Concluding gracefully

      A few decades ago, while securing funding for a startup, I left a memorable impression on an investor by discussing not just our potential success, but also what could occur if we failed. Later, in a casual conversation, I inquired about what had influenced his decision to invest in us. He recounted that during the pitch, I had remarked, “And if all our predictions and expectations are incorrect, we will use the remainder of our funding for a spectacular farewell dinner for all our investors. You may lose your investment, but at least you'll enjoy a wonderful evening in return.”

      I don’t remember this being part of my initial pitch or strategy. I likely just expressed it spontaneously to lighten the mood, but it clearly resonated with the investor. He mentioned it was refreshing to encounter an entrepreneur who wasn't overly optimistic about their pitch. The fact that I had a plan prepared for both success and failure indicated to him that I was sincere and pragmatic.

      The startup ultimately did not succeed, but we still treated our investors to a luxurious dinner in the end — and we went a step further. Once we realized that our forecasts were off, we presented our investors with a choice: we could attempt to pivot and chase a miracle, or we could refund them what remained of our funding. We opted for the second choice, which they also preferred, resulting in everyone receiving a portion of their investment back (about 40%), alongside a delightful evening filled with good food and drinks. When I later sought funding for another startup a few years afterward, nearly all of those investors participated in our initial round.

      While I would have preferred to achieve success with that startup, I still view it as a worthwhile endeavor. I gave it a go and had a contingency plan in place for when my venture didn’t pan out, and through that experience, I forged relationships that extended beyond that single startup.

      As you may have heard, The Next Web, the company I founded in 2006, is approaching the end of its existence. The events and media division is being dissolved, and only TNW Spaces will continue. TNW Programs was sold previously and will carry on as well. There will not be another TNW Conference, and soon there won't be any new articles on the site; people, including myself, are losing their jobs. It’s a difficult transition, but I’m coping well because it feels both natural and logical. When we sold TNW to the FT in 2019, we were filled with ambition and optimism, and I would have loved for the company and brand to outlast me. However, as the business faced challenges, I also felt at peace with the company concluding gracefully.

      When you read a captivating book, there’s a moment toward the end when you start to read more slowly because you don’t want it to conclude. I cherish these moments, as they signal a rewarding experience. Yet, it's also understood that good stories require good endings. So, this marks the conclusion of a great story in which I’ve relished participating.

      I will continue to write, but this will be my final official TNW piece. I would be thrilled if you would follow my writing on Substack. It will shift from a focus on tech to a more unpredictable style, but it will remain just as insightful as before.

      Boris, signing off.