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Why Founders Should Stop Letting VCs Put Them in a Box
Sara Bareilles wrote Love Song not because she was heartbroken, but because a record label told her to create something “radio friendly.” They wanted proof she could play by their rules. Instead, she gave them an anthem about refusing to be reduced to their template.
That song has been looping in my head every time a VC asks me for yet another pro forma.
The Comfort Props
Here’s the thing about pro formas: they’re outdated the minute you hit “send.” Markets shift. Retailers change their timelines. Deals accelerate or stall. The numbers you asked me to invent so you can feel more comfortable? They’re obsolete by the time you open the file.
You don’t actually need them to know if I’m going to win. What you need is to decide whether you believe in me. When you ask for a pro forma, what you’re really asking for is a prop. A piece of paper that makes you feel like you’re in control of the unknown. But let’s be honest: if we’re building something great, control is an illusion.
Greatness Doesn’t Fit Into a Box
Great companies don’t scale because they stayed inside the guardrails of someone else’s spreadsheet. They scale because the founder saw around corners the market didn’t even know existed.
And yet, we’re constantly told to fit that into a box:
A neat column of projected revenue.
A tidy chart of unit economics.
A 5-year plan as if anyone actually knows what year five will look like.
I know more about my business than you ever will — and I also know the future won’t unfold the way either of us thinks. So why am I reporting to you in your format, instead of building the company in mine?
Belief Over Boxes
Either you believe in the vision, or you don’t. Either you trust the founder, or you don’t. Because if your confidence rests on whether I can generate an Excel sheet that bends reality into your preferred assumptions, then we’re not aligned. I’m not here to write you a pro forma. I’m here to build something that actually matters.
For Every Founder Who’s Been There
If you’ve ever sat across from an investor who made you feel like the entire fate of your company hinged on whether you could hand over a deck full of numbers you already knew weren’t real — you know the frustration. That energy isn’t mutually beneficial. It’s extraction dressed up as due diligence. The right investors don’t need you to fit into their box. They’ll recognize that the box was never big enough for what you’re building anyway. So no, I’m not gonna write you a pro forma. Not your pro forma. Not the one that makes me contort greatness into a spreadsheet so you can feel safe. The one I’ve already got — the vision, the traction, the momentum — that’s the one worth betting on.
