IAP – a UAP. That’s what you and your investors will be buying on Friday.’ He paused again. ‘And another thing. People say a company where the share structure gives one man a majority vote, even if he’s holding only ten per cent of the shares outstanding, holds a risk. I agree. And that is effectively the structure we’re talking about, let no one be in doubt. That’s why we’ve assembled a board with some of the world’s most exceptional business leaders to help steward the business. Even so, some people say it’s risky to buy into a company with a voting structure like that. Maybe. Normally I’d agree. But there are exceptions.’ He gestured to Andrei. ‘That’s the man with the vote. The man who gave us what we’re talking about today, who built it in eight short years out of a dorm in Stanford, who’s giving us the opportunity, with this IPO, to be part of one of the greatest examples of value creation that any of us have ever seen. It’s this man sitting right here that we have to thank for all this – Andrei Koss.’
There was silence for a moment, then applause broke out in the audience. At first Andrei didn’t even hear it. He was still watching Didier Broule, too absorbed in what he had said to be aware of anything else. People were on their feet, clapping, before he realized what was happening.
Didier motioned to him to stand up. Andrei stood, facing the applauding investors, not knowing what to do.
After the presentation, as they sat in the back of the car that was taking them to the private jet that would fly them to Shanghai, Andrei said to the banker that maybe he shouldn’t focus so much on licensing.
Didier laughed. ‘Andrei, that’s what the investors are buying. No one trusts network stocks any more, not after what you did to Homeplace. But this they get.’
Andrei hesitated. The truth was, Broule and his team from Mann Lever intimidated him somewhat. Since the day they had been appointed, they had swept in and taken over the IPO process – the planning, the execution, the communications. They exuded energy and certainty. Everyone on the Fishbowl side – Leib, Chris, Jenn – thought they were doing a superb job. And they were. Andrei felt as if he was on a pounding, thumping juggernaut and there was no way of stopping it, or even diverting it slightly from its chosen course. And not even Andrei was totally immune to the fever generated by the juggernaut, the excitement of the ride. No one was.
Broule grinned. ‘Andrei, trust me. I’m going to get you a market cap of one hundred and ninety billion dollars on Friday. That’s what it’s looking like. A hundred and ninety. The biggest IPO the world has ever seen.’
Andrei heard it all again, in Shanghai, in Palo Alto, then in New York City. The same speech from Didier Broule, the same words. The same applause from the investors, lapping it up.
And now the IPO was only two days away.
44
THE IPO OF Fishbowl Inc. took place on 21 July, seven years and eight months after Andrei Koss launched the second version of Fishbowll , which was destined to become one of the world’s great internet companies.
The offering was priced at $48 a share, valuing Fishbowl at $192 billion dollars. Andrei rang the bell by videolink to open the trading session of the NASDAQ, standing in front of the aquarium in the main Fishbowl atrium, flanked by Jenn McGrealy, Chris Hamer, Bob Leib and the two dozen most senior executives in the company. Ten minutes later, the stock price had gone through $50, putting the company at $200 billion. A cheer rang across the fifth floor of Fishbowl’s headquarters where a huge screen above the aquarium showed the stock price. The stock ended the day at $57.40 – almost a 20 per cent premium on the launch price. Andrei now held 44.7 per cent of a company valued at $228 billion dollars. Chris Hamer’s $1 million stake had been parlayed into $11 billion, while 182 paper millionaires were made that day in the offices on University Avenue, with many more employees owning shares and options in the hundreds of thousands, and every employee, even the most recent, having at least some stock. Jenn McGrealy was worth in excess of $9 billion; Ed Standish, the advertising executive who had sold the original advertising deal to Andrei and then joined