By the end of the month, everything was moving at breakneck speed. The platform was live, and to my surprise—and maybe even a bit of my own disbelief—it was gaining traction fast. The team had done an incredible job setting everything up, and the marketing campaign Rachel spearheaded had brought in a wave of early users. Word spread quickly, and before long, we were attracting attention from investors—real, high-profile investors who were interested in funding the platform's next phase of growth.
It should have felt like a dream come true. This was what I had been working for—investors taking notice, money on the table, a growing user base. But the whole time, I felt strangely... disconnected, like I was watching everything happen from the sidelines. The company was mine in name, but it didn't feel like it. The decisions weren't mine anymore. The team, as talented as they were, had taken over, and every time I tried to assert myself, I got that same polite brush-off.
I tried to remind myself that it was all for the best—that the end result mattered more than my ego—but it was hard to shake the feeling that something was off. And nowhere was that more obvious than in our first big investor meeting.
We were gathered in the conference room of one of LA's biggest venture capital firms. The air was thick with the smell of leather and expensive cologne, and the room itself looked like something out of a luxury hotel. There were crystal glasses on the table, untouched bottles of sparkling water, and the soft hum of air conditioning that you barely noticed unless you were trying to distract yourself from something.
The investors—three of them, all dressed in sleek, tailored suits that screamed money—sat across from us, their faces unreadable. I had been introduced as the founder, the guy with the vision, the one who started it all. But from the moment the meeting started, it became clear that they didn't see me that way.
I stood at the front of the room, preparing to give my pitch. But before I could even start, one of the investors, Greg, a tall, silver-haired man with the kind of smug smile that made you want to punch him, raised his hand slightly.
"Before we dive into the presentation," Greg said, leaning back in his chair, "we've already been briefed by your team. We're aware of the traction you've gained and the numbers. We're really here to discuss the finer details."
I paused, caught off guard. The pitch I had prepared was already being sidelined. "Uh, sure," I said, glancing at the team seated beside me. "But I'd still like to give you a quick overview—just to make sure we're all on the same page."
Greg smiled, but it was the kind of smile you gave someone when you were humoring them. "Of course, of course. Go ahead."
I launched into my pitch, doing my best to explain the platform's key features and what made it unique. But as I spoke, I couldn't shake the feeling that the investors weren't really listening. They were nodding politely, but their eyes kept flicking over to Samantha and Marco, as if waiting for them to chime in.
By the time I wrapped up, Greg and the other investors were already turning their attention away from me, shifting in their seats as if the real conversation was about to begin.
"Thank you, Tristan," Greg said, offering me a brief handshake. His grip was firm, but his eyes were already on Samantha as he continued. "Now, let's talk specifics. Samantha, what are your projections for the next quarter? And how do you plan to scale?"
Samantha leaned forward, her expression calm and professional. "We're anticipating a 30% increase in user acquisition over the next three months, primarily due to our partnerships with key industry players. We've already secured several collaborations, and we're negotiating more as we speak."
The investors nodded, clearly more interested in what she had to say than anything I'd just pitched. As Samantha continued to outline the scaling strategy, I sat there, feeling like a ghost in the room. It was my company—my idea—but the investors weren't even looking at me anymore.
Next, Greg turned to Marco. "And Marco, in terms of tech infrastructure, are you confident that the platform can handle the projected growth?"
Marco nodded confidently. "Absolutely. We've built the platform to scale from the ground up. We're using the latest cloud infrastructure, and we've already stress-tested it for peak usage. There won't be any issues with scaling."
"Good, good," Greg said, his eyes flicking back to Samantha. "And what about your plans for expanding into other verticals?"
Samantha launched into another detailed explanation, and the investors hung on her every word. I glanced down at the table, gripping the edge of my chair tightly, trying to keep my frustration in check. They were treating me like a formality, like I was the kid who had come up with the idea, but the grown-ups were here to make it work.
I tried to jump in at one point, adding something about how we planned to keep the platform's core user experience simple and intuitive as we scaled. But Greg barely even acknowledged me, giving me a brief nod before turning back to Samantha to ask another question.
The other two investors, Karen and Paul, didn't even glance in my direction. It was as if I had disappeared from the conversation entirely.
***
The meeting dragged on, and by the end, I felt completely sidelined. The investors stood up to leave, shaking hands with Samantha, Marco, and Rachel, congratulating them on the platform's success and how well everything was going. When they shook my hand, it felt more like an afterthought—a brief, placating gesture before they turned their attention back to the team.
"We're very impressed," Greg said as we wrapped up. "You've built something solid here. We'll be in touch to discuss the next steps."
Samantha smiled, her tone professional and polished. "Thank you. We look forward to working with you."
I forced a smile, trying to ignore the pit forming in my stomach. The investors barely glanced at me as they left the room, their minds already on the next meeting, the next deal. As soon as they were gone, the team turned to me, all smiles and congratulations.
"That went really well!" Rachel said, clapping me on the shoulder. "They're definitely interested."
"Yeah," I muttered, trying to keep the bitterness out of my voice. "They're interested in you guys."
Samantha frowned, tilting her head slightly. "What do you mean? This is your company, Tristan. You're the founder. They're interested because of your vision."
I let out a short, humorless laugh. "Yeah? Then why didn't they even look at me during half the meeting? Every time I tried to say something, they brushed me off."
Marco shifted uncomfortably, glancing at Samantha for support. "It's not like that, Tristan. Investors tend to focus on the logistics, the practical side of things. That's why they were asking us those questions. It doesn't mean they don't respect you."
Samantha nodded in agreement. "Exactly. You're the visionary, the one who got this started. But the investors are more concerned with execution at this stage. That's why they're talking to us."
I sighed, rubbing a hand over my face. "I just feel like I'm being sidelined. Like I'm here, but I'm not really here, you know? This is supposed to be my company, but I feel like I'm losing control of it."
Samantha's expression softened, and she stepped forward, placing a hand on my shoulder. "Tristan, you're not losing control. You're leading the charge. The investors see that. They see your vision. But they also need to know that the right people are in place to execute it. That's why we're here—to make sure your vision becomes a reality."
I looked around the room at the team, all of them watching me with expressions of reassurance, but it did little to ease the frustration gnawing at me. They weren't wrong—the investors did care about execution, about logistics—but that didn't make it any easier to stomach. I had built this company from the ground up, and now it felt like I was just along for the ride.
"I know you're right," I said finally, my voice quieter. "I just... I want to feel like I'm still a part of this."
"You are," Samantha said, smiling warmly. "More than you realize."
I nodded, forcing myself to smile back. "Yeah. Thanks."
But as we packed up and left the meeting room, I couldn't shake the feeling that something had shifted. The investors had been impressed, sure, but they weren't impressed with me. And the more I thought about it, the more I started to wonder if this company was still mine at all.
Q: Have you ever been sidelined in your own project before?