TUNA LIFE (5 page)

It was a humiliating experience. Andrew felt like the uncool kid on his first day of school, the wimpy one no one wanted to talk to. It was almost as if they were two old guys, perving at the young girls at a school dance. The rest of the aspiring entrepreneurs whispered among themselves, and shot Andrew and Ken the occasional glance. As if to say ‘What are you two still doing here? Get lost, losers’.

“Do they have something stronger than beer?” The voice belonged to an older man, the only one in the room older than them. He had wild bushy hair and was dressed in an old and tired tweed suit.

“Sorry,” Ken answered, “it’s beer or mineral water, most of the kids here are too young for anything else.”

“Do you work for Y-Bator?” the elderly man asked.

Andrew smiled. True, they were probably five to ten years older than most of the guys in the room, but he hadn’t considered that they actually looked like they were from the company that organised the event, that they didn’t even look like aspiring entrepreneurs. “No. We’re entrepreneurs, just a bit more mature than the rest of the room.”

The older man studied Andrew. “Welcome to the club,” he finally said.

“Are you too an entrepreneur?” Ken asked.

The older man shook his head. “I’m just a programmer. I’m looking for someone to start up a company with.”

Andrew extended his hand, and introduced himself.

9

Frank Geitner was walking around naked, with his hands clasped behind his back. He was humming on a classical Grieg piece as the music boomed around in the spartanly decorated living room. It was already one pm, but he had just woken up. He was most certainly not a morning person, more like the definition of a night owl. When everyone else was asleep; that’s when his brain worked the best, and he had a good one.

He had been working throughout the entire night, all the way until eleven o’clock this morning. Then he had awarded himself a quick two-hour powernap. And now he was waiting for these two young men he had met at Y-Bator’s networking event the evening before. They were already running five minutes late, and he could feel his irritation build. His annoyance was interrupted by the sound of the doorbell. He fetched a bathrobe from the closet, put out the joint he was smoking, and waved away the worst smell before walking across the living room floor to open the main door.

“Come in, boys” he said as he unhinged the security locks.

“Glad you had time to come around. Tea or coffee?” he asked while Ken and Andrew sat down at the kitchen table. Frank Geitner explained that he had a Master in Computer Science and had spent most of his working life in different IT companies throughout Europe, before settling in Australia a few years back. He didn’t say any more than necessary, and seemed very humble. Every time Andrew tried to dig a bit deeper into his life, he was quickly brushed aside. To talk about himself was obviously not Frank Geitner’s strongest side.

Andrew talked about the so-called new economy; apps for mobile phones. He described how he had missed out on the dotcom boom, and how this was his chance to be part of a unique time in history.

Frank Geitner disagreed.

“Andrew, you didn’t miss out on the internet boom. The internet boom has just started. You haven’t missed anything.”

“All the good dotcom names have been taken. It’s virtually impossible to launch a new service without having a ridiculously long name.”

“I’ll give you that one. But how many websites do you visit every day or every week? How many websites are part of your daily routine?”

Andrew counted the websites in his head. He checked news, Facebook, email. Apart from downloading a movie now and then, and buying cheap electronic gadgets, there weren’t really that many sites he visited on a daily basis. Ken did the same exercise. Between them they had eight to ten websites they visited weekly.

“As you can see, the internet is still in its infancy. It has transformed many industries, and will continue to do so over the next decade, but our daily use is still limited to a few simple needs. The reality is that we don’t have a clue what we want. The real home runs over the next few years will be the launching of services for needs we didn’t even realise we had.”

Ken nodded, interested. “So I guess you have some ideas for what this next great thing could be?”

“I’ve got something far better than an idea,” Frank Geitner replied. “I’ve got an almost finished product. I only need someone to help me market it.”

The kitchen went dead quiet. Andrew and Ken exchanged insecure looks. Frank Geitner had an almost complete product. There was no reason for him to include either Ken or Andrew in his team. They had nothing to contribute.

“But I must say it has been pretty boring to work alone here by myself the last year or so. I wouldn’t mind some colleagues. So what do you say, boys? Do you want to help me?”

Ken and Andrew could hardly believe their own ears. Had Frank just offered them to be part of his business? Andrew was the first to say something. “We would be honoured to work with you, Frank. But what exactly is it that you have developed?”

“I’m not quite sure,” Frank replied.

Ken and Andrew briefly exchanged looks again, before looking back at Frank, who was getting up from his chair. “Come. It’s easier if I show you. Maybe you have some ideas for what the technology can be used for,” he said, and walked over to the door to the basement.

10

Vesna Connor lifted her gaze from the iPad. She had just finished reading the first article Scott had written about
the new economy
. It was brilliant. How was it possible that they had missed noticing that an entire new industry had developed on the Gold Coast in the last twenty-four months? Scott had written that the reason most likely was that these young entrepreneurs didn’t attend the traditional networking gatherings in the city. They didn’t go to fancy business lunches or mingle with the mayor. They lived on noodles and tuna fish, and their social arenas were Facebook and Tumblr. Scott Davis made a point that the world often worked in this way. Success spawned success. Many of the most successful companies in California and Silicon Valley had been founded by the same core of key people who had helped starting up PayPal, Google and Facebook.

LinkedIn, Facebook, Friendster, Yammer and Yelp - the list of companies started by the PayPal-mafia was ridiculously long. It was the same for key people in Google and Facebook. The funny thing was that these people weren’t necessarily the smartest ones when they started out. Often they didn’t even have the best ideas. But they did have three distinct advantages: They had a reputation – they had been part of a success story. They had a network – they knew the right people. And last but not least – they had seen that it was possible. They had seen that it was possible to create a multibillion-dollar company from a simple idea. That it was possible to conquer the world from a garage. They had lost the little man’s limitation of what was possible. Scott Davis had used a cheap journalistic trick. He had written about the Brit, Sir Richard Bannister, who in 1954 became the first to ever run an English mile in under four minutes, an achievement which at the time was considered physically impossible. The following twelve months, after Bannister had broken the four-minute barrier, thirty-six other athletes achieved the same. Richard Bannister had breached the mental barrier in people’s heads. He had shown the world that it was possible. Vesna Connor knew that this was a very simplified presentation of the facts. Richard Bannister had himself said in interviews that the whole myth had been created by creative sports journalists. The four-minute barrier had never been viewed as an impossible feat by the athletes. It was just another round number. The story, however, fit the article. They were supposed to create positivity, show that there were still opportunities on the Gold Coast, that everything was possible if you just set your mind to it.

Vesna Connor approved the article, which yet again was about the founders of Martini.com. The company had created a new social meeting place on the internet, and Scott Davis had written a long interview with the founders.

Reluctantly, she also approved his request to dig a bit deeper in the background of the people funding the new mobile app companies. The risk was too great for traditional banks. The companies therefore mostly based themselves on loans from friends and family, and what little savings they could scrape together. The huge game changer was that you didn’t need a fortune to launch a mobile service. You could easily develop a website or a mobile app for a few hundred bucks. If the product was good enough, the market and the capital would eventually find you. And this was the biggest game changer, and the real reason for all these new successful mobile app companies on the Gold Coast: The money had successfully found the companies. Risky money was being injected into these new companies at an ever-increasing rate. Whereas it was impossible to get investors to fund any real estate developments or traditional retail opportunities on the Gold Coast, the money was flowing freely into the mobile app companies.

It appeared that someone hadn’t read up on the history of the Gold Coast, and its less than stellar reputation for investment returns, Vesna thought. She had grown up hearing the white shoe brigade story every time there was a new boom on the Gold Coast.

The white shoe brigade was a collective term used to describe a group of real estate developers from the Gold Coast in the 1980s. Equipped with the gift of the gab and a pretty ordinary fashion sense they had conducted some pretty dodgy deals with the Queensland government that left a sour taste in the mouth of the nation, and tarnished the reputation of the Gold Coast as a safe place to do business for decades.

Let’s hope this is not another white shoe brigade we are witnessing the contours of, Scott Davis had written as a conclusion in his interview. He had been referring to the shiny white sneakers all the founders of Martini.com were wearing. It was the only sentence Vesna Connor had deleted from the article.

There was no need to bring up old stories.

11

Frank Geitner’s basement reminded Andrew of a university lab. The walls were covered with white boards, mathematical equations scribbled everywhere. Multiple flasks and decanters lay scattered around the room. For a moment Andrew wondered whether he had walked straight into a methamphetamine factory, Walter White’s little dungeon. Frank assured Andrew that he only used the equipment to perfect his vodka production. Ken’s eyes lit up when he heard the word
vodka
.

After having been given a quick tour of the basement they sat down in a couch, and Frank started up his laptop. “What I’ve developed is a technology that enables you to use your own laptop camera to take a picture of your pet. This, for example, is a picture of my cat Jazz. If I want to buy a collar or a basket for Jazz, then I only have to surf the internet, locate the product I am considering buying, copy it over to my program, and kaboom, in an instant I can see how Jazz will look wearing her new merchandise.

Andrew and Ken looked at each other, unsure whether Frank Geitner was joking or not. “Is this your product?” Andrew asked.

Frank nodded. “To be honest I developed it for myself. But it has now become part of my daily routine. Isn’t that the definition of a successful product?” Frank asked.

“But who’s the market? I can’t really envision a massive market for people wanting to see what their cats look like with a new collar.”

“The market for pet accessories is huge,” Frank replied. “I spend a fortune on Jazz every year. She needs bathing products, special combs for her fur. And don’t even get me started on her eating habits. I brought her down to Peppers Resort in Kingscliff last March. After that trip she only eats tiger prawns from Hervey Bay.”

“But this isn’t about you,” Andrew interjected, “You’re not representative for consumers. We need to develop a product for the masses, not for the weirdos.”

“Weirdos? What the hell do you mean by that?” Frank asked, raising his voice.

You could feel the tension in the room when Ken asked a simple question. “Can it be used on humans?”

“Can what be used on humans?” Frank asked.

“The technology. It’s basically just camera technology isn’t it, so can it be used on people? Can I take a picture of myself, find a piece of clothing I like on the internet, and see how I would look like wearing that piece of clothing?”

“I guess so. I would have to make some adjustments, some calibrations, but the principles would be the same. But I don’t understand. Who would want to test out a piece of clothing on a computer screen?” he asked.

“Just the rest of the population,” Andrew said with a smug smile. He could definitely see a potential for the technology Frank had developed. Yes, a few changes had to be made, and the technology was still very rudimentary, but he could definitely see a potential. “How much money do you need to come up with a finished product?” Andrew asked.

Frank shrugged his shoulders. “No idea.”

“Ok. Let’s say a hundred grand. That should be sufficient for the development. If we need additional funds to market the service, we can always raise more funds at a later stage. I’ll set up a new company later today. We all go in as equal partners. I’ll handle the financial bit. Ken design and legal. And you Frank, You’ll be our new CTO, our Chief Technology Officer.”

Andrew stared Frank straight in the eyes. He was playing a high-stakes game here. There was absolutely no reason for Frank to let either Andrew or Ken become part-owners of the technology he had created. That wasn’t totally correct, though. Frank had clearly just shown that he had absolutely no idea what the regular consumer wanted. If he was to ever make a single dollar off his technology, he needed Andrew and Ken, young people with knowledge about the market and its preferences.

“Deal.”

To Andrew’s surprise, Frank accepted the proposal straight up. No negotiations required. Andrew extended his hand, and they sealed the partnership with a handshake. Frank walked over to the bar and pulled out a bottle of his best home-brewed vodka.