Your company's founding month determines its startup zodiac sign — from The Bootstrapper to The Zombie Unicorn. Find your sign below for this week's reading. New reading every Monday. Purely for entertainment; please don't raise or not raise a round based on this.
Self-funded, allergic to term sheets, secretly proud of the ramen diet.
You will be tempted to hire a VP of Growth. Hire a second engineer instead.
Third business model this year. First one that's actually working.
Somewhere, an old cap table entry is quietly grateful you didn't give up in month 14.
Incredible narrative, TBD fundamentals, unreasonably good at demo day.
Someone screenshots your tweet. Assume it's not for the reason you hope.
Heads-down, ships relentlessly, forgets to tell anyone.
Someone asks about your GTM strategy. You mumble something about “the product speaking for itself.” It does not, yet.
Raises entirely on vibes, warm intros, and a truly excellent LinkedIn game.
Someone asks for your deck “just to keep in the loop.” Send it. It costs you nothing and might cost them everything.
Swings enormous, burns fast, occasionally actually lands on the moon.
Someone asks if this is even possible. You have never once considered whether it's possible. Full speed ahead.
Always “closing soon.” Has been closing soon since March.
The good news: the round is real. The other news: so is the runway math.
Boring, profitable, blissfully ignored by TechCrunch, laughing all the way to the exit.
Nobody asks you to speak at a conference this week. Your bank account remains unbothered by this fact.
Third startup. Learned everything the hard way twice already.
You hire slower this time. Painful. Correct. Slow is smooth, smooth is fast — you know this now.
Rose from re-priced ashes. Still standing. Still fundable, somehow.
Your new 409A is honest for the first time in two years. Refreshing, in a grim sort of way.
Defined the market. Everyone else is just describing your product with different words.
Your product name has quietly become a verb in your category. That's the whole game, actually.
Still “a unicorn” on paper. Spiritually, deeply tired.
You're still called a unicorn in every article. Nobody mentions the unicorn hasn't eaten in a while.