Fundraising Has Become Performance Art

I got invited to do a fake pitch to fake venture capitalists, for the possibility of receiving a fake investment.

The setup is incredible for this university-run "venture capital competition."

First, I submit my real pitch deck. Then, assuming the university staff decide I’m sufficiently investable to qualify for the privilege of receiving no investment, I get invited to participate.

I spend 3–4 hours pitching my real company. Students pretend to be VCs, interrogate me in due diligence, debate whether I’m investable, and eventually hand me a term sheet.

A fake term sheet.

For fake money.

Then actual investors judge the students on how convincingly they pretended to invest in me.

And what does the founder get? "Pitch practice."

Perfect. Because what founders desperately need after months of fundraising is more opportunities to pitch people who literally cannot invest. This feels like the final boss of modern fundraising.

Founders bring the company, the deck, the traction, the numbers, the time, the stress and the entertainment.

The students get experience.

The alumni get to come back and cosplay Sand Hill Road.

The university gets a competition.

And the founder gets imaginary dilution.

I’m more than happy to help students get real experience, but fundraising is the last place I want to play pretend and get simulated rejections.

At least in Monopoly, you get to hold the fake money.