The sentence said at 11:04 on a Tuesday is already an introduction in motion by noon, signed in the voice of whoever it needed to come from.
“FDA MDR is what'll kill a feature.”
You find out what the oracle did on Friday.
Sarah said one thing on a call you weren't on: FDA MDR was going to kill a feature. By the time she'd finished lunch, an email had been drafted in her voice to the one person in your network who'd fought that fight at Abbott. She read it, changed two words, sent it. The meeting is Thursday at ten.
Dan,
Short note after a long morning. We're hitting something on MDR that I'd love twenty minutes on, and you're the one person I know who's been through it from the Abbott side.
If it helps, I read your 2019 MedCity piece twice on the flight last month. The part on post-market surveillance is exactly the corner we're in.
Any time Thursday?
— Sarah
Sarah led a Class II diagnostic through FDA 510(k) in 2022 and is raising her Series B. Piloting with two hospital systems. Cedars-Sinai is the one she wants.
At 11:04, on a call she didn't know was being kept, Sarah said FDA MDR is what'll kill a feature. She has not said it to you. Do not ask; let her raise it.
Her October 14 note to you asked whether reimbursement leadership should come before or after the round. She hired a VP Clinical from Abbott last week.
Marcus opened his brief three minutes before the call. It included the sentence Sarah said offhand on Tuesday, the one she hadn't meant for anyone to keep. Thursday's meeting spent zero minutes on introductions and forty on the thing that mattered.
Seventeen of your founders had conversations this week that started with a sentence said to someone else. Four became second meetings. One became a term sheet. Nobody in your office introduced any of them. The report told you which three founders to call on Monday, not because you asked but because it had already read the week.