The Social Code
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This book is dedicated to:
Ron Conway, John Doerr, Heidi Roizen, Roger McNamee, Guy Kawasaki, Mary Meeker, Jack Dorsey, Tina Seelig, Tim Draper, Michael Dearing, Bill Gurley, and Brendan Fitzgerald Wallace.
Thanks to all for being an inspiration. And, thanks especially for having a combined four million Twitter followers. #SocialCode @DigitalSadie
Acknowledgments
Writers write because they know something about words, but in this case there aren’t enough to properly thank Dan Kessler and Panio Gianopoulos for their vision and their trust: Santa Monica brainstorms will be memories I forever cherish, and ones I imagine I’ll one day categorize as pivotal. Thank you to Carey Albertine for her support, her energy, and her endless supply of practical wisdom. The admiration I feel for you three and the charge you’re leading is beyond measure. And of course, a special thanks to Jennifer Weis and the St. Martin’s Press team, and to our evangelist Susie Finesman for bringing it all together.
Contents
Title Page
Copyright Notice
Dedication
Acknowledgments
Prologue
Part One
1. The Prisoner’s Dilemma, v. 2.0
2. The Stanford Freshman Roommate Policy in Action
3. Macallan, Champagne, and Two Maraschino Cherries
4. The Nerd Lab Bender
5. Information Gathering
6. The Rules of the Game
7. The Secret Sauce
8. Sunny Afternoons in Atherton
9. Poached Salmon with a Hint of Blackmail
10. Deuce
11. Family Decisions
12. The Art of the Deal
13. Lady and the Tramp
14. Blank Check
15. Part of Something Real
16. Homeless
17. A White Comforter on a Four-poster Bed
18. For the Greater Good
19. A Late-night Snack
20: The Dorii
Part Two
21. The Secrets We Keep
22. Faces
23. Burberry Plaid and Something Fruity
24. Good Neighbors
25. The Losing Streak
26. Can You Hear Me Now?
27. Songs to Fill the Air
28. Mergers and Acquisitions
29. Tea for Two
30. PowerPoint and Shoot
31. Deal or No Deal
32. Dos Cervezas, Por Favor
33. Lights! Camera! Action!
34. The Puzzle
35. Skintight
36. The Negotiator
37. Cat’s Cradle
38. Two Thousand Lines of Code and Nothing to Wear
39. Meet me at ZOSTRA
40. The Inner Room
41. No Simple Highway
Part Three
42. Bookmarks
43. Liftoff
44. Hawaii 2.0
45. Get to Know Me
46. Is This Seat Taken?
47. Dinner Table Confessionals
48. Waterfalls
49. You Can’t Stay on Top Forever
50. Some Things Champagne Can’t Fix
51. Prove Yourself
52. Look, But Don’t Touch
53. Footprints
54. Yours, Virtually
55. Tell Me Your Secrets, I’ll Tell You Mine
56. Panic
57. Prepping and Primping
58. You Can’t Win All the Time
59. Or Can You?
60. Here She Comes
61. Competitive Advantage
62. Speech!
Epilogue
About the Author
Copyright
Prologue
The last thing Adam and Amelia Dory expected was to become the richest family in the world. Having come from nothing, the eighteen-year-old twins were happy just to have a chance to escape the legacy of foster homes and small-town drift. Now here they were, attending Stanford University on scholarships, with bright, happy futures ahead of them.
It was the kind of thing you heard at graduation ceremonies, all heartfelt and misty-eyed, while a marching band played “Pomp and Circumstance.” What you didn’t hear about, though, were all the details that came with it: the envy, betrayal, theft, broken laws, backstabbing, misdirection, and seduction. This was Silicon Valley, a place where unbelievable fortunes were made—money that put Wall Street and Hollywood to shame—and for every twenty-two-year-old billionaire parking his Porsche in front of his mansion, there were hundreds of people scheming how to take it away from him.
Starting out back then, Adam and Amelia knew none of this. If you were to ask them, years later, if they still would have gone through with it, you might have gotten a surprising answer. That is, if you could find them.…
Part I
1
The Prisoner’s Dilemma, v. 2.0
If Amelia Dory had come to class, none of this would have happened.
But instead, Amelia had spent the night at the Gates computer lab writing code, noticing that it was morning only when the sun began to rise. By the time her twin brother Adam’s alarm went off at 9:38 A.M. (the exact optimal time to brush-teeth-grab-bagel-and-make-it-to-class), he had a text message from her time-stamped 7:14 A.M. saying that she was skipping PoliSci to sleep after another “accidental all-nighter.” After first feeling frustrated, Adam turned his sister’s absence into a positive: Rather than sitting in the front row with Amelia to make sure she paid attention, Adam entered the lecture hall and took a seat in the back row, where he could check out the girls in the class.
If Amelia had come to class, Adam wouldn’t have sat in the back row; he wouldn’t have been noticed by the professor or embarrassed by those girls; he wouldn’t have replied to that text message; he wouldn’t have gone to that party; he and Amelia wouldn’t have gotten into trouble; they wouldn’t have started the company; and the company wouldn’t have made them household names, because the company never would have been.
But, as it was, Amelia didn’t come to class.
Political Science wasn’t hard for Adam. He’d never been out of the country, so the international part was a little hard to grasp, but the idea that everyone wanted more power and that this often caused conflict was particularly familiar.
A cute brunette in a short plaid skirt took a seat in front of Adam. He’d never seen her before, but she was just right in that hot-but-not-too-hot-to-talk-to-him kind of way. He took a deep breath and was leaning forward to say something when she stood up and waved to … Patty Hawkins. Fuck. Abort mission.
Patty Hawkins was Amelia’s wealthy and preppy roommate. Adam wasn’t sure if Patty knew who he was, but he was certain that any girl who was saving her a seat in class was not the kind of girl who would give him a moment’s notice.
Professor Marsh, a legendary professor who was rumored to have once been a CIA spy, cleared his throat to begin the lecture. Adam slouched in his seat and settled in, peering at the cute brunette in front of him. Reading her g-chat conversation over her shoulder, he learned that last night at the Sigma Chi Derby Party the girl cheated on her boyfriend, Rob, with his best friend, Mitch. Of course, Adam didn’t know any of those people.
“Mr. Dory? Mr. Dory!”
Adam looked up. One hundred pairs of his fellow students’ eyes darted between him and a very angry political science professor. Why would Mitch do that to Rob? How could
Rob not see them leave the party together? Was he cheating on her, too? While Adam’s head was swimming with strangers’ gossip, Professor Marsh continued to glare.
“Mr. Dory, I’m glad you could join us this morning. As you seem to be so riveted by today’s discussion, I was wondering if you might help me out. I described the Cold War’s arms race as the classic prisoner’s dilemma. Do you mind explaining the concept of the prisoner’s dilemma to the class?”
Adam swallowed nervously. “Well, I…”
“Yes?”
He took a deep breath. “The prisoner’s dilemma … has to do with trust and cooperation. Let’s say you have a boyfriend and girlfriend named … Ralph and Bridget. They love each other, but one night at a frat party Bridget hooks up with Ralph’s best friend, Mike.”
“A frat party?” Professor Marsh raised an eyebrow.
“Sure,” Adam replied nervously. “Like the Sigma Chi Derby Party.” The class broke out into laughter and some even applauded. Adam felt encouraged. “So, Bridget cheats on her boyfriend, Ralph, with his best friend, Mike. The next day, they are both scared out of their minds of getting caught. Before they have a chance to talk to each other, they each run into Ralph. Bridget doesn’t know if Mike told Ralph, and Mike doesn’t know if Bridget told Ralph. If Mike told Ralph what happened, it’ll make Bridget look like a slut. But if Bridget told Ralph, then it will make Mike look like a bad friend. Of course, if they both keep their mouths shut, then neither of them looks bad … but they can’t trust the other one not to tell.”
Professor Marsh smiled. “And why can’t they trust each other?”
“Because they’re both cheaters. They know what the other person is capable of. That’s the point of the hookup—I mean the prisoner’s dilemma. Even though the two should cooperate to win, they can’t trust each other, so they both get caught.”
One hundred pairs of eyes turned anxiously to Professor Marsh, who paused before saying anything. An imposing old man with broad shoulders and a shock of white hair, his calm willingness to humiliate students made him one of the more infamous professors at Stanford. Everyone expected Adam Dory to get torn apart in front of the class, but Professor Marsh only nodded. “That’s correct, Mr. Dory. A very … titillating example, but a very good one.”
Professor Marsh held up his hand and stared at Adam for a moment before continuing. “Additionally, for your extraordinary disrespect earlier, I’d like three hundred words on what you’d rather be doing with your life than sitting in my political science class.”
“Ooooohhhhh … burned!” a lone voice belted from the corner of the lecture hall. Everyone laughed.
Adam’s satisfaction quickly gave way to embarrassment. The cute brunette turned around and shot Adam an I’m-going-to-kill-you look; he avoided eye contact with her by pulling out his iPhone, only to be greeted by an urgent text message.
“Call me ASAP. Need u to bartend party tonight in Atherton. Call me within 5 minutes or someone else gets the gig. Sheryl.”
Saved by the bell, class ended and Adam bolted out of the lecture hall to avoid the brunette and call Sheryl back. Just as the phone started ringing he felt a hand grab his arm.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” Patty said. “You like reading over other people’s shoulders?”
Adam froze, hoping that by not moving he would turn invisible. At the same moment, a woman’s voice answered on the phone: “Hello?”
“Patty, I didn’t mean to…” Adam stammered, not quite sure how to defend himself. He looked at his phone and held a finger to signal to Patty that he needed a minute. “Hello? This is Adam Dory. I’m calling back about the bartending gig?”
This only infuriated Patty more, and she ripped the phone from Adam’s hand, slamming her manicured finger onto the screen to end the call. Adam glanced around, looking for an escape route. “Hey, that was a really important—”
“Listen,” Patty interrupted. “I get that you’ve probably never hooked up with a girl and are seriously uncool, but what kind of game are you trying to pull? Do you think by spying on a girl’s g-chat conversations you’ll somehow figure out a way to get with her?” Patty was fuming.
“I was trying to…” Adam wanted to die. And he wanted to call Sheryl back about the party tonight before someone else got the slot.
“You should know your place, Adam Dory. My friends—Rebecca included—are way out of your league.”
Adam had no idea who Rebecca was, but he knew that Patty was right. Stanford had students who were legitimate big deals. Of the seven hundred female faces in his freshman class, it was impossible to figure out which ones had cured disease, participated in the Olympics, or had fathers who ruled their respective countries. But they were around, and knowing they were his new peers made Adam feel at once important and very, very small.
“Ugh, you’re such a lost cause. Such a geek. No wonder you don’t have any friends.” Patty tossed Adam his phone and headed back inside to console her friend. Adam took a deep breath as he noticed Patty rejoining a crying Rebecca: All things considered, that could have been worse.
Desperate to get back to Sheryl before it was too late, Adam hurried outside and sat his bag under a palm tree as he called Sheryl again.
“Hello?”
“Hi, this is Adam Dory again. I’m so sorry about that. Is the spot still open?”
“Yes, I still need someone. The guy that was supposed to be here got food poisoning and Brett from Bartend-U said you were good.”
Adam felt his cheeks blush at the compliment from Brett, the trainer in the bartending class he’d taken to earn extra cash. “That’s great. I had plans tonight, but I think I can move them around.” By “plans” he meant dinner with Amelia at the dining hall, but he wanted Sheryl to think he was important.
“Okay, great. But listen: This is a very important client; we’ve got 376 guests coming. I can pay you double your usual, and tips should be good, but you’ve got to be in top shape.”
“Yeah, sure thing,” Adam said, doing his best to play it cool. “Where do I go?”
“I’ll e-mail you the address. Park at the elementary school down the street.”
“I don’t have a car.”
She paused. “Then how do you intend to get there?”
“I’ll ride my bike.” Adam felt his image being ruined.
“Fine. Just be here by five. And make sure no one sees you biking.”
“Will do, Sheryl. See you at five.”
So much for tonight’s homework, Adam thought. He sent Amelia a text: “Gotta cancel dinner 2night—just got gig in Atherton. They’re paying double! Will steal fancy dessert for you. ”
2
The Stanford Freshman Roommate Policy in Action
Across campus, Amelia Dory was sound asleep at the desk in her dorm room when her roommate, Patty, entered, loudly chattering on her cell phone.
“Oh my God, did you see her? She was so drunk and throwing herself all over Darren Landry. And I’m sorry, but that skirt was totally not the right size. I mean, if you’re going to gain your freshman fifteen, at least try to hide it. So embarrassing. I am so, so glad we decided to go DG. Can you imagine if we’d had to pledge with her? Anyway, are you going to the SAE party tonight? I’ve got a family friend’s graduation party but definitely want to stop by after. No, it should be fun. It’s for T.J. Bristol. Yeah, I know. He’s super hot. I think of him like a brother but could def set you up. I know graduation is in three weeks. I guess his dad’s going to be out of town for it so they’re throwing him a party early. Anyway, just a lot of Atherton families, but it will be a fun pre-party to SAE. Fab! See you tonight, love! Kisses!
“Oh my God, were you asleep?” Patty turned to see Amelia for the first time. “Oh my God, Ameel, I am so, so sorry!”
Patty Hawkins was tall and fit. She’d been a swimmer most of her life but quit her senior year of high school; she told her parents it was because she didn’t want the pressure of being a college athlete,
but really she’d read an article about how excessive exposure to chlorine could irreversibly destroy a woman’s hair follicles. Still, she had broad shoulders and, though slim, commanded a lot of space. Her blond hair fell to the middle of her back and her tanned face was always made up with mascara and pink lip gloss.
“No, no, I needed to get up,” Amelia answered groggily, trying to piece together when she’d fallen asleep last night. She looked down to see that she was still in her clothes from the day before and hazily remembered that she’d left Gates computer lab well after dawn to go to bed, but had an idea about how to fix her program on the way home and rushed to her laptop, evidently falling asleep here before she made it into her pj’s. “What time is it anyway?”
“Is this what happens when I don’t come home at night? I swear to God, Amelia, if it weren’t for me you’d do nothing but code and sleep at your desk!” Patty teased, with a twinge of judgment.
Amelia was her roommate’s antithesis. Together, they were an impeccable example of Stanford University’s policy of pairing freshman roommates of different backgrounds. Where Patty’s parents were trustees of the university, Amelia and her twin brother, Adam, were college kids on scholarships. While they both often stayed out all night, Patty was passed out at frat parties, while Amelia lost track of time in the computer science lab. Where Patty obsessively worked out at the campus gym to burn off her vodka-cranberry-lemonade cocktails, Amelia’s exercise consisted of walking to and from class; she’d tasted a beer once.
Nevertheless, the two girls were friendly with each other. They’d accommodated each other’s quirks and had never had an argument. Both knew they probably wouldn’t see each other after this year, when Patty would move into the Delta Gamma sorority house and Amelia would stay in the dorms.
“Ugh. Adam’ll get me through PoliSci, but I think my English professor is going to fail me,” Amelia moaned, gathering her school bag and jacket and searching for her keys.
“Don’t get me started on your weirdo brother. He spent PoliSci creeping on my friend. He was reading her g-chat conversations!”