In a documentary that revolves around the arrogant and buzzword-slinging ex-CEO that is Adam Neumann, there are a lot of eye-opening moments. Not just for us, the viewers, but for those who found themselves intimately involved in the implosion of a company that was once valued as high as $47 billion.
Some people saw through Neumann’s vapid self-promotion and dubious business plans much earlier than others. But eventually, everyone did.
And when they reflected on the wild ride—the over-the-top events, the business “summer camps” and everflowing alcohol, the bizarrely vague and new-age sounding mission statements—they came to some deeply unsettling realizations.
Adam Neumann’s secretary, for instance, once viewed the co-founder of WeWork as an inspiring leader and motivator. But in the end, she came to see him as a vicious manipulator.
Another employee admired his uber-passionate boss and believed that he was goodhearted in what he was trying to do. But when the truth emerged and the magic show was exposed, those feelings quickly turned to rage.
Rage for taking advantage of countless people and for putting them out of a job; rage for touting a business model that was ostensibly about changing the world but was instead about fulfilling the egotism of a deeply self-centered man.
WeWork: Or the Making and Breaking of a $47 Billion Unicorn, directed by Jed Rothstein, dives into the wild story. It’s generally interesting, although at times it also feels dull. Not because of the film itself, which is well crafted, but because the story is of a type that is getting increasingly wearisome to hear.
From Elizbeth Holmes to Sam Bankman-Fried to Adam Neumann…it’s as if history has provided us with no examples that could perhaps help us in preventing such dishonest, hubris-soaked tales from gaining such rapid momentum in the first place.
The startup WeWork began in 2010; it sought to revolutionize how people work. In time, it wanted to revolutionize the way people do just about everything. WeLive, WeSchool, and other silly-sounding business names highlighted just how many (self-absorbed) directions the company wanted to go.
As for WeWork itself, the company rented real estate all over the globe, and then refashioned the interior architecture into immaculate looking and thoughtfully-designed workspaces. The environments were meant to facilitate high levels of both productivity and happiness. The spaces came fully furnished and included a vast array of amenities: from swimming pools and hammocks, to coffee and beer. But the mission went beyond that.
As Forbes journalist Alex Konrad says in the film, “WeWork embodied an optimism and [a] millennial excitement about how to work, and how to do things together, [and] do things flexibly.” WeWork was creating work spaces that meshed with the personalities of a new generation, empowering them to succeed.
The company rapidly took in money from eager investors. Among them, was the much vaunted Masayoshi Son of SoftBank, who gave them billions. In time, WeWork received a staggering valuation of $47 billion.
The story of WeWork, however, is ultimately one not of success but of spectacular failure. While WeWork might have been built on some relatively interesting ideas, it will forever be known as a company that was given everything yet somehow managed to crash and burn.
It all came to a head when WeWork released their S-1 (a precursor for putting out an IPO). People had questions, concerns. Even aside from the numbers, forecasts, and business model, there was just something off—not least the absurd and self-righteous tone of it all. The long business document soon became a source of laughter and amusement. And it’s not hard to see why.
Shortly into its opening, it delivers this enlightening assertion: “WE DEDICATE THIS TO THE ENERGY OF WE — GREATER THAN ANYONE OF US BUT INSIDE EACH OF US.”
Indeed.
An NYU professor in the film pretty much sums up the collective reaction to this obnoxious and mystical sounding tripe: “I mean, for God’s sake, they’re renting f****** desks.”
Ironically, however, if WeWork had simply stuck to refining and executing the ideas for which the company was launched in the first place, scores of problems might have be avoided.
Yes, there were issues that needed immediate attention—the business was run in “a completely unprofitable manner,” says one observer in the film—but with appropriate board oversight, that might have changed.
Instead, a kind of arrogance ruled the day. The company spent recklessly, and steered with far too little forethought (not too mention humility). Adam, along with his wife Rebekah, wanted to spread the We Company mindset into all areas of our lives: from they way we live to the way we learn. Miraculously, they somehow had the knowledge, skills, and wisdom to transform not just one domain of human life, but multiple domains. The kind of they language they employed when attempting to articulate these lofty ideas should have raised red flags by itself.
Adam Nuemann liked to talk about “curating and creating culture.” And when Rebekah appeared on a podcast, she was asked by the host to clarify what WeSchool is all about.
The answer? “To elevate the world’s consciousness.” (Fittingly enough, that language also made it into the S-1.)
It’s no wonder that WeWork has now been discussed, at times, in the context of a cult. The authors of a 2021 book, who appear in this documentary, titled their in-depth book, The Cult of We: WeWork, Adam Neumann, and the Great Startup Delusion
Unfortunately, as is the case with any cult, there are people who get hurt and have their lives turned upside down.
In one scene of the film, a former employee remarks how Nuemann threw a hissy fit one day and caustically chided a host of employees that he could do their jobs better than all of them combined. “That’s a bold statement to say to people who are working their ass off for you,” the employee remembers thinking.
Given his behavior over the years, it’s hard to imagine that Nuemann didn’t behave this way on a regular a regular basis. And “bold” is a kind way of putting it.
The remark was arrogant, obnoxious, ungrateful. Yet that kind of attitude seems to have increasingly characterized Neumann’s behavior as his fame, prestige, and power increased. He developed the mindset of someone who is completely untethered from everyday life: the mindset of someone who thinks so little of other human beings while simultaneously demanding that everyone around them put forward their unwavering loyalty.
Ultimately, Neumann managed to exit WeWork with over a billion dollars, while scores of his once eager employees walked away with absolutely nothing.
Perhaps the most beguiling part of WeWork’s spectacular downfall, and Neumann’s role in it, occurs not directly inside the timeline, but after. Despite WeWork now having filed for bankruptcy—and there being a litany of evidence of just how poorly and recklessly Nuemann managed the company—he’s returned to the world of business, eager to get back into the game.
But surely nobody would fork over hundreds of millions of dollars to the guy who failed so badly, and who did so with such monumental hubris?
Sadly, they will—and already have.
Spectatio 