Fishbowl (16 page)

19

BY THE END
of September Ben had left the house to go back to Stanford for his senior year, taking his aquarium with him. One of the programmers had left as well, although the other one living at the house had got a leave of absence to stay on at Fishbowll. Chris was spending less time at the house and more in LA. On one of his trips back, he suggested to Andrei that they get an office. Andrei was resistant, but they needed more programmers and people with commercial skills. Were they all going to live and work in the house? Eventually Andrei agreed. Chris contacted a realtor who was recommended to him by the guy who had found him FriendTracker's office in LA four years previously.

In the third week of October, just shy of its first birthday, Fishbowll moved into its first office, a bare, 1,200 square-foot space over a frozen yoghurt shop and minimart on Ramona Street, Palo Alto. Desks came from a local second-hand office furniture store. Other stuff depended on whatever anyone wanted to bring in. But there was one thing that Andrei insisted on. He drove with Ben to a store called Fish Palace and together they bought a six-foot aquarium and stocked it with three dozen fish.

On the day they moved into the office on Ramona, Fishbowll consisted of eleven people: Andrei, Kevin, Ben, Eric Baumer the infrastructure guy, and seven programmers. Chris, who was a lot more than a passive investor, made it a round dozen. Ben would come into the office some days when he had time between classes and Chris was there when he came up from LA, although he and
Andrei often hung out in the house on La Calle Court, where Andrei and Kevin and one of the programmers continued to live.

Life in the office was chaotic. It was the scene of typically heroic Fishbowll wheelspins as the user base continued to grow and new features were added, but everything else was dealt with ad hoc by whoever had the time and inclination. Eric commuted from Hayward each day but talked mostly to Chris, even if Chris was in LA and Andrei was sitting three yards away from him. Ben was handling press relations, customer service, legal matters and just about any other outward-facing stuff from his student room at Stanford, fitting it in around his course programme, which didn't make for the most responsive approach to a workload that was growing exponentially as the website expanded. For three consecutive weekends the infrastructure was close to breaking, despite Eric's titanic efforts to keep the site running. Eventually he rang Chris in frustration and threatened to quit.

Chris got on a plane, came into the office and sat down with Andrei and Eric. He told Andrei that Eric didn't feel valued by him and that Eric thought Andrei had no idea what it was taking to keep the site running.

‘Eric, that's not true,' said Andrei. ‘You're a Stakhanovite.'

‘I don't want to be a fucking Stakhanovite!' yelled Eric. ‘I want to run a site that's got a better than even chance of staying up! We need to do stuff to the architecture so it doesn't suck up so much server space.'

‘I know,' said Andrei.

‘No. We need to do it now! Not after you've done whatever hundred thousand projects you've got in mind. Now, Andrei!'

‘He's right,' said Chris. ‘And you don't need to be doing that kind of stuff yourself, Andrei. You should be working on new stuff, groundbreaking stuff. You need more programmers doing this kind of thing.' He glanced at Eric. ‘Can you excuse us for a minute?'

It was a nugatory request, because there were no partitions in the office and everyone was already listening to what they were
saying anyway. But as requested, Eric got up and stalked off to sit symbolically on the edge of a desk a couple of yards away.

‘You know what?' said Chris. ‘Let's take a walk.'

He and Andrei went out and started walking up Ramona.

‘You asked me to join Fishbowll because you wanted my advice,' said Chris.

Andrei nodded.

‘And I presume you want me to be honest with you.'

‘Of course I do.'

‘OK, well, I think there are a couple of things that have happened. The first is, Andrei, you're running a business now. I don't claim to have all that much experience in that area, but when a guy like Eric, a guy who's been keeping this website running when I don't know how it's been possible to do that, given the features you keep adding … when a guy like Eric says he doesn't feel you listen to him, you need to take notice of that.'

‘I don't know what he's talking about! He's a Stakhanovite. I've told him he's a Stakhanovite.'

‘That's not what I mean. When it comes to the operational stuff, he talks to me.'

‘What's wrong with that?'

‘Well, I shouldn't be running your operations. Trust me – you don't want me doing that. Basically, Andrei, you need to decide what you want to do. What's your role? Do you want to develop the functionality, do you want sit there coding all day – and I'm not saying you shouldn't, because your ability to do that is what's got Fishbowll to where it is today – or do you want to lead this business? Now, I found Eric, and I found this office, but there's a million things that need to be done. We need more people. Someone's got to recruit them, Andrei. And the more people we recruit, the more time and ability it's going to take to manage them. Maybe we should get a CEO, and then you can focus on the coding.'

Andrei stopped on the pavement. ‘Is that what you think? Is that what you came up here to tell me?'

‘It's an option. Someone needs to lead this business. As a business. Not just do coding.'

Andrei folded his arms. ‘You're right. I need to decide.'

Chris nodded.

‘I want to lead this business.'

‘That was quick.'

‘I know what I want to do,' said Andrei.

‘You might want to think about it.'

‘No. I don't want to just do coding. I've seen what's been happening. I know we need more people. I should have done something about it. I need to step up to the plate.' Andrei looked at him. ‘Or do you think I'm making a mistake?'

‘Not necessarily. Not if you want to do it. But if you want to be CEO, then you need a manager to manage the management stuff.'

‘Isn't that what Eric does?'

‘Eric handles the infrastructure. I'm talking about … call it a chief operating officer. Someone who'll do the recruitment, manage the people, all that stuff. You can do what the CEO does – lead the company, set the vision, decide where the people focus their time and where they don't.'

‘And code?'

‘The
really
important stuff. Only that.'

Andrei started to walk on. ‘A chief operating officer. You mean some guy in a suit.'

Chris sighed. He'd had his own troubles with guys in suits, but they had their role. ‘We can get him out of a suit.'

‘Why can't you be the COO?'

Chris laughed.

‘Why not?'

‘Trust me, you don't want me doing that. You want someone who knows how to really operate a business. Someone who loves to do that stuff, all the shitty little stuff, day in day out.'

‘I don't want anyone in a suit in my office.'

‘Then we'll get him out of it. And we'll get someone who knows
what an internet start-up is like. But honestly, Andrei, if we don't get this person now, I fear for what's going to happen.'

‘We're going corporate,' muttered Andrei.

‘We're facing reality,' said Chris.

Andrei walked in silence. He knew that Chris was right. And he also knew that if he was going to lead Fishbowll as it continued to grow, if that was the challenge he was setting himself, he had to stop wishing it could forever be like it had been in Robinson House or La Calle Court. It was only a year since Fishbowll had started, but those days were already gone. It was childish to pine for them, childish to complain about going corporate. Andrei promised himself then and there that he would never complain about it again. If he did, everyone else would too.

‘I know a headhunter who does a lot of recruitment for startups. She can help us get a COO. I can handle this for you, Andrei. It's just … you need to be happy that we need to do it. And I really think we don't have a—'

‘I know,' said Andrei. ‘Enough. I know. You're right.'

‘So I'll go and talk to this headhunter?'

‘No.'

‘I thought you said—'

‘No, you shouldn't handle this for me. I should handle this myself. I have to start to lead this business, isn't that what you're saying? If I can't do more than code the website, then I should hand over to someone else.'

‘And you're sure you want to do that? A lot of start-ups bring in a professional CEO. The VC firms almost always demand it.'

‘We haven't gone to a VC firm. It's my call.' Andrei paused. ‘You really don't think I'm making a mistake?'

‘You're a programmer. You have no experience of being a CEO. You have a massively growing business.' Chris grinned. ‘Hell, I say, do it!'

‘I'm serious,' said Andrei. ‘Tell me if I'm wrong.'

Chris nodded. ‘Seriously? I don't know if you're going to be a good CEO. But neither do you. And that's a good thing. I'd be a
lot more worried if you said you thought you were going to be great. You're going to have to learn a hell of a lot, Andrei. Don't kid yourself.'

‘I'm willing to learn.'

Chris grinned again. ‘Right! Let's go and get you a damn good COO.'

‘Give me the name of the headhunter.'

‘Let's go and see her together.'

‘I said I'd handle it,' said Andrei. ‘I need to lead. I need to do this stuff.'

‘Andrei, there are a lot of flaky start-ups out there. If she's going to get you a great guy, she needs to know this isn't one. Let me come with you. Trust me on this. That's the first thing you've got to learn, Andrei. What you can do yourself and when you need help.'

Andrei looked at Chris for a moment. ‘OK. We should have a meeting with the guys. They need to know about this COO thing.'

‘It's about time you all got job titles as well.'

Andrei stopped himself from grimacing.

‘Fishbowll is going to be very big, Andrei. You're on the cusp. A year from now, you won't know this company.'

Andrei felt of surge of foreboding, almost fear. Maybe he shouldn't try to be the CEO.

Chris laughed. He put an arm around Andrei's shoulder. ‘Buckle up, Andrei. It's going to be a hell of a ride.'

That night, Andrei and Chris sat down with Kevin and Ben at Yao's. Over a traditional Fishbowll noodle meal, Andrei told them that he had decided to hire a COO. Predictably, Kevin protested about guys in suits, but Chris made a strong case in support of Andrei's decision. By now the relationship between Chris and Kevin was close enough for that to make a difference to Kevin. Even so, he wasn't happy. He was even less happy when Andrei said they needed job titles and told them he was going to be the CEO.

‘Original,' said Kevin.

‘Ben, I thought we'd call you the CMO.'

‘What's that?'

‘Chief Mind Officer.'

Ben smiled.

‘Kevin. I thought, maybe … President of Getting Things Done. What do you think?'

‘It's …' Kevin shrugged, trying not to show that he actually liked the title. ‘There are worse names.'

‘And Chief Stakhanovite,' added Andrei. ‘All the Stakhanovites in the company are in your tribe.'

‘What about you?'

‘If I'm a Stakhanovite, I'm in your tribe as well. Now, Chris …' Andrei looked at him appraisingly ‘… for you …'

‘I don't need a title. I'm an investor. Occasionally, I might give you a little advice.'

‘Exactly. You're the Primary Counsellor.'

‘If you like.'

‘And
Éminence Grise
.'

‘You're going to put that on my business card?'

‘Absolutely.' Andrei glanced at Kevin. ‘Just because we have titles, it doesn't mean they have to be anything a guy in a suit would think up.'

The COO Andrei and Chris recruited was a 34-year-old called James Langan who had worked at a couple of big names in the internet world. Andrei met him three times during the recruitment process and thought he could get on with him. Langan, for his part, hadn't actually worked at a start-up but he visited the office on Ramona Street and thought he could deal with the environment. He joined with a grant of 1.5 per cent of the company's stock and an accrual scheme that would see him double that share if he stayed for three years.

By now Fishbowll was fifteen months old and had over 120 million registered users. Although the user number still wasn't
public information, there were some pretty good estimates out there and Fishbowll, which had already been noticed by the tech media, began to penetrate the consciousness of the mainstream press. Numerous articles appeared on the company with pieces in
Newsweek, Time, The New York Times
, the
Los Angeles Times
, Britain's
Economist
and, of course, every tech publication. The idea of meta-networks as the next big thing in social media was gaining currency, with Fishbowll being cited as the first true example to have come into existence.

Andrei still avoided giving interviews but the company had no formal press policy. Ben spoke to journalists and Kevin was always happy to supply a libertarian quip if a reporter happened to get hold of his number.

That was one of the first things James Langan tried to bring under control. He ordered a no-speak policy without prior approval and hired PR firm Jennings Massey to handle the press until he was able to find a permanent spokesperson.

Ben was relieved. He found the press inquiries repetitive. Reporters wanted to talk to Andrei, not him, and some of them got quite hostile at the tenth time of telling that Andrei had no interest in talking to them. Ben was also conscious that things he said might have legal repercussions of which he wasn't even aware. Langan hired an in-house lawyer, which had the added benefit of taking the National Security Letters out of his hands. The number that the FBI now addressed to him was so large that all he ever did was hand them on to one of the programmers to pull the data, without even trying to verify if the request was legal.