Top traits of startup founders, according to tech’s most unlikely venture capitalist

In 1992, I was homeless in Silicon Valley.

Well, not exactly homeless. I was working in a yogurt shop and had somehow convinced the owner of the shop to let me sleep, rent-free, in the attic above the store. Once, when I was letting myself in late at night, the police stopped me. They thought I was trying to rob the place.

I couldn’t blame them. I probably would have stopped me, too. But I was surviving.

A few months earlier, I had left my native Iran and landed in the United States with $700. I couldn’t speak English, and knew a handful of people in California. But I knew America stood for opportunity, and I was ready to seize it.

I was also in love. In Tehran, I had fallen hard for a girl I grew up with. I spent the little money I had making phone calls halfway around the world. I soon ran out of money.

In Tehran, I had been a well-respected sports journalist — hosting the most popular sports radio show in Iran. But that didn’t carry any weight in America. I got a job at a car wash in San Jose and took English classes at a local community college. I went from the car wash to the yogurt shop.

Then one day, watching TV in my attic above the shop, I saw an ad for the Medallion Rug Gallery in Palo Alto. They were hiring salespeople.

Immediately, I picked up the phone. “Have you ever sold rugs?” the owner asked. No. “Have you ever sold furniture?” No. “Have you ever sold anything?” No. “Then what are you calling me for?”

Before he had a chance to hang up, I pleaded with him to give me a chance. “How can you say no to someone you haven’t even met?” I asked. There was a long pause. “Fine, come in,” he said. The next day, I went to see him. I got the job. And by the end of the week, I had moved out of the attic.

It was the beginning of my new life.

The rug shop

The first thing I learnt as the newest employee at Medallion Rug Gallery was that Persian rugs are really expensive — tens of thousands of dollars apiece.

The second thing I learned was that most customers have no way of knowing whether they’re being taken advantage of or not. They can’t tell how a rug is made, or where it comes from. They have no idea what a fair price is, and they have no way of finding out. That’s why selling high-end rugs requires trust. It requires a strong relationship.

And over the next few years, that’s exactly what I set out to build. I became friends with my customers. I went to their homes. I spent time with their families. I got to know them. And I closed sales. A lot of sales: $8 million worth of rugs in my best year.

I was witnessing an amazing community, destined to change the world and I wanted to be part of it. And so, in addition to showing my customers rugs, I started asking questions.

Little by little, I learned about the world around me — the companies, the technology, the incredible growth. And then one day, I walked into my boss’s office, the owner of the rug store, and told him, “We need to start a tech venture fund.”

The tech venture adventure

Starting out on my own

Traits the best founders had in common

Lessons from the attic