Reopening is a mess. Photographs of crowds jostling outside bars, patrons returning to casinos, and a tightly packed, largely maskless audience listening to President Donald Trump’s speech at Mount Rushmore all show the U.S. careening back to pre-coronavirus norms. Meanwhile, those of us watching at home are like the audience of a horror movie, yelling “Get out of there!” at our screens. As despair rises, the temptation to shame people who fail at social distancing becomes difficult to resist.

Today we’re seeing that a moat—a barrier that protects a company from low-cost competitors or new, disruptive technology—isn’t enough to build a lasting business.

A moat simply buys a company time to figure out the next great business. Just like the invention of field artillery in the 16th century rendered moats obsolete, technology today is grinding down barriers to competition.
Technology makes the moat of traditional business a mere jumping off point. For tech companies, it’s always about what’s next — not simply protecting what’s here today.
For Buffett, operating as the low-cost producer in a crowded market helps a company build a moat around price. For tech companies, low prices trend towards free as a means to kickstart adoption.

Starting a company is difficult. Raising capital is a necessary step for many startups. It can be a frustrating process for first-timers. In this guide, you will learn more about the process and what a successful seed raise looks like.
Takeaways from these findings
Raising seed funding will take longer than you think. Don’t start to despair until you’ve been at it for a few months.
First reach out to seed firms before you go to angels. Firms will give you more capital in less time with fewer meetings.
More Meetings does not mean more capital. Focus on getting quality introductions to investors who are likely to be a fit. Quality first.
You will likely need 30–40 investors connections. You will likely need to reach out to many in order to secure interest and move into deeper discussions.

As a child, I fell into a bad habit. Or rather, a series of them.

I washed my hands, then washed them again. I turned on the lights, then off, then on. I walked into a room, backed out of it, walked in again. Sometimes, I would find myself stuck in one of these loops for hours at a time. I would stand at the threshold of my bedroom, turning the lights on and off, hoping no one would discover what I was doing.

Sixteen. On, off. Seventeen. On, off. Eighteen.

When the number did not feel right, when the repetition did not give my mind the sense of reassurance it was seeking, I could only continue.

Nineteen. On, off. Twenty.