing patient, as if you have dozens of VCP suitors eager to give you gold.

You can expect a response any day now, likely one of two options:

1. The Ugly Baby Rejection

It’s probably the parakeet market (which is oversaturated at this point by parakeets driving Ubers) but it could also be any number of things, including your sales projections, or your competitive set, your weak business model or lack of traction, your unrealistic valuation or inadequate team, regulatory concerns, or no exit strategy. All that said, it’s probably just your irate case of halitosis.

2. The Shameful Ghost (it’s a ghost baby!)

No response to your email; none to your moderately chill text (“hey, checkin’ in”) or your telegram (because you’ve adapted your model and are now pitching parakeet beak tanning lotion). Just zippo, an ignore, as if you said something offensive, or the HR department told them it was wise to not actually say anything at all, lest there’s some sort of bullying lawsuit.

And so you’ll fret, wringing your hands, while gazing at the cages and cages of parakeets you’ve accumulated and….

Wait, what’s that?

Yes yes, you’ll have checked your inbox and there’s…

3. The Ask for A Second Meeting!

Is this maybe a signal of interest? All this time you are thinking your baby is ugly, but now you’re practically cooing and gurgling like a baby yourself.

And so now you’ll feel hope bubble up like acid reflux, and lickity split, you’ll reach for your prilosec while dropping everything else you’ve been doing to write a response, stat, immediately, right damn now because if you don’t then maybe the VCP will forget you ever existed.

(PS: it’s really the third meeting that actually counts. Hang in there, pal. And good luck.)

(PPS: in all honesty, I think your baby is real cute)

(PPPS: Hannah Barbara Cartoons rule)