Middle-aged, Male, and Mildly Annoyed: Why I Stopped Going to Startup Events

If you’ve read this blog—ramblings, thought-leadership, or the digital equivalent of shouting into the void—you might be under the impression that I’m a grumpy old man. A professional curmudgeon. A pessimist with a newsletter.

Well, I’ve got news: I’m not old. I am, however, officially middle-aged. Even worse, I’m a white middle-aged man. The kind that owns several bikes, all of which are made of carbon or titanium (naturally—what am I, a savage riding aluminium?). I’m not bald (yet), but it’s probably only a matter of time.

Still, let’s move beyond my existential crises and turn to something more controversial: I’ve stopped going to most startup events.

Shocking, I know. But hear me out.

Yes, they can be fun. The name tags. The optimism. The endless coffee and recycled lanyards. Everyone’s "super excited" to connect and collaborate. But if you're there for actual business development—well, good luck.

Here’s the unfiltered truth: you mostly meet other consultants trying to sell you something, or very early-stage startups with lots of enthusiasm but very little cash. I respect them, deeply. Founding a company is heroic, like climbing Everest in flip-flops. But unfortunately, enthusiasm does not pay invoices. Nor, tragically, does equity.

Equity, you say? “We can’t pay now, but you’ll own 0.25% of our future unicorn!” Splendid. And yet, my local supermarket continues to rudely demand actual currency in exchange for groceries.

Success fees then? Skin in the game! Alignment! Except… have you ever actually tried collecting a success fee? It’s like chasing a mirage through a desert of unread emails and awkward follow-ups.

And then there’s the crowd. Particularly in healthcare, these events rarely attract the right people. Investors are scarce, and decision-makers are even rarer. If you're in digital health or devices, perhaps it's better—faster timelines, flashier decks. But in biotech and pharma? The return on time invested often resembles the yield of a preclinical molecule: theoretically promising, practically nonexistent.

So, what does our middle-aged man with too many bikes suggest?

Simple: I built something better.
I launched Capital for Cures. Yes, yes—yet another event, I hear you sigh. But stay with me. This isn’t just another conference with free pens and lukewarm coffee. It’s a space to meet actual investors, seasoned operators, people who know what they’re doing (and, crucially, have budget lines).

The next one’s on May 5th in Basel, and no, you don’t need to pitch me equity for entry. Reach out and I’ll send you a free ticket.

And if you want to skip the event entirely and just get in on the best part—networking without small talk—we have a fantastic WhatsApp group with nearly 400 people already. Join here:
👉 https://chat.whatsapp.com/Jz2rS5OAvmB7BeLRvN8IML

Remember: opportunity cost is real. Just like carbon fiber, your time is expensive, lightweight, and shouldn’t be wasted climbing the wrong hill. Choose wisely.