Sanjay Singhal - Zero To Tesla: Confessions From My Entrepreneurial Journey

ZERO TO TESLA

Confessions from My Entrepreneurial Journey

An autobiography in progress by

Sanjay Singhal

To my parents, who taught me I could do anything, and to Ed Scott, who gave me a chance to prove it.

This book contains my entrepreneurial memoirs, and its filled to overflowing with heart-warming stories of failed relationships, bad judgment, and running from the law. The stories are all based on true events, and my intention is to chronicle twenty years of learning from my corporate, entrepreneurial, and investment careers. There is a common misconception that a book like this is supposed to help you avoid making the mistakes I made, but that is impossible. You can only truly learn by making your own mistakes, but maybe this book can be the company to your misery and make you feel a little less bad when you mess up.

Now, Ive been a bit of a dick or a bit of a patsy, or some combination of the two, for much of my life, and so on a number of occasions Ive changed the details of real eventssometimes to avoid excruciating embarrassment, sometimes to make the story slightly more readable, and sometimes to protect those who can still mount reprisals against me. The lessons, however, remain true. To protect privacy, I have changed some of the names in the stories, indicated by an asterisk (*) when first introduced.

I never planned to write a book, so I didnt take meticulous notes when interesting things happened to me. As a result, Im sure to have gotten a few things wrong when reconstructing conversations or events. I didnt do this on purpose, so if you recognize yourself in these pages, and Ive done you a disservice, e-mail me. But really, Id prefer it if you just smiled and thought to yourself, Hes still a dick.

Hello, Mr. Singhal, please have a seat. I understand this is the first time youve declared bankruptcy?

I didnt realize people went bankrupt multiple times. Yes, this is my first time.

The guy at the front of the room, Frank, was in his forties and humorless. I thought he was probably a reformed multiple-bankrupt himself. He said, Please review this form, and check off all the types of debt and associated amounts that put you in bankruptcy. I looked at the form, and in an attempt to shock Frank I included my US debts. It was a total of $500,000 spread across credit cards, cell phones, suppliers, consultants, support payments, and investors.

Frank looked at the completed form and began the heart of the session. It appears that youve had a problem controlling your purchases.

Duh, yeah, I thought.

He added, Its important to realize that making only minimum payments on credit cards substantially increases your debt load.

I knew that. Thats why I always paid off my credit cards in fulluntil I stopped paying them altogether.

He then began in a pedantic tone, Mr. Singhal, you dont seem to understand. Its important to match your expenses to your income. Clearly you are spending more than youre making, and we have to work together to reduce your expenses. For example, how much is your monthly phone bill?

I suddenly realized that Frank had no clue what had happened to me. I hadnt gradually gone bankrupt by having a high mortgage payment and spending too much on ice cream sandwiches and DVDs. I had five-hundred-fricking-thousand dollars in debt. How was reducing my phone bill going to help? I said, Um, Frank. I think my situation is different

Now, now, Mr. Singhal, everybody who has declared bankruptcy feels that their situation is different and that theyve been wronged. Trust me, everyone needs to learn the same lesson, and Im here to teach it.

Growing up, my parents called me Happy because I was a pretty happy baby. It was a common enough practice among Indians. My family friends all had nicknames like Bubbly, Lucky, Pretty, and Babywed have done great at a Disney casting call. The problem was my last name, Singhal. Put them together, and by fifth grade the kids had both a precocious comment on society and a horrible taunt, Happy single, sad married, happy single, sad married The first time I heard it, I ran home crying, but instead of understanding, my parents laughed just as hard as the kids at school had.

I think what they were trying to tell me was, Dont take yourself so seriously.

By high school I was introducing myself as Sanjay. I joined debate because my homeroom teacher, Mrs. Somerville, was the coach. I wasnt particularly good, but after one event in another city they were handing out awards for various categories, including best rookie. My teammate Cal, sitting beside, me said, Youre going to get the rookie award for sure. I was elated at the comment; I hadnt thought it was even a possibility, and now I was the odds-on favorite!

As it happened, Cal was a rookie as well, and two minutes later he was collecting his trophy on stage. He had somehow reverse jinxed himself, screwing me in the process. Bastard. When I told my father about the experience, he said, Son, lower your expectations so you wont be quite so disappointed.

Lowering my expectations didnt stop me from trying to do well, though, and in eleventh grade I qualified for my high schools Reach for the Top team. Reach was a high school quiz show televised nationally on CBC, and my team eventually won the provincial championship, going to the nationals in Winnipeg that spring. I was surrounded by well-wishers saying, Youre going to be on national TV! Youre so smart! Not quite quarterback of the football team, but not bad for a geek with nomenclature issues.

I appeared on TV, and all my admirers got to watch as Bob Guest, the host, asked, For two hundred points and the lead, what hero rode a horse named Silver and wore a trademark mask?

I rarely had an opportunity to be the first to hit the buzzer, but this time I slammed my fist down, heard the rewarding BZZZ, leaped to my feet, and yelled, TONTO!

The correct answer, of course, was The Lone Ranger. I was mortified.

When I returned home, instead of villagers with pitchforks at the airport, the same well-wishers were clapping me on the back, enthusiasm unabated. More than one friend commented on my gaff, saying, It doesnt matter if you make a fool of yourself on national TV. Youre on national TV!

My mother always wanted me to be a doctor. Technically, she said, Doctor, lawyer, engineer, the mantra of all immigrant parents. But I knew that the only people who ever said that were lawyers and engineers.

Unfortunately for my parents ambitions, in 1978 my father bought a TRS-80 personal computer for his office. I immediately commandeered it as a personal toy and learning environment, and I became fascinated with its ability to create something out of nothing. Besides, it was an upgrade from my Atari 2600 as a gaming system.

The day I was supposed to register for the local university, I was on a golf course when a vice principal from my high school saw me on the second green and yelled through his car window. Hey, why arent you at the university? I had completely forgotten that it was time to continue my education. Running to the parking lot, I started to consider what program I would enroll in. I had received a tuition scholarship that summer, and my parents were lobbying for a sciences degree (i.e., premed).

When, a few weeks earlier, my father had asked me what I planned to do, Id said, I cant do sciences, Dad. What if I dont get into med school? That degree is useless. It wasnt a well-thought-out statementmy father had a PhD in molecular physics. Grimacing, he called my mother over, and she started in on me.

Son of mine, youre so smart, you can be anything. Youll have no trouble getting into medical school. And for the rest of your life, youll be called doctor. Look at your father; he gets so much respect because he has a doctorate in physics. Youll be set for life financially. I was dubious. Medicine didnt seem like fun, and I really didnt want to spend ten years getting a PhD.