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How companies make their founders rich and their shareholders poor

Written by Camille

It's 2011. You're British, you like craft beer, and a scrappy little Scottish brewery called BrewDog has just offered you something unusual: a chance to own a piece of it.

They called it Equity for Punks, which is exactly as cool as it sounds, and the pitch was simple: buy shares, become a co-owner, stick it to the boring old beer establishment together. You hand over your money. Why not? The beer is great, the growth is real, and the whole thing feels like being in on something before everyone else is.

Fast forward to 2026. BrewDog gets sold. The company that once hit a £1.8 billion valuation (billion, with a B) and still does £350 million in annual sales has found a buyer.

You, the loyal fan-shareholder who believed in the dream back in 2011, get approximately… nothing.

Now, BrewDog did have a rough stretch. Five consecutive years of net losses, £148 million in the red between 2020 and 2024, pandemic hangovers, an energy crisis, the cost of expanding aggressively into pubs and breweries across the country. These things happen. But £350 million in revenue is not a failing business. This is a company that made it.

So how do you build something real, sell it for real money, and leave your earliest believers with nothing to show for it?

That's what we're getting into today. And the answer, as it so often does, comes down to something nobody reads until it's too late: the fine print.

The fork in the road

To understand how this happened, we need to go back to 2017, when the BrewDog founders sold 22% share of the company to a private equity firm called TSG, for a total of £223 million.

Until this point, everything seems pretty normal. Private equity comes in, writes a big cheque, founders get some cash off the table, everyone shakes hands and goes for a beer. Literally, in this case. The PE firm gets their stake, and in exchange they bring capital, connections, and (this is the part people forget) a very good legal team.

BrewDog's ascendency was turbocharged by its rebel “punk” culture

Here's where it gets interesting.

The founders, James Watt and Martin Dickie, used their voting power to convert TSG's shares into something called preferred shares. Now, "preferred shares" sounds like a nice upgrade, like preferred boarding on an airline. And for TSG, it absolutely was. Preferred shares sit ahead of ordinary shares in the queue, meaning if the company ever gets sold or goes bust, preferred shareholders get paid first, before the regular folk who bought in through Equity for Punks get a single penny.

But it gets better. Or worse, depending on where you're sitting.

TSG's preferred shares came with a guarantee: an 18% compounded annual return, to be paid out whenever the company was sold. Eighteen percent, compounding, every single year, quietly doing its thing in the background while BrewDog opened pubs and won awards and lost money and generally got on with being BrewDog.

Let's do the maths. TSG put in £223 million in 2017. At 18% compounding annually, by the time the sale happened roughly nine years later, that £223 million had become… wait for it… £945 million. A 345% return. From a company that was losing money on paper.

So here's the question that should be keeping the Equity for Punks shareholders up at night: did the two founders not understand the power of compounding, or did they choose to royally screw their ordinary shareholders on purpose?

Because the moment those preferred shares were signed into existence, the company was on a hidden countdown clock. Every year that passed, TSG's effective claim on the business grew; not because they owned more shares on paper, but because their guaranteed return was silently eating into whatever was left for everyone else. For ordinary shareholders to get anything in a sale, BrewDog didn't just need to succeed. It needed to outrun an 18% annual compounding obligation. For nine years.

Didn't I mention these PE guys are smart?

What we can learn from BrewDog’s story

Here's the uncomfortable truth about being a public shareholder: you are, to varying degrees, a passenger. You own a piece of the business, yes. But owning a piece and controlling a piece are very different things, and the distance between those two concepts is where a lot of investor pain lives.

In theory, the corporate world has guardrails. The main one is the board of directors: a group of supposedly independent adults who are voted in by shareholders each year and whose job is to keep the CEO honest, challenge bad strategy, and generally make sure whoever's running the company isn't doing something catastrophically stupid. It's an imperfect system, but it's something.

Except sometimes, founders find clever ways around it. The two most common tricks: voting trusts (where insiders pool their shares to vote as a block, ensuring they always clear the 50%+1 threshold needed to win any shareholder vote) and dual-class share structures (where founders hold, say, Class B shares worth 10 votes each, while the public holds Class A shares worth 1 vote each).

Now, to be fair, this isn't always bad. Sometimes it's genuinely good.

Google

Take Google. When Larry Page and Sergey Brin structured Alphabet with a dual-class setup, the argument was: we are going to do things that look insane in the short term, that no quarterly-earnings-obsessed institutional investor would ever approve of, and we need the freedom to do them. And they weren't wrong.

Waymo (the self-driving car project) has been burning money for over a decade. DeepMind, the AI lab they acquired in 2014, didn't produce obvious commercial returns for years. Neither would have survived a traditional shareholder democracy. Sometimes the visionary founder really does know better, and insulating them from the crowd is how you get long-term compounding instead of short-term thinking.

Waymo has been losing money for Google since 2009

But (and this is a large but) the structure doesn't distinguish between a visionary and a guy who's just really, really confident.

Meta

Which brings us to Mark Zuckerberg and the Metaverse. In 2021, Zuckerberg decided that the future of human connection was people wandering around in virtual reality as legless cartoon avatars. He renamed the entire company Meta to signal his commitment. He then proceeded to spend somewhere in the region of $80 billion on this vision over the following years, while his shareholders, who largely thought this was a terrible idea by the way, could do precisely nothing about it. The stock fell 65% in 2022. Reality Labs, the metaverse division, became one of the most spectacular money furnaces in corporate history.

To Zuckerberg's credit, he course-corrected. Meta pivoted to AI, cut costs aggressively, and the stock has since recovered dramatically. But here's the thing: it recovered because he decided it should. Not because shareholders forced his hand. As long as Zuckerberg remains in charge, there will always be a non-trivial risk that the next big idea is another metaverse.

Snap

Then there's Snap, the parent company of Snapchat. When going public in 2017, it listed with zero voting rights for public shareholders; a first for a major U.S. company. The founders control the company absolutely. One of Snap's annual shareholder meetings lasted three minutes and consisted entirely of a pre-recorded message from the company's lawyer, informing investors that their votes were not really needed. The stock is down roughly 80% from its IPO price, and shareholders can’t do a thing about it.

Snap is down 82% since its 2017 IPO

In conclusion

Unless you want to end up in a BrewDog situation, you need to look at the shareholder structure before you invest. Preferably before things go wrong. An unchecked founder is always a risk worth considering. One that doesn't show up in revenue figures or profit margins, but can quietly determine whether your investment compounds beautifully or evaporates on someone else's whim.

At RatedA, we call this governance risk, and it's one of the things our Quality Ratings are designed to reflect.

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