The Dream: How I Learned the Risks and Rewards of Entrepreneurship and Made Millions by Gurbaksh Chahal Page A
Authors: Gurbaksh Chahal
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another lesson: Don’t expect anyone to help you.”
“Well, certainly not that guy. He just wanted to talk about himself.”
“At least it wasn’t a complete waste of time,” I said.
“How’s that?”
“If he can do it, I can do it.”
Days later, I put that fiasco behind me and decided to keep looking for investors. If people put money into your company, they’re saying they believe in you and that they think you’re going to succeed, and that’s a good thing. So Igenerated a number of press releases, managed to set up a few meetings, and went off to try to sell myself.
Again, the press releases were not that hard to figure out. I went back to the Internet, that wonderful font of information (and misinformation), and studied a number of press releases. It was a matter of filling in the blanks but doing it creatively. In some ways, it was a shot in the dark, but there are times when that’s all it takes. The trick is to give that shot as much direction as possible, and that comes from having information. The more information you have, the more likely you are to hit your target. To paraphrase the Rolling Stones, You’re not always going to know exactly what you’re doing, but if you try sometimes, and do the legwork, you might get what you need.
Traditionally, these introductory meetings start with the investors telling you a little bit about themselves and about some of their more successful ventures, and when they’re done they cede the floor, and it’s your turn to wow them. I had no history, of course—I was still a teenager—so I would start by telling them a little about Click Agents and about how well we were doing. Invariably, however, one of these people would interrupt and ask me to back up, to tell them about my prior experience.
“Before Click Agents?” I’d say, wary.
“Yes.”
“Well, nothing really. I dropped out.”
“Of college.”
“No. High school.”
“High school?”
“I’m in an accelerated college program now,” I said.
At that point, I could see I was losing them—which is probably a good argument for staying in school—and things would generally wind down fairly precipitously. But on at least two occasions there was genuine interest, and it looked as if a deal was a definite possibility. The more I thought about their interest, however, the more it worried me. I was young and inexperienced, and
different looking
, and I suspected that the investors would probably try to replace me. Venture capitalists look for a set persona in a CEO: It’s usually a middle-aged, Ivy League–educated, all-American guy, something I was definitely
not
. And while venture capitalists certainly do a lot of good things, there’s always the risk that they’ll take control. By accepting their investment, you are giving them not only a substantial chunk of the company but the power to make changes. If you’re not careful, somebody’s golfing buddy might end up taking your job. Remember: They are not investing in your company because they like you or because they are hoping to make the world a better place; they are doing it because they hope to make a lotof money. If you understand that, you might think twice about getting into bed with them. And that’s what I did: I decided that—for the time being, anyway—I’d push forward on my own.
So I got back to work, alone, and the business grew, and before long I was making real money. I began to help with the family finances, unusual for a teenager, certainly, but obviously the right thing to do. I’d pick up the tab for the groceries. Or pay for the extra toppings on pizza night. Or spring for a new refrigerator. But I didn’t go crazy. I was a first-time businessman. I knew there would be rainy days ahead, and I wanted to be prepared for them. My growing bank account was my insurance policy.
Within six months, I was generating well over $100,000 a month, but it didn’t mean that much to me. I knew, instinctively, that
“Well, certainly not that guy. He just wanted to talk about himself.”
“At least it wasn’t a complete waste of time,” I said.
“How’s that?”
“If he can do it, I can do it.”
Days later, I put that fiasco behind me and decided to keep looking for investors. If people put money into your company, they’re saying they believe in you and that they think you’re going to succeed, and that’s a good thing. So Igenerated a number of press releases, managed to set up a few meetings, and went off to try to sell myself.
Again, the press releases were not that hard to figure out. I went back to the Internet, that wonderful font of information (and misinformation), and studied a number of press releases. It was a matter of filling in the blanks but doing it creatively. In some ways, it was a shot in the dark, but there are times when that’s all it takes. The trick is to give that shot as much direction as possible, and that comes from having information. The more information you have, the more likely you are to hit your target. To paraphrase the Rolling Stones, You’re not always going to know exactly what you’re doing, but if you try sometimes, and do the legwork, you might get what you need.
Traditionally, these introductory meetings start with the investors telling you a little bit about themselves and about some of their more successful ventures, and when they’re done they cede the floor, and it’s your turn to wow them. I had no history, of course—I was still a teenager—so I would start by telling them a little about Click Agents and about how well we were doing. Invariably, however, one of these people would interrupt and ask me to back up, to tell them about my prior experience.
“Before Click Agents?” I’d say, wary.
“Yes.”
“Well, nothing really. I dropped out.”
“Of college.”
“No. High school.”
“High school?”
“I’m in an accelerated college program now,” I said.
At that point, I could see I was losing them—which is probably a good argument for staying in school—and things would generally wind down fairly precipitously. But on at least two occasions there was genuine interest, and it looked as if a deal was a definite possibility. The more I thought about their interest, however, the more it worried me. I was young and inexperienced, and
different looking
, and I suspected that the investors would probably try to replace me. Venture capitalists look for a set persona in a CEO: It’s usually a middle-aged, Ivy League–educated, all-American guy, something I was definitely
not
. And while venture capitalists certainly do a lot of good things, there’s always the risk that they’ll take control. By accepting their investment, you are giving them not only a substantial chunk of the company but the power to make changes. If you’re not careful, somebody’s golfing buddy might end up taking your job. Remember: They are not investing in your company because they like you or because they are hoping to make the world a better place; they are doing it because they hope to make a lotof money. If you understand that, you might think twice about getting into bed with them. And that’s what I did: I decided that—for the time being, anyway—I’d push forward on my own.
So I got back to work, alone, and the business grew, and before long I was making real money. I began to help with the family finances, unusual for a teenager, certainly, but obviously the right thing to do. I’d pick up the tab for the groceries. Or pay for the extra toppings on pizza night. Or spring for a new refrigerator. But I didn’t go crazy. I was a first-time businessman. I knew there would be rainy days ahead, and I wanted to be prepared for them. My growing bank account was my insurance policy.
Within six months, I was generating well over $100,000 a month, but it didn’t mean that much to me. I knew, instinctively, that
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