These sentiments are hardly aberrations. There's an ingrained mythology around startups that not only celebrates burn-out efforts, but damn well requires it. It's the logical outcome of trying to compress a lifetime's worth of work into the abbreviated timeline of a venture fund.
It's not hard to understand why such a mythology serves the interest of money men who spread their bets wide and only succeed when unicorns emerge. Of course, they're going to desire fairytale sacrifices. There's little to no consequence to them if the many fall by the wayside, spent to completion trying to hit that home run. Make me rich or die tryin'.
The entrepreneurs who sign up for such pressures may have asked for it. If you, knowing their sentiments, ask Rabois or Suster for millions to fund your venture, then you probably should expect to have your vacations, weekends, hobbies, family time, or outings with the kids questioned.
But the pressures don't stop with the person who signs the term sheet. That shit trickles down. In fact, it's likely to amplify as it rolls down the hill, like a snowball gathering mass. Because once the millions have cleared, and the headcount has been boosted, it's usually other people who actually have to make good on those exponential expectations.
The sly entrepreneur seeks to cajole their employees with carrots. Organic, locally-sourced ones, delightfully prepared by a master chef, of course. In the office. Along with all the other pampering and indulgent spoils AT THE OFFICE. The game is to make it appear as though employees choose this life for themselves, that they just love spending all their waking (and in some cases, even sleeping) hours at that damn office.
And if the soma-like inducements don't work, there's always the lofty talk about THE MISSION: We're not just here to capture more attention or steal more privacy in the name of advertising, no, we're connecting the world! Your single-track life has meaning! All your sacrifices are for a greater good!
Not only are these sacrifices statistically overwhelmingly likely to be in vain, they're also completely disproportionate. The programmer or designer or writer or even manager that gives up their life for a 80+ hour moonshot will comparably-speaking be compensated in bananas, even if their lottery coupon should line up. The lion's share will go to the Scar and his hyenas, not the monkeys.
And yet so many continue to go along, because they already went this far. Sunk cost is an easy theoretical concept, but it's devilishly hard to put in practice. Which is why the yoke of the four-year vesting cliff, the short-exercise window for options, and all the other tricks and techniques employed by cap table-designing masters are so effective. Once the hook is in, the line and the sinker follows easily.