Gold Digger – Story 11 – NOAH’S WORLD
Noah invited me to a founders dinner.
I want to be clear that I researched this.
I wore the right thing. Said yes to the right car. Arrived at exactly the right time with exactly the right level of composed confidence.
None of it mattered.
The venue was the kind of place that looks like a warehouse because it used to be a warehouse and now costs more per evening than some people’s rent and everyone pretends not to know that. Long tables. No assigned seats. The kind of lighting that makes everyone look like they’ve made better decisions than they probably have.
Noah arrived three minutes after me, kissed me once, introduced me to two people whose names I immediately lost, and then – evaporated.
Not rudely.
Not intentionally.
He just – moved. The way he always moves. Fast and certain and already onto the next thing.
I stood with my drink and watched him work the room.
He was good at it. I’ll give him that. Noah in a room of founders is Noah in his element – fast handshakes, faster sentences, the specific energy of someone who has something everyone wants and knows exactly how long to let them want it.
I recognized the technique.
I use the technique.
Watching someone else use it on a room while you’re standing at the edge of it is a different experience entirely.
A woman next to me – 40s, corporate, the look of someone who had attended nine thousand of these – appeared beside me at the drinks table.
“First time?” she asked.
“Is it that obvious?”
“No.” She looked at Noah across the room. “You just haven’t figured out yet that nobody gets looked after in his world.”
She said it without judgment.
That was somehow worse.
Noah came back three times in the first hour.
Each time with someone he wanted me to meet. Each time he introduced me as – this is Mila – and then immediately started talking to the someone he’d brought over and I stood there being Mila, which is usually sufficient, except usually being Mila means something specific and intentional and here it just meant she’s with Noah.
I was Mila all three times.
Just Mila.
I noticed that at the second introduction.
I sat with it for a while over a glass of wine that cost more than I was going to think about.
Richard makes space.
Noah assumes you’ll find your own.
Neither approach is wrong.
One of them is significantly more comfortable.
I can create my own space. I’ve been creating my own space since I was old enough to understand that nobody was going to create it for me. That’s not the point.
The point is that I’m running an operation and the operation requires me to be seen and here I am in a room full of people who are all running their own operations and none of them are looking at me because Noah’s world doesn’t stop for anyone and apparently that includes me.
Noah found me at the end of the evening. Bright. Easy. Already onto the next thing – a club, later this week, private table, you’ll love it.
I smiled.
Said yes.
Added it to the calendar.
In the Uber home I opened the spreadsheet.
Noah → momentum: high.
Then I sat with it for a moment and added one more line.
Problem: I can’t tell if we’re going somewhere or just moving fast.
Spreadsheet status:
Noah → momentum: high. direction: unclear. note: he introduced me three times. I was Mila all three times. just Mila.
Richard → dinner three: Thursday. note: he makes space.
D → [row does not exist]
Nobody gets looked after in his world. That’s what she said. I’m still thinking about whether that includes me. – Mila