I sent this email to the whole team at YC yesterday:
When I joined YC 7.5 years ago, there weren’t many people around. PG and Jessica were still running things. We had offices in Mountain View, Palo Alto, and on Kearny street, but they were nearly always empty. The only meeting on any calendar was the lunch on Thursdays where we’d talk about companies over takeout or at a table in a crowded restaurant.
The ways in which we’ve changed since then have been amazing to see. YC has grown in every way imaginable. The scope of what YC funds is larger. The team is bigger and more capable. The number of companies is pushing towards some ever receding upper bound. There’s more software, a larger community, and more programming designed to help YC founders build better futures.
I feel a deep sense of pride and honor at the part that I’ve played in that change and growth. I recall the first conversation I had with Aaron King about the Series A for Snapdocs. The questions he and I worked through were the kernel of the Series A program. I am amazed to see the directions in which Janelle is now building YCA. I’m grateful for the part I played in our conversations about growing beyond seed investing - conversations which eventually took shape as YCC. And, of course, there are fifteen batches worth of applications, interviews, dinners, office hours, and demo days rattling around in my head.
I’ve been thinking, recently, about the founders with whom I’ve had a chance to work. I’ve lost count of the number of incredible people I’ve gotten to know over these last years. Thinking back, it’s easy to see how the sheer weight of numbers can drive a person to be jaded about the problems that founders face. But the other night, as I spoke with a founder about a tough situation, I was reminded about how important it is to that individual that she gets the best possible advice. This is a lesson I learned time and again, and is something I hope I’ll never forget.
And then there’s the funny stuff. There were stolen air conditioners, barefoot pitches, robots that did not make sandwiches, update emails pulled from the I Ching, bandages, inhaled jet fuel, and literal blood on the interview floors. These are the things that I’ll remember long after everything else.
The truth is, I only meant to stick around YC for two years. Somehow, that two became two more, and then some more. As meaningfully as I’ve enjoyed my work here, it’s time for me to move onto something different and new and outside the bounds of what YC does. That’s a strange, exhilarating moment, and an important one for me and for my family. The pandemic provided the practical and existential nudge I needed to see the depth of this need.
To my fellow partners - thank you for your tireless work for our founders and for YC. Thank you for everything you’ve taught me, for all the strange conversations we’ve had, and for all the demo day presentations we’ve crafted.
To PG and Jessica and Trevor and RTM - thank you for giving me this opportunity and for making YC the kind of place I could love enough to stay long after I meant to leave.
To Janelle - thank you for building YCA with me and for being the best person I could imagine to take it into the future.
To everyone else - YC’s mission in the world is abstract. It could mean so many things, but it wouldn’t be anything without your work. Whether you are managing founder expectations about housing in the Bay Area, helping someone understand the mysteries of cap tables, talking someone down off the ledge of yelling at a reporter, or making sure that there will one day be an office to come back to, you are what makes YC a viable, vital force in the world.
I’ve never liked goodbye.