The Startup Wife(62)
“Asha’s been working around the clock to deliver the subscriptions platform, and that’s what brought you to the table.”
Jules tells Craig the good news. Subscription revenue is holding steady. New users join the platform every day, and they are as loyal as ever. “Sticky” is what we call it, as if the thing we should be most proud of is having the pulling power of flypaper.
“But it’s not all roses, is it, Jules?” I signal to Jules, and Jules gives Craig the bad news. “The way we designed the subscriptions was a PR coup,” he says. “People are talking about Cyrus as the people’s CEO, the guy who makes money while also maintaining his integrity. But giving people the choice to pay what they want creates some uncertainty going forward. It’s difficult for Gaby to build a financial model off of that. And there’s a downward trend.” Jules pulls up a spreadsheet showing that the average contribution from each member of the platform is going down.
“You need to find an alternative revenue stream,” Craig says.
Cyrus shifts in his seat at the head of the table. “I don’t see why we need to take any immediate action.”
“If the trend continues,” Jules says, “we’ll be down year on year.”
“We can’t have that,” Craig says. He sits up and puts his elbows on the table. “We need to acquire a company that gives us strategic leverage while providing us with potential revenue we can use in case your WAIs old men decide they need to put money aside for their funeral plots instead of their eulogies.”
He says that whole sentence without taking a breath. Maybe he does have some kind of superpower, I think for a minute. Maybe Cyrus saw something that Jules and I missed. Then his assistant comes in with bowls of what she calls beet polpetti, and when I take a bite, they are indeed little balls made of beets that taste exactly like beets.
“Look,” Craig says, his teeth stained purple, “a lot of folks are going to approach you now that you’re the flavor of the month. They’re going to sit on your board and suck up to you and not tell you that the ship is about to sink, or that you’re two mistakes away from being Keanu Reeves in Speed 2, you know, the one where the cruise ship is about to crash into the shore? I’m a value add because I won’t bullshit you. What you see is what you get. You’re gonna have to grow, open new offices, fund a global expansion, and buy up a lot of assets. And you definitely want someone on your team who’s willing to go all the way with you, not just sit back and watch the dollar signs but actually jump in there and get the work done.”
Jules and Cyrus are nodding. I guess Cyrus understands Keanu now.
We go through the rest of Gaby’s slides, and then we wrap up. Craig tells us we should come up with a list of possible companies to acquire (“You find ’em, I’ll bring ’em home,” he announces, suddenly Texan), and then we call it a day, but not before Craig attempts to entice us to base-jump out of his helicopter, an invitation we politely decline.
* * *
We’re in our hotel suite with a tray of room service between us, and Cyrus is listing the companies he wants to buy as if he’s writing a last-minute letter to Santa.
“We could buy Headzen,” Cyrus says. “Or Meditate.io.”
“We can’t afford them.”
“It’s important that we think big. Craig has deep pockets.”
Jules suggests the dog collar that sends a message when a pet owner has died.
“What’s that? Never heard of it.”
“It’s called HereBoy. Did you know that over fifty percent of solo pet owners who die in their homes get eaten by their pets?”
I gasp. “What the fuck?”
“It’s the dark side of domesticated animals.”
“Cats or dogs?”
“Equally out for blood.”
“Pets would be a little left-field,” Cyrus says.
“But somewhere in the area of death might be a good place to start,” Jules suggests.
“Death Tech,” Cyrus says. “Has anyone coined that?”
I’m going to look back and regret what I’m about to say. But it’s me who suggests it. “What about Marco’s thing?”
“That AI app that kills you online?” Jules asks.
“It doesn’t kill you because you’re already dead. It manages your death. Turns off all your socials, informs your contacts.”
“Sounds like a great idea. Is it in market?”
“I think they’re a few months away.”
“Still think we should buy Headzen,” Cyrus repeats. It grates on him, I know, that the CEO of Headzen is not himself as into meditation as one might expect. In fact, he told Cyrus jokingly at a CEO mixer last month that he never really cared for all that mindfulness crap, but boy, did it light up people’s phones.
“It’s a lot of extra work,” Jules reminds us. “Buying someone out, all the legals. And then you have to integrate them into your team. It can take months, and even then it’s rough going.”
“I don’t mind,” Cyrus says. “Sounds like fun.”
“Just buy someone who uses React Native,” I say. “Oh, and check their bathrooms to make sure they don’t force their female staff to pump milk in them.”