32: Chris Sacca - Drifting Back to Real

Somebody asked, so what do all your most successful founders have in common? And I was trying to find a thread. It wasn't how they grew up. There's no doubt that immigrant kids, just the things they overcome to get here and build stuff, their hustle, their desire, their focus is insurmountable. People who grew up with single parents have that same fire, that same adaptability and resilience. They've taken on responsibility in such an early age. Like, it's some. You can't deny that they're disproportionate representation within successful entrepreneurial roles or at these companies. But I kept looking, I'm like, are they scientists? Are they computer scientists? Did they have a hustle? A lot of them did, but not all of them. But the single thing I found among every one of our most successful founders is not only did they not prepare for the downside case, it just wasn't one of the options in the math.

We are significant investors in Fusion, operating the world's only dedicated fusion fund. Initially, we undertook a couple of small fusion projects with family office money, primarily for learning. The common refrain was always, "Fusion is 30 years away and always will be." For at least three decades, this held true. However, the actual productivity, specifically the net energy gains from these projects, began to increase exponentially—in fact, double exponentially. When we discussed this with people outside the fusion industry, their reaction was often, "That's where dreams go to die; all your money will just be wasted." Our response was, "Those of you saying that simply haven't visited a lab recently."

My wife, Crystal, is truly the silent co-founder of everything I've ever done. We've been best friends since we were 18. She friend-zoned me for 14 years, but now we have three kids. She's always the first person to tell me, "You're full of it," "That's a tired idea," "I disagree," or "You're missing the point." She might even say, "Are you serious with that right now?" She cares little for celebrities, often asking, "Are you actually friends with them?" She's equally unimpressed by world leaders. I admire her for that. This perspective has helped me avoid the pitfall of believing everything I say is gospel, or that everything I do is infallible.

Because I present myself online and tweet about my life, people often assume they know me. They approach me, invade my personal space, and speak to me as if we're old friends. So, when I appear on a podcast, I strive to be authentic and discuss topics listeners might not expect. This reinforces their belief that we have a personal connection. This phenomenon became clear to me when I met Alex Blumberg. For that particular episode, I wasn't convinced that podcasts were a viable business yet. You were there; you were working with us at the time. However, I was absolutely going to take a meeting with Alex Blumberg. He had been a significant influence on me; "This American Life" was almost like my church.

I was always smart enough not to gamble, but I was fascinated by it, especially the narrative. I was fascinated by lotteries, how everyone attaches themselves to the outcome and that narrative. How would you spend that money? It's a dollar and a dream, knowing it's a losing game. I only play rigged games, and to me, venture investing is rigged. I am a horrible public markets investor. I used to get invited on CNBC, but I haven't done it in years. I would talk about a stock, and it wouldn't move in either direction. Volume and price wouldn't change. I'm not a good picker of public stocks, and I can't affect the outcome. In venture, people have accused me of being self-promotional. I think, if I don't promote myself, who will?

In his special, "Blocks," he discussed all the obstacles he's encountered—things that have either become challenges he's overcome or still weigh him down. The emotional response was so significant, not just from audiences but from peers, that he turned it into a podcast. On this podcast, he invites performers and creatives to discuss their own blocks. This individual is highly respected, and these conversations are incredibly raw. He even got Jerry Seinfeld to admit to imposter syndrome. Jerry still struggles with the idea that he's not a stand-up comedian. Neil is uniquely skilled at this, and it takes immense courage to discuss the difficulties faced along the way.

Every person at Lowercarbon shares in the upside and in each deal. I needed a culture where everyone was incentivized to high-five and eager to help. I remember a time at Google when I felt I became, in air quotes, "powerful." My work partner wrote in meeting notes, which were public, "Chris doesn't know what to do about this." These notes were published to everyone. When I read them later, we had a huge fight. I felt ruined, thinking, "Everyone will know I don't know what to do."