34. Epilogue. Death of a Startup
by diariodiunsopravvissutoallacrisi
February 22, 2015, HOURS 04:36
YEAR II, DAY 8
DAY OF LIFE OF THE STARTUP N. 373
The Great C won.
One year. One year and few days.
Gone.
But these days were not wasted days.
But now everything is gone.
Tomorrow the company will be bailed out. And I don’t want to explain what it is or how it works. Just ask google. I am really sad.
Our final battle against The Great C was about 5 days of test looking for the critical mass, and with a relevant amount of money invested in Google Adwords and Facebook AD).
With big investor’s eyes on us.
This was our final battle.
I don’t’ know what we did wrong. I just know that we didn’t reach the best configuration and we didn’t reach the expected goal of the investor and so…..no investment, no money, no project, no startup.
The other reason is that we risked. We risked and we finished all the capital of the company. The advertsing investment was our last “cash card” to play. We don’t have a Plan C. It’s over.
Every step taken by a startup, every test, every choice, every step towards what we think might be the way to success, depends on a huge number of variables. Some of them we are able to control, some others not. So the only thing we can do is to try to reduce reality to simple schemes (for how wrong) and hope to have “calculated” the right route to success. It is not our case. For this reason I believe that success for a startup (or for a company!, the term startup is just crap and trend) is difficult to achieve: it must be a very rare astral conjuncture, which includes, as mentioned, things that we can control and things that we can’t control.
It’s time to return to Italy, go home, give up, get a job just to earn and try to survive so long as, someone (perhaps) be able to defeat this damned Great Economic Crisis. And then, only then, perhaps, I’ll wake up from this nightmare.
Today everyone lost. I lost, Vittoria lost, Italy lost.
It is arrived. The Great C knocks at our door. We are in its ranks.
We go to the airport, one-way ticket to Italy.
This country, Italy, sick to the bone, where everyone and anyone is a zombie that eats society, where everyone and anyone complains more than they actually try to fight the Great C, where everyone and anyone is victim and victimizer, some with more, some with minor faults.