"Great minds discuss ideas; average minds discuss events; small minds discuss people." - Eleanor Roosevelt, former First Lady of the United States
You've seen the quote on tote bags and LinkedIn posts. Strip away the sentiment, and it's one of the most reliable predictors of long-term success I've encountered.
The most superficial people obsess over who knows whom. The most successful focus relentlessly on what matters: ideas that create value.
This reflects a deeper truth: attract, do not chase. Those who create genuine value attract opportunities. Those who rely on signaling spend their lives chasing validation that never quite arrives.
I've caught myself doing this too, mentioning which fund we co-invested with when what actually mattered was the founder's execution velocity. Just last quarter, I caught myself dropping "I was just discussing this with Dan at Maveron" before realizing the reference added zero value to our discussion. It's a reflex in our ecosystem. But recognizing it is the beginning of changing it.
It's also the clearest dividing line between entrepreneurs and wantrepreneurs1. The latter name-drop, seek status through association, and angle for credit in conversations where it adds no value. These habits aren't just annoying—they're diagnostic.
Across 40+ startups I've worked with over the past five years, this pattern shows up again and again: the founders who focus on ideas outperform those who focus on people and proximity to power.
Let's examine what this looks like in practice. There are four primary forms of status theater that plague our ecosystem:
Name-droppers
Credit-seekers
Crushers
Fly fishers
Each represents a different way of attempting to borrow rather than build credibility.
1. The Name-droppers
We've all seen it. The person who can't get through a meeting without "my friend at XYZ" or "when I had dinner with ABC." The colleague who inserts irrelevant connections into every conversation. The acquaintance who casually mentions they were just staying at Amangiri with someone "huge in venture"—despite the fact that it has nothing to do with the discussion.
This isn't harmless. It's credibility theater. A reflex rooted in insecurity, a way of padding thin insight with borrowed status.
The contrast becomes obvious when you start listening closely.
The status-seeking founder says:
"I was talking to the corp dev guy at Shopify about our checkout flow."
The idea-driven founder says:
"We've been testing our checkout flow with Shopify merchants for feedback."
Same topic. Same ecosystem. Completely different focus: one on proximity to power, the other on proximity to customers.
2. The Credit-seekers
Equally revealing are the conversational credit-seekers. You'll hear them say:
"I was actually the one who first suggested that approach…"
"That was originally my idea before the team expanded it…"
"Yeah, that was in my email from last week."
These aren't contributions. They're control grabs, engineered not to advance the conversation, but to re-center the speaker as the person who deserves credit. They hijack momentum and subtly poison team trust, especially when they show up in collaborative environments. And they signal a deeper misalignment: the person is more invested in being seen as insightful than in actually generating insight.
Credit-seeking is particularly toxic in teams because it prioritizes individual status over collective outcomes. While name-dropping borrows status from external connections, credit-seeking attempts to extract it from colleagues. Both reflect the same underlying insecurity.
3. The Crushers Epidemic
I call this cousin of name-dropping "crushinitis"—the compulsive need to say you're "crushing it" regardless of reality. It's born from the same impulse: appearing successful matters more than being successful.
You know the pattern:
The founder "crushing it" in investor meetings while burn exceeds revenue.
The startup "crushing it" on social while scrambling to hit MVP thresholds.
The team "crushing it" at conferences while quietly losing customers.
Just as name-dropping borrows credibility from others, "crushing it" borrows credibility from a fictional future. Both are forms of status theater rather than value creation.
This performative optimism creates a dangerous feedback loop. The more effort goes into maintaining the illusion of success, the less energy remains for confronting real problems.
And once "crushing it" becomes a company's internal narrative, honesty becomes politically risky. Problems get buried. Feedback gets reframed as "noise." The scoreboard gets ignored when it shows the wrong numbers.
By contrast, the strongest founders I've seen default to intellectual humility. They focus obsessively on what's not working—and how they're addressing it. They create cultures where surfacing problems is a feature, not a threat.
That's not performative modesty. It's an attention strategy. Every minute spent feeding the "crushing it" narrative is a minute not spent improving the product, understanding the customer, or solving hard problems. And like name-dropping, it ultimately signals insecurity rather than strength.
4. The Fly fishers
The fourth form of status theater is perhaps the most subtle: manufacturing closeness to others where it doesn't exist. It happens in two distinct ways.
The first is the forced connection attempt: "Do you know Jonathan? He was my roommate's cousin." This person is desperately trying to establish a shared social graph, not because it adds value to the conversation, but because they believe mutual connections validate their social standing.
Even more telling is when someone pretends to be closer to a person than they actually are. You've seen it: running into someone from Ben's office and asking, "Is Ben in town?" When they reply no, you say, "Oh, he must be on his annual fly fishing trip"—only to be told, "Actually, Ben's at a wedding." If you were truly as close as you implied, you'd have known this basic detail.
This false familiarity is particularly revealing because it can be instantly exposed when the bluff is called. Yet people continue to risk this exposure because the brief status hit from claiming proximity seems worth it.
Like the other three behaviors, this one betrays a deep insecurity—a belief that one's actual connections aren't impressive enough without embellishment or that one's natural social standing requires artificial enhancement. It reveals a person who values the appearance of relationships over their substance.
The Borrowed Credibility Trap: Why All Four Behaviors Fail
These four patterns—Name-droppers, Credit-seekers, Crushers, and Fly fishers—all reflect a fundamental misunderstanding of how value is created. They reveal the belief that importance can be borrowed—that proximity to success equals contribution.
When someone peppers their conversation with irrelevant status signals—who their child goes to school with, the exclusivity of their travel, the prominence of their connections—they're not adding value. They're trying to manufacture it.
This behavior isn't just unproductive. It's predictive of underperformance.
People who define themselves by who they know rather than what they build almost always fall short. Their focus on optics pulls energy away from execution, creating a downward spiral: the more they rely on borrowed credibility, the less equipped they become to generate their own.
Why Status-Seekers Fall Behind
This isn't just correlation—it's causation. Here's why the Name-droppers, Credit-seekers, Crushers, and Fly fishers consistently underperform:
Attention Misallocation Time spent signaling is time not spent solving. Every hour crafting the perfect humblebrag on LinkedIn is an hour not spent understanding your customer. Every conversation focused on who you know is mental bandwidth not dedicated to product improvement.
Pattern Blindness Those fixated on positioning often miss shifts in customer behavior or go-to-market friction. While tracking who's getting funded or speaking at conferences, they overlook the early signals that their own business model needs adjustment.
Feedback Rejection They dismiss hard truths if it threatens their narrative. When you've told everyone you're "crushing it," acknowledging a fundamental problem becomes politically impossible. The sunk cost in the success narrative prevents honest recalibration.
Execution Atrophy Borrowed credibility becomes a crutch. When the crutch is gone, there's no capability left. I've seen founders who could brilliantly articulate their "vision" alongside impressive-sounding connections, but couldn't execute basic operational functions when those connections failed to deliver.
Scoreboard Confusion Bad founders ignore their so-so metrics while name-dropping the six VCs they pitched last week. They get excited about a partner's "really positive feedback" while their churn rate doubles. They optimize for investor impressions rather than customer value, chasing the next round instead of building a sustainable business.
Meanwhile, high-performing founders keep their heads down and eyes on their scoreboard. They know their cash in the bank, their burn, their runway. They know what levers drive growth—and they pull them relentlessly. Gossip and optics have no place in their operating system.
This difference in focus isn't just philosophical—it creates measurably different outcomes.
The Idea Advantage
Idea-first leaders stand out through how they think, not who they know. They're magnetic precisely because they focus on substance.
When a SaaS founder with $10M ARR hears about a competitor's splashy fundraise, he redirects: "I'm more interested in our onboarding flow. We've identified three friction points impacting week-one retention." Then he presents solutions. Not gossip, not posturing—just solving real problems.
The best leaders don't talk about boards they sit on or people they met at Davos. They discuss systems thinking, feedback loops, and decision velocity. They ask questions about organizational design and operational leverage.
Ideas compound. Every insight connects to the next and attracts better collaborators. Every framework accelerates future decisions. This thinking becomes its own magnet, attracting capital, talent, and opportunity without chase. These leaders never needed to name-drop because they built something worth talking about.
The greatest irony? The less you focus on status, the more likely you are to achieve it.
The Data
We didn't want to just trust our instincts. So we measured.
I took meeting transcripts, emails, and company materials from 40+ early-stage startups in our portfolio and analyzed them using ChatGPT to quantify conversation patterns. The results were more dramatic than I expected.
Founders who spent more than 30% of their time discussing connections, status markers, or personalities showed significantly slower growth and missed key milestones at a rate 3.4x higher than those who maintained their focus on strategy, product, and customers. It wasn't even close.
The highest-performing companies—those exceeding their growth targets by 50% or more—shared a communication signature we could detect across nearly every interaction. Their founders were insanely focused on their customers and products, not competition and the fundraising circuit. It was a linguistic habit that predicted success with surprising accuracy.
One Series A company stands out in the data. Their leadership team spent 80% of their meeting time discussing product feedback, customer behavior, and actionable metrics. They exceeded their growth targets and raised a highly competitive Series B effortlessly.
A similar company in a different space—with comparable technology and initial funding—spent only 33% of their time on these topics. The rest? Endless updates about pitching "Sequoia, Benchmark, a16z, etc etc," celebrating when a VC said something positive2 despite missing plan, and obsessing over how to position the business for investors rather than fixing their product for customers. To be fair, they did have one quarter of seemingly promising traction that briefly looked like a turnaround. But when that growth stalled, they reverted to relationship-seeking rather than problem-solving. They missed most key milestones in their roadmap and failed to raise their Series A.
Beyond these specific cases, we observed a fundamental divergence in how teams approach existential challenges:
Struggling teams frame problems externally:
"Which investor or advisor could solve this for us?"
Thriving teams frame problems internally:
"What insight are we missing that's right in front of us?"
This contrast in questioning reveals a fundamental difference in mindset. One approach outsources the solution, assuming expertise exists elsewhere. The other internalizes the challenge, recognizing that deep understanding must precede effective action. Neither approach is always wrong - sometimes external expertise is exactly what's needed - but the default direction teams turn first tells us volumes about how they operate.
What makes this pattern so significant is how it ripples through an organization. Teams fixated on external validation consistently miss what's in their own data. They chase relationships while competitors build deeper customer understanding. They measure themselves by who's in their network rather than what their metrics reveal. And crucially, they talk about who they know instead of what they've learned.
Here's the actionable insight: the language patterns of your team reveal whether you're building on borrowed credibility or earned insight. This isn't just culture - it's strategy made visible through words.
Here's the breakthrough insight: unlike market conditions, competitive dynamics, or macroeconomic factors, this variable lives entirely within your control. You can transform your company's trajectory starting with your next sentence.
The Principles of Earned Credibility
If you recognize these patterns in yourself or your team, consider the underlying principles at work:
Attention is zero-sum. Every moment spent crafting the perfect name-drop is a moment not spent understanding your customer. The most successful founders treat attention as their scarcest resource.
Substance creates its own gravity. Instead of borrowing importance, develop expertise that generates its own pull. When you build genuine insight, you won't need to manufacture credibility.
Environments shape behavior. The people around you determine which behaviors get reinforced. Choose peers who challenge your thinking rather than applaud your connections.
Scorecards don't lie. Identify the 3-5 metrics that actually drive your business. When these are visible and central, status theater becomes obviously irrelevant.
One founder I worked with tested this approach rigorously. He banned discussion of competitors and industry gossip in all internal meetings for two months. The result? Product velocity increased materially, and their roadmap tightened. The team had more energy, more clarity, and better conversations.
Build, Don't Bullshit
When you default to proximity over principle, you signal how you believe value is created—through who you know, not what you build.
That belief isn't just wrong. It's dangerous. It leads to hollow founders, distracted teams, and fragile companies. It creates wantrepreneurs3—people who appear to be building something but are really just talking about building something.
Here's the uncomfortable truth: in a world that rewards execution, borrowed credibility isn't just a distraction—it's a red flag. Status signaling isn't neutral; it's negatively correlated with performance. When someone peppers their pitch with names instead of insights, they're not just wasting time—they're revealing a fundamental misalignment between how they think success happens and how it actually does.
The best builders know better. They invest their attention in ideas that scale. They build substance, not theater. They do not chase opportunity. They create it.
So the next time you feel the urge to mention who you met at dinner or which firm is "circling," remember that reflexive name-dropping impulse I confessed to earlier. Stop and ask yourself:
"Am I adding value—or borrowing it?"
The people who win don't signal. They ship.
Because here's the truth that no one wants to admit: The universe doesn't care who you know. The market doesn't care who you've met. Your customers don't care who invested. They care if your product solves their problem better than the alternatives. And ten years from now, no one will remember who you sat next to at dinner. But they might remember what you built.
So remember: great minds discuss ideas; average minds discuss events; small minds discuss people. The most successful founders I've seen move upward on this hierarchy, focusing on ideas that lead to actions that create outcomes. The struggling ones move downward, fixating on people and events that generate status but little else.
In the end, it's the ideas—transformed into action—that change the world, not the names we drop along the way.
wantrepreneur /ˈwän-trə-prə-ˌnər/ noun: someone who talks like a founder but doesn’t build—obsessed with status, allergic to execution. Learn more here.
Need to do an essay on raising capital, because VCs will always be positive and pass with the optionality to see the deal in the future.