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Reeta Sinha

The dotcom bug

I don't know if anyone else has noticed, but the buzz seems to be more of a low hum around the Bay Area. It's been that way since the NASDAQ "correction". The newspapers say we'll be fine. Slowdown of the economy? What slowdown? The tech sector is doing great. Sure, we've had dotcom layoffs, but the job market is still red-hot.

If you're not one of the haves (have stock options, that is) or if you're new to the Valley (like I am), the change is noticeable. It's hard to describe, actually, but you know that "What the heck...?!?" thing that happens when someone throws ice-cold water on your face to wake you up? It's kind of like that around here these days. There aren't as many dotcom ads on TV, "VC" isn't mentioned every other word, and I can get a table at Starbucks on a Sunday morning now.

It's hit some folks hard. I heard on the news that the real-estate market might be the first victim. A $1 million home might have to actually sell for... $1 million now. This is, apparently, good news, after reports that home prices had increased over 40% during the past few years. And while houses are still selling (the realtors assure us), some homes now stay on the market for a few days, instead of just hours.

What's a speculator to do?

And all those guys who go around chanting "IPO, IPO, IPO"? Some of them have had to take up consulting jobs. They now bill by the hour so their bills can be paid on time. I guess being worth a lot on paper isn't quite the same as money in the bank.

On the other hand, some of the Valley's young millionaire-types don't seem to be that worried. So what if their stock options aren't worth as much as they were a year ago? When you've got passion and at least one credit card that isn't maxed out, why worry? Don't get me wrong, the haves do have their own woes. It seems the wait for a Porsche or a BMW these days is up to four months.

Life is tough.

Dotcom fever may have cooled a bit, but the bug is still in the air. Indians in the Valley, I've noticed, are particularly vulnerable. Do you remember the good old days when owning a Sony TV, two cars (a Honda Accord and a Toyota Camry) and a house in a good school district meant "Success, Indian Style"? Now, desi life seems to have no meaning unless you've started your own dotcom.

A few weeks ago I went to a party and noticed a guy walk in. No, he bounced in. He was literally walking on air, grinning nonstop ear to ear. I watched some in the crowd greet him excitedly. They grabbed his hand, pumping it vigorously, their "Kya yaar, we don't see you any mores" interspersed with a few enthusiastic "Congrats!" An elderly man said, "Kyon? Aaj kal bahut hans rahe ho." Yes, he did seem to be smiling an awful lot. Much more than when I'd seen him last fall at Diwali. That's it, I thought. He got married. December is peak-fare and marriage season, so that must explain the spring in his step, the gleam in his eye and his radiance, like the glow of mothers-to-be.

Or, maybe it was the flush of dotcom fever.

About 15 minutes later, another guy arrived. His family had come earlier. This is symptomatic of dotcom fever. The afflicted arrive late or leave early from most social gatherings -- those all-important VC meetings, you know. The scene from above replayed as I savoured my second gulab jamun; congratulations all around, "I haven't seen you since..." and "I've seen you, but haven't shaken your hand..."

When he walked by where I was sitting, I was touched when he recognised me. "Hey, I know you. You're the librarian at Stanford." What a relief. All is well with the world. Some things do still matter. I replied that I was and asked, "So, I guess you've started a dotcom?" Yep. A few weeks ago.

It was kind of exciting, I admit, watching these two dotcomers as they remained the centre of huddles that afternoon. They were most likely dispensing valuable VC-handling advice, what it takes, how long for first-round funding, how hard it is to find employees, B2B, ASP, P2P and whatnot. I wouldn't be surprised if a few more in the crowd succumbed to the bug that day.

I know, I know. You're probably thinking I'm envious. On the outside I am, looking in. Well, you're right on both counts. But I've been bitten now. The fever is fatal, as far as I can tell. Once it gets in your blood, you're a goner. And it takes its toll on everyone.

Late at night, in the Valley, jab bachha raat ko rota hai, Mom and Dad aren't negotiating about who will get up. Instead, you're more likely to hear, "You start a start-up. No, you start it, I did the last one." No longer asking for a bigger house or a new car, wives want to know why their husband hasn't started a dotcom yet. People in established hi-tech companies, that are even doing well, are dropping like flies. Remember when getting a job at one of the Silicon Valley's Big Ones was a good thing? So passé now, it is.

And some of us are wondering why we didn't run with the eBrick.com idea two years ago. Do you know how much red clay there is in southeastern USA? And we all know that if it's on the Internet, people will buy.

Yes, I'm still kicking myself about that lost opportunity.

But my co-founder-that-almost-was isn't.

I have a screening test for you. It will determine whether you're immune to this bug. Sit in your own living room while a pal, a bud, someone you've known since he was a kid (almost) tells you about the latest offer their company, er... sorry, start-up, has received. That it's in the $many-multimillion range, I can't tell you exactly how much, unwritten NDAs between friends are pretty binding. After gulping at the initial offer, see if you don't fall off your chair when you hear that they are holding out for, oh, maybe double that amount.

See if you don't catch the fever too then. Your life kind of flashes in front of you. Actually, his life does. Is this the same guy you ate at some fast-food place with just a year ago? The same one who wanted to stay in academia (as a student, if he could get away with it), the one who spent more time on newsgroups than his thesis? The guy who joked, "People will buy anything on the Net. We could sell bricks and they'd buy! eBrick.com"

Thankfully, some things haven't changed. These overnight millionaire-types just don't know how to spend their money. So, I suggested a sports car. He's single and that 1987 Honda won't draw attention, I said. No matter how nice his new clothes are. I listed a few more essentials. After all, I wouldn't want him to end up on a psychiatrist's couch one day, depressed because he had all this money and just didn't know why he was so unhappy. It's beginning to happen here, you know. From dotcom fever to depression. The "What Now...?" syndrome.

He had some advice for me too. After hours of showing my enthusiastic support for his new venture and life, I finally moaned that all I wanted was $1 million. Just one. That's when he reminded me half of that would go to taxes and what was left wouldn't even buy me a median-priced house around here. He's right.

Make that $10 million. All I want is $10 million.

See how easy it is? No cough, no sore throat, no dizziness, nothing to indicate that you've been stricken. Just like that. You no longer blink when you read that someone has bought 11 acres for $52 million (there's a house and stable on the property, okay?). You shrug when you hear a woman in the grocery store say, "Remember the Joneses? They just sold the house they bought in 1962 for $10 million. Didn't they pay something like $35K for it?" And you laugh when you see those contestants who say they want to be a millionaire. People, people, people... the sky's the limit around here and you're stopping at a million?

So now, I'm no longer shy about it. I've got dotcom fever, I watch CNETNews.com religiously and for god's sake, stop asking me "Are you read-dy?"

Yes, I am.

Lottery tickets won't do, though. Nor will waiting for some eligible multimillionaire. They don't have time for women anyway, I read. "Too busy to date? Let us find you a lunch partner!" the dating service ads offer. And a temp agency ad advises a back-up plan, suggesting that we mustn't count on marrying a millionaire.

No, thanks. I want to start my own dotcom. I want to do something that helps my fellow man (or woman). I want to develop tools that will increase productivity. I want to help the global economy. I want to contribute to society. I want bring people together. I want to make this world a better place.

I want my cottage on a beach in Goa and I want it now.

That's what it's all about, you know. It is about money. Forget passion, forget innovation and forget all that hype about technology for the new millennium. Yeah, right. That's what that guy in Seattle said it was about and now look what Judge Jackson's said to him. So, it's the money, okay? "That has to be the goal, Reeta. It's not about a personal mission. Keep your eye on the ball. Forget about having fun. Remember, you want to make money."

I can live with that.

So, I made up a dotcom-wannabe checklist to get this ball rolling.

Resident of the Silicon Valley? Check. Indian? You bet. IT? Well, the information part of it anyway. IIT? Uh, no. I prefer to walk on land, not water. Java? Only if it comes with milk and sugar. C++? Heck. I got straight-As most of the time. Hi-tech stock to live on in case funding doesn't come through? Are you kidding? Supportive spouse/in-laws/parents/friends to cook, clean, raise the kids and pay the bills while you write that biz plan and schmooze with VCs? Yeah, right. Cell phone? When hell freezes over.

Hmmm. I'm not gonna get that beach house in Goa any time soon, am I?

Oh well. I'm not going to worry about it. It's all in the timing. See, about a year after I moved to Houston, that place hit rock bottom. The oil slump and all, you know. Three months and counting...

Don't say I didn't warn you.

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