The Price of Hubris (part II)
The Emma Caldwell Chronicles
Part II of Emma Caldwell story.
Emma lasted exactly three weeks at her new job before VisionCore called her back.
"Consultant," Vince had said on the phone, his voice missing its usual swagger. "Not employee. We need someone who understands what went wrong with SyncGo."
"You fired me for understanding what went wrong with SyncGo."
"That was... a misunderstanding."
Emma quoted a day rate that should have ended the conversation. Vince agreed immediately, which told her things were worse than she'd imagined.
She walked back into VisionCore's offices on a Monday morning, carrying nothing but a laptop and the knowledge that she could leave whenever she wanted. The contract was week-to-week. The moment Vince reverted to his old patterns, she'd walk.
The Pitch
"AI-powered sunglasses," Vince announced at the kickoff meeting.
Emma started packing her laptop.
"Wait," Vince said quickly. "This time is different. We're doing validation first. Real validation. That's why you're here."
Emma stopped packing but didn't unpack. "How long do I have?"
"Four weeks."
She resumed packing.
"How long do you need?" Vince asked, desperation creeping into his voice.
"Minimum eight weeks for discovery. Probably twelve to be sure."
"You have six."
Emma looked around the room. Rick Chen was still there, looking exhausted. Sarah Kim had been promoted to Lead Designer, though her enthusiasm had been replaced with wariness. A few new faces, probably hired to replace those who'd fled after SyncGo.
"Six weeks of real research," Emma said. "No building anything until I present findings. No prototypes, no engineering sprints, nothing."
"Fine."
"I want that in writing."
Vince's jaw tightened, but he nodded.
The Research
Emma brought in two junior researchers from her network, people she trusted to ask real questions and document real answers. They ran the discovery like anthropologists studying an undiscovered tribe.
Week one: Airport lounges and train stations, talking to travelers about their pain points.
Week two: Tech stores and coffee shops, understanding how people actually used wearables.
Week three: Focus groups with people who'd bought and returned smart glasses from other companies.
The patterns emerged quickly:
Nobody wanted another device to manage
Sunglasses were inherently limited by weather and time of day
Sunglasses were deeply personal and everyone already had a pair from their favorite brand
The price point ($300) competed with established products that did more
Translation apps on phones worked fine for most situations
"We're solving a problem that doesn't exist," Emma told her researchers.
"What do we tell Vince?" one asked.
"The truth. With data."
The Presentation
Six weeks later, Emma presented to the leadership team. She'd prepared forty slides but knew she'd only get through ten before someone interrupted.
She made it to slide three.
"You're telling me nobody wants smart sunglasses?" Vince interrupted.
"I'm telling you nobody wants these smart sunglasses at this price point for these use cases."
"But Google Glass—"
"Failed."
"Magic Leap—"
"Pivoted to enterprise."
"Apple is working on—"
"Something that probably isn't sunglasses."
Rick Chen spoke up. "My team has been researching the technical requirements. Even if we wanted to build this, the battery life would be two hours max. Nobody's going to charge their sunglasses every two hours."
Sarah added, "The interface design is nearly impossible. You can't put a meaningful display on sunglass lenses without making them look like a heads-up display from a fighter jet."
Vince stood up, pacing. "So you're all telling me we should just give up?"
"I'm telling you," Emma said calmly, "that we should build something people actually want."
The Pivot
"Fine," Vince said after a long silence. "What do people want?"
Emma clicked to slide twenty-seven, which she'd titled 'What We Actually Learned.'
"Translation technology that works in noisy environments. Every traveler we interviewed wanted this. But not in sunglasses. They wanted it in their existing earbuds."
"That's not innovative," Vince protested.
"It's a $2 billion market that's actually growing."
"But we announced sunglasses—"
"To who? Nobody outside this room knows what we're building."
Kathryn, the COO who'd stayed silent since SyncGo, finally spoke. "How long would the earbud software take to develop?"
Rick pulled up his laptop. "If we're just building software for existing hardware? Three months. Maybe four for a really polished version."
"And the market?" Kathryn asked Emma.
"Every major earbud manufacturer is looking for differentiating software. We could license to all of them."
Vince slumped in his chair. "Software licensing. That's not the kind of company I wanted to build."
"No," Emma said. "You wanted to build the next Apple. But Apple spent decades making computers work better before they revolutionized phones."
The Decision
The room went quiet. Emma watched Vince wrestle with his ego, his vision, his need to be seen as a visionary.
"I need to think about it," he finally said.
Emma shrugged. "My contract ends Friday. Let me know by then."
She left the meeting and went to the coffee shop across the street, where Sarah found her an hour later.
"He's still in there, drawing on the whiteboard," Sarah reported.
"Drawing what?"
"Sunglasses with increasingly ridiculous features. I saw one that included a laser pointer."
Emma laughed. "At least that solves a real problem."
The Ultimatum
Thursday afternoon, Vince called Emma into his office. The whiteboard was covered with drawings, equations, and what looked like poetry about innovation.
"I can't do it," he said. "I can't be the CEO who makes translation software for other people's hardware."
"Okay," Emma said, already mentally drafting her final invoice.
"But," Vince continued, "what if we made our own earbuds? Premium ones. With our translation software as the killer feature?"
Emma considered this. "That's still hardware. Expensive to develop, expensive to manufacture."
"But it's ours. Our product, our brand, our innovation."
"How long do I have to validate this?"
"You don't," Vince said. "Your contract ends tomorrow."
Emma studied him. "You're going to build it anyway."
"I'm going to build something. With or without validation."
"Then you'll fail. Again."
Vince smiled, but it was sad. "Probably. But at least I'll fail building something I believe in."
The Exit
Emma packed up her temporary desk, which had never really been unpacked. Rick walked her out.
"You tried," he said.
"I got paid to try. You have to stay and watch it fail."
"Already interviewing elsewhere. Sarah too."
They stood in the parking lot, looking back at the building where so many bad decisions were about to be made.
"What's your prediction?" Rick asked.
"Six months until launch, another three until failure. They'll burn through about fifteen million."
"I say four months to launch. Vince is desperate now."
Emma's phone buzzed. A text from her actual boss at her actual job: "Client loved your recommendations. They want you to lead the implementation."
"I have to go build something boring that customers actually want," Emma told Rick.
"Living the dream."
"Unironically, yes."
Epilogue: Eight Months Later
Emma was reviewing user feedback for her company's latest feature when Sarah texted her a link.
"VisionCore Announces Pivot to Enterprise Software After Smart Earbuds Fail to Gain Traction"
The article included a quote from Vince: "We learned valuable lessons about the importance of market validation and customer-centric design."
Emma texted back: "How many times can someone learn the same lesson?"
"Until they run out of money," Sarah replied. "So probably once more."
Emma turned back to her spreadsheet of customer feedback. Every row represented someone who actually used their product, had actual problems, and paid actual money for solutions.
It wasn't revolutionary. But it was real.
Her phone rang. Unknown number, but she recognized the area code. VisionCore's neighborhood.
She let it go to voicemail.
Some lessons, she'd learned, were only valuable if you were willing to learn them.