The problems started when being a founder or a venture capitalist became a job.

Maya sipped her coffee, staring at her fourth pitch deck this month. Her "blockchain for pets" startup was identical to hundreds launched that quarter. It didn't matter. Everyone was a founder now.

The café buzzed with desperate entrepreneurship. Former doctors, teachers, and engineers hunched over laptops, all "disrupting" industries they'd never worked in. Universities offered "Founder Studies" degrees.

"How's your pre-seed looking?"

"Fifteen meetings this week," Maya replied. They both knew the ritual: exaggerate metrics, name-drop investors, hide dwindling savings.

"So what makes you passionate about pet health?" he asked mechanically.

Maya opened her mouth to recite her practiced origin story. Instead, she whispered, "Nothing."

The truth felt foreign on her tongue. She'd wanted to be a founder, not to build something meaningful. The title was the destination.

https://x.com/wquist/status/1906735208994312519?s=46

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"She'd wanted to be a founder, not to build something meaningful. The title was the destination."