By 1990, I had learned that patience and timing could transform even modest fortunes into powerful tools. My Microsoft stocks, acquired during the aftermath of Black Monday, had grown impressively over the past few years. After careful consideration, I decided it was the right moment to liquidate. Accounting for taxes and a few strategic purchases to diversify my holdings, I ended up with $3.5 million in liquid capital — enough to make moves that would define the next decade of my life.
With capital secured, I focused on expanding my influence. I secured an internship at Sequoia Capital, one of Silicon Valley's most prestigious venture capital firms. This was more than just a job; it was a window into the world of high-stakes investing, startup evaluation, and decision-making at the highest level. Every meeting, pitch session, and discussion became a lesson in strategy, foresight, and influence. Through Sequoia, I began cultivating relationships beyond Stanford, connecting with founders, directors, and venture investors who would play pivotal roles in the tech boom.
Then came the opportunity I had been anticipating: the IPO of Cisco Systems in February 1990. I had studied the company extensively, understanding its technology, the growing importance of networking, and its long-term potential. While most investors saw a typical tech company, I saw the foundation of a decade-long gold mine. Quietly, I began purchasing shares. By the end of the IPO, my $3.5 million had secured me 1.56 percent of Cisco's total stock — a significant stake for someone my age.
The position immediately drew attention. Founders, directors, and early investors began noticing me. Invitations followed — corporate gatherings, networking dinners, and parties organized by Cisco itself. These events were more than social opportunities; they were strategic platforms. I was no longer just a student or a small-time investor. I was becoming a recognized figure in Silicon Valley, someone whose presence could not be ignored.
At Sequoia, my exposure increased exponentially. I met Michael Moritz, the legendary investor behind Google, Yahoo, PayPal, and other transformative companies. He was sharp, discerning, and precise — the kind of mentor whose attention could open doors others could not even see. Over time, I began capturing his notice. Our conversations were intellectual, measured, and strategic. I wasn't simply learning; I was demonstrating that I understood startups, valuation, and market dynamics at a level few undergraduates could approach.
By combining my capital, market foresight, and strategic networking, I created a trifecta of influence: money, knowledge, and connections. The Microsoft exit had funded my Cisco stake. Cisco had given me visibility and access to tech insiders. Sequoia provided a direct line to venture capital legends, expanding my understanding of the forces shaping Silicon Valley's future.
By the end of the year, I realized something crucial: the plan was unfolding exactly as intended. Patience, strategy, and foresight were no longer abstract concepts; they were tangible assets, multiplying both wealth and influence. The game had grown beyond stocks, beyond textbooks, beyond Stanford. The world was now a board, and I was moving my pieces deliberately, quietly, and with precision.
Seventeen had been transformative. Eighteen had set the foundation. Now, nineteen and twenty were waiting — the years when careful planning would start to yield extraordinary results. The journey toward the first billion had officially entered its decisive stage.