Years ago I met Jim, a bartender taking a bootcamp to become a developer. He lived off his girlfriend’s well‑off family and dreamed of big‑bucks in tech. He approached me with a routing bug in his food‑delivery app, showing ambition, hunger, and charisma. After I helped debug, a nudge in my network landed him a role at a startup that was acquired by a Fortune 100, pushing him into the 6 figure range. His newfound wealth triggered lifestyle changes: a 10k tree‑slice table, beer brewing, pets, and reckless spending. A month after the acquisition he was fired—likely because he could no longer focus amid home‑office distractions.

Determined to reach the promised land, he set his sights on Silicon Valley. With old connections, he and a fellow bootcamp graduate applied to YC and got in. He flew to San Francisco, posted daily updates—photos with Sam Altman, bold statements, and high‑valuation numbers—yet his startups failed. He briefly became Head of Engineering at another firm, founded a new venture with an ex‑Big Tech engineer, and then vanished, his posts turning into AI slop and all‑caps nonsense. After a year, friends reported his “founder parties,” drug use, and breakup, leading to a nervous breakdown and disappearance.

His story reminds me that the Valley’s pipeline turns many Jims into the meat grinder: a few celebrated, most squished; steady progress is the norm in 99.9% of cases.