On the day of the off-site, my mind was already made up, although I don't think I knew it yet. The event took place in a conference room at the nearby Hyatt Regency; the facilitator was Dan Foxx, a consultant who assists executive teams with goal setting. Dan led us through a series of visualization exercises. First, we were to imagine in great detail an initial public offering for Gazooba (or not-Gazooba). Dan then asked employees to calculate how much money they'd make on their options and what they'd do with their windfalls. Most replied that they would buy things for their families. I said I'd donate a hefty chunk to my old summer camp. After each person spoke, Dan smiled and said, "Wow. Thank you for sharing that."
Now that our dreams were on the table, Dan took one step back. "OK," he said, "we know where we want to be. Now, what do we have to do to get there? To reach this stock price, how much revenue and profit would we need? How many customers? How many analysts covering the company? By when would we have to do all this?"
While my colleagues responded to Dan's questions, I stayed silent. I felt as though I were an oarsman headed someplace I didn't want to go on a boat I had once steered. Dan, who had been writing on the board, paused and called a time-out. "I've run this exercise with a lot of other companies," he said, looking out at us, "and there's always a lot more excitement than there is here. Is there a dead moose in the room?"
I knew what Dan meant. I was the moose. Looking over at Colin, I asked him with my eyes for permission to break my promise of confidentiality. He nodded.
"Dan," I said, "there is a moose here. I've been talking with Colin about what my role will be at Gazooba, and we've agreed that there isn't one that will both fulfill me and benefit the company. So I'll be leaving at the end of September."
My coworkers sat there, stunned. For many of them, I had become synonymous with Gazooba, and my announcement was akin to the Jolly Green Giant's declaring that he could no longer envision playing out his personal destiny among the sweet peas and pearl onions. Dan broke the silence. "Andy," he said, "I can see from your face that you are truly committed to Gazooba, and that this is a decision made out of commitment. Is there any message you'd like to leave the session with today?"
I hadn't prepared anything, but I blurted out: "Of all the things I've accomplished, I'm most proud of the people I've hired at Gazooba. This is an amazing group that will go on to achieve great things. I've worked for companies where people talk behind one another's backs, where you have to assume people are talking about you behind your back. At Gazooba I never felt that, and I'm proud to call everyone here my friend." By the end, I was choking back tears.
In the preceding weeks I had discovered that one of my cofounders, Zen, had been traveling a similar path and had arrived at the identical destination. Now, seeing me bathed in the spotlight of emotional catharsis, Zen sought to steer some attention his way by announcing that he, too, would be leaving, as soon as someone could be found to assume his role of chief technology officer. Of the founding triumvirate, only Shanti -- who had matured into a kick-ass product manager -- would stay on.
On my way out of the hotel, Doug Gross, our sales manager, stopped me in the hallway. "I just want you to know, Andy, that I joined Gazooba because of you, because of your vision and your enthusiasm," he told me. I was enormously gratified, especially considering that Doug's first impression of me was formed at our launch event, where I was acting as a mime. The fact that I could barely summon words to answer him seemed somehow fitting.
So I didn't reach the promised land with Gazooba after all. But I still own a chunk of it, and my severance package is nothing to sneeze at. What's next for me? Well, since I seem unable to shed my entrepreneurial skin, I'll stay out here in Silicon Valley looking for the next big thing and chronicling the search in my Inc. column. (Incidentally, readers who know of any next big things are invited to contact me at the E-mail address below.) But first I'm taking some time off to scuba dive, snowboard, windsurf, and participate in assorted other activities that don't require a consultant. Zen has suggested that we rent a small office near our favorite windsurfing spot and use it to develop new business ideas.
And I expect I'll be wallowing -- just a little -- in nostalgia. Last night I reread the first installment of E-Diaries, which I wrote exactly a year ago. In what amounted to Gazooba's birth legend, I described giving up the pleasant certainties of life in Manhattan for the shimmering question mark that is Silicon Valley. "It's going to be hell out there," whined the Andy of a year ago to Zen, "working 24 hours a day, beholden to a bunch of VCs."
"Yes," Zen had replied. "And you'll love it."
He was right.
Andrew Raskin, the cofounder and former CEO of Gazooba Corp., is now a full-time seeker of opportunities in Silicon Valley and beyond.
E-Diaries:
Episode 1: A New Beginning
The Game of the Name
Take My Job Offer, Please. Pretty Please
There's No Such Thing as a Free Launch
Gimme Shelter
Bridge Financing over the River Scared
Let the Good Times Roll
There's a New Man in Town
I Really Must Be Going
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