
Every time you meet someone from a fund, run this in your head:
“Can this person actually say yes, or are they just professionally allowed to say maybe?”
If they can’t:
you are not fundraising. You are doing pro bono venture education.
Most of the industry runs on this subtle scam: impressive titles and expensive coffee hiding the fact that maybe three people in the entire firm can actually decide your fate. Everyone else is paid to collect decks, opinions, and calendar events.
At most funds, real power lives in a very small, very busy, very over‑calendared circle.
These are the bosses. They:
If none of these people know who you are, your “process” is fan fiction. You’re in a simulation run by people whose biggest risk is sending one more internal email.
“Partner” is where the industry’s bullshit artistry really shines.
Two flavors:
If they can’t explain, in plain English, how they get a deal from “I like this” to “we wired,” they’re not running the process. They’re a glorified sales rep with a nicer title.
These are your potential champions—but not your deciders.
Think “partner-in-training with a higher pain tolerance.”
They:
They cannot, however, unilaterally commit capital. They need a partner/GP to stick their neck out.
Treat them like your internal lawyer arguing your case to a distracted judge. Your job is to make their life so easy they’d rather fight for you than push yet another “nice but not sure” deal.
These are the TSA agents of venture:
They will say things like “We’re really excited” and “We want to dig in.” Translate that into: “I want to keep this alive long enough to look smart internally.”
Your job: give them a 60‑second version of your story that a partner can understand while half‑reading email and slacking someone about golf.
Brilliant, ambitious, and at the bottom of the power pyramid.
They:
They have zero say in whether the fund invests.
Be decent. Answer their questions. But don’t architect your fundraising strategy around someone whose next career move is “leaving for business school as soon as my GMAT score looks tolerable.”
These people can be incredibly valuable. But they are not the ones who pull the trigger.
Half in, half out. Like a part‑time Jedi on a consulting retainer.
Sometimes they can lead a deal; sometimes they’re just a super‑scout with fancy stationery. If they say, “I love this,” your immediate follow‑up is:
“Great. Which GP or full‑time partner would need to be excited for this to move forward, and when can we get them involved?”
If the answer is “Let me socialize it internally,” congratulations—you’re now a TED Talk, not a term sheet candidate.
These folks make life better after the money is in:
They are not, in most cases, voting members of the investment committee. If you’re three calls deep with a platform person and still haven’t met an investing partner, you’re not “in a process.” You’re doing free consulting.
These are:
Treat them as:
Do not confuse their interest with institutional interest. If an EIR is the only one chasing you, you’re not talking to a fund—you’re talking to one smart individual who happens to have a nice desk.
You’re in a genuine fundraising process when:
You’re in edutainment mode when:
In that situation, you say:
If they can’t answer that, stop giving them masterclasses for free.
You don’t have to be hostile; you do have to be direct. Early in the dance, ask:
You’re not questioning their importance. You’re mapping the real org chart, not the LinkedIn one.
If someone gets cagey about explaining how decisions get made, that’s your answer: chaos, politics, or both. Plan your time accordingly.
For every contact at every fund, label them:
You need at least:
A crowd of Tourists plus some “We’re still learning the space” chatter is not traction. It’s a time sink wrapped in compliments.
You can’t fix the power imbalance in venture. But you can refuse to play it on hard mode. The moment you stop treating every “Venture Something” as a kingmaker - and start ruthlessly optimizing for people who can actually say yes - your fundraise gets shorter, sharper, and a hell of a lot less humiliating.