Day 55: What Does 55 Days of Silence Actually Say?
I'm up early this morning.
It's not a dialysis day. I received a tetanus shot Thursday morning; the vaccine appears to be doing its job. I feel miserable, and I haven't slept much.
So naturally, at an unreasonable hour on a Saturday, my mind wandered back to Nextdoor, Nirav Tolia, Jacob Chavis, Investor Relations, and Communications.
Welcome to Day 55.
Fifty-five days since I requested a study.
At this point, I'm less interested in repeating the timeline and more interested in this:
What does saying absolutely nothing communicate?
Because silence communicates, too.
I don't know what's happening internally at Nextdoor, so let's consider some possibilities.
Maybe the strategy is:
Don't engage.
Maybe someone believes that if nobody responds, eventually I'll move on.
Maybe acknowledging my request gives my questions attention they'd rather avoid.
Perhaps no one wants ownership of the response.
Maybe responding creates more questions.
I don't have the study yet, and I haven't received an explanation.
Maybe it's bureaucracy.
Maybe it's indifference.
Or maybe there isn't a strategy at all.
I don't know.
That's the fascinating part.
When an organization refuses to communicate, outsiders fill the vacuum themselves.
After 55 days, the story isn't simply, "Niel hasn't received the study."
The story becomes:
Why won't anyone respond?
I've emailed Jacob Chavis, Investor Relations, and Communications. I've addressed CEO Nirav Tolia. I've publicly documented the experience.
People at Nextdoor have viewed my LinkedIn profile.
Yet the response remains:
Nothing.
From my perspective, pretending something isn't happening doesn't make it disappear. It can make the original issue larger.
A two-sentence email weeks ago could have changed this:
"Niel, thank you for reaching out. Unfortunately, we're unable to provide the study."
I might have disagreed. I probably would have asked why.
But at least we'd be communicating.
Instead, we're on Day 55.
And now I'm studying the silence itself.
Accountability doesn't require agreeing with me.
It doesn't require giving me the answer I want.
It requires acknowledging the question and owning the response.
Because when leadership says nothing long enough, people eventually stop asking only about the original issue.
They start asking what the silence says about the culture behind it.
It seems someone at Nextdoor may believe ignoring this is the safest strategy.
From where I'm sitting, 55 days later, I'm not sure it's working.
Now I'm going to attempt to get some sleep.
Join the discussion at NielFlamm.com/blog. What do you think 55 days of silence communicates?
Plot Twist: It Was Probably the Tetanus Shot
Friday evening, around 7:00 PM EDT, I was at a recovery meeting when my neck started feeling tight.
Nothing dramatic. Just tight.
Friday is also a dialysis day, so aches, fatigue, and generally feeling like I've been run over by something aren't exactly unfamiliar territory. I had taken some time during the day to sleep and recover, so my first thought was simple:
I probably slept wrong.
Mystery solved.
Or so I thought.
I got home around 8:30 PM. There had been a group conscience/business meeting, I wrote my latest Nextdoor post, and then I hopped onto Zoom with the Fraternity guys.
Basically, a perfectly normal Friday night in my world.
As the Zoom went on, however, things started going downhill.
I was getting achier.
I was getting cold.
And then the thought entered my head:
OMG. Did I pick up ANOTHER flu or virus?
Because apparently my immune system has decided that 2026 is the year we're going to collect illnesses like they're Pokémon.
By around 11:00 PM, I gave up and went to bed.
I'm writing this now at around 6:00 AM EDT after what can generously be described as a terrible night's sleep.
My left arm hurts. I'm achy. I'm pretty sure I have a fever. I feel miserable, and most importantly, I know my body well enough to recognize that this isn't my normal post-dialysis "I've had better days" feeling.
Then, sometime during the night, my brain finally decided to provide one very important piece of information:
Thursday morning, I got a tetanus shot.
Oh.
Yeah.
That.
Mystery possibly solved.
I'm not an anti-vaxxer. I got the original three COVID shots early on, and I've been offered additional boosters since.
But here's the problem:
Every COVID shot made me feel absolutely miserable for almost exactly 36 hours.
Apparently my immune system doesn't quietly process a vaccine.
It holds a staff meeting.
There are committees.
There are breakout sessions.
Someone orders lunch.
And apparently the entire organization needs about 36 hours to discuss what just entered the building.
I understand why it happens. Vaccines are designed to get the immune system ready to recognize and respond to a particular threat. Fever, fatigue, aches, chills, and a sore arm can happen afterward.
Knowing why I feel miserable, however, doesn't make me feel any less miserable.
Which brings me to the vaccine I've been successfully avoiding:
Shingles.
I've been told I should get the shingles vaccine. I'm diabetic. I'm on dialysis. I've had chickenpox. There are plenty of reasons for me to take shingles seriously.
And yet…
I keep putting the vaccine off.
It's not because I think vaccines are bad.
It's because I know the conversation that's going to happen in my head:
Responsible Niel: "You should get the shingles vaccine."
Other Niel: "Remember the COVID shots?"
Responsible Niel: "Yes."
Other Niel: "Remember the tetanus shot?"
Responsible Niel: "Unfortunately."
Other Niel: "Let's revisit this next month."
So here I am, Saturday morning, achy, feverish, sleep-deprived, with a sore arm, writing a blog post at 6:00 AM because apparently sleeping wasn't on the schedule.
The good news?
I probably didn't pick up another random virus.
The bad news?
My immune system appears to be holding another all-hands meeting.
Given how I feel right now, attendance is mandatory.
Nextdoor Is Burning Less Cash. Great. Now Show Shareholders the Rest of the Story.
Credit where credit is due.
As a Nextdoor shareholder, I have no problem acknowledging good news.
Since going public, Nextdoor has made significant progress reducing its operating cash burn. The company's financial performance appears to be moving in the right direction.
In Q1 2026, CEO Nirav Tolia highlighted several encouraging metrics:
Revenue increased 14% year over year to $62 million.
Weekly Active Users reached 22.3 million.
Net loss fell from $22 million to $11 million.
Jennifer Conrad discussed these results in her May 11, 2026, Inc. article:
🔗 Is Nextdoor's Positive Earnings Call the Sign of a Turnaround?
Then came Q2 2026:
✅ Revenue increased to $75 million, up 15% year over year.
✅ Platform WAU reached 22.9 million.
✅ Net loss narrowed to $2 million, compared with $15 million a year earlier.
✅ Adjusted EBITDA improved to $10 million, versus a $2 million loss a year earlier.
Those improvements deserve recognition.
But one figure also stood out.
While revenue increased, losses narrowed, and Adjusted EBITDA turned positive, cash, cash equivalents, and marketable securities declined from approximately $404.8 million at year-end 2025 to $378 million on June 30, 2026.
That's a $26.8 million decrease in six months.
That isn't necessarily negative. Companies deploy cash for legitimate reasons. But as a shareholder, I'd like to understand what specifically drove the decline while the reported operating metrics improved.
Growth investments? Working capital? Capital expenditures? Something else?
I'd also like to understand how much of the revenue improvement is attributable to charging local businesses to comment on neighborhood posts and solicit business.
If that's generating meaningful incremental revenue, tell shareholders.
If it isn't, what is?
And I'd still welcome an independent audit of Weekly Active Users (WAU).
WAU is one of Nextdoor's headline performance metrics. Independent validation would strengthen confidence in the number and give shareholders a clearer picture of the platform's health.
I've also raised questions about moderation, governance, appeals, platform integrity, and the evolving business model. Improving financial results don't make those questions disappear.
Revenue is growing.
Losses are shrinking.
Adjusted EBITDA is positive.
Yet cash on hand decreased by $26.8 million in six months.
The numbers are getting better. Now give shareholders greater transparency into why they're getting better, where the cash is going, and what is actually driving the growth.
The strongest public companies don't simply report better numbers.
They explain them.
Join the discussion on NielFlamm.com/blog.
The Powerball Department Is Now Open: 120 Tickets, 12 Brothers, and the Niel Tax™
I put together a lot more than just buying 120 Powerball tickets this week.
Somewhere between spreadsheets, probability calculations, payout estimates, tax assumptions, and trying to explain to a group of fraternity brothers why $4 divided by 12 doesn't make anyone rich, I may have accidentally become the Chief Financial Officer of the Tau Epsilon Phi Lottery Department.
The easy part is collecting everyone's $20.
The hard part is answering the important questions.
“What are our odds?”
With 120 unique tickets:
Jackpot: about 1 in 2,435,012
Percentage chance: 0.0000411%
Any prize: approximately 99.27%
Chance of winning nothing: approximately 0.73%
Then came the inevitable follow-up.
“What happens if we actually win?”
Now we're talking.
Using the current estimated $856 million advertised jackpot and an estimated $372 million cash option, with 12 brothers, everyone would receive approximately:
Prize Estimated Take-Home Per Brother
Jackpot $17.67 million
$1,000,000 $47,500
$50,000 $2,375
$100 $4.75
Then I looked at the remaining prize tiers.
A $7 prize split twelve ways is...
58 cents.
A $4 prize?
33 cents.
Unfortunately, Zelle has one tiny flaw in its business model:
It won't let me send you 33 cents.
Therefore, after careful consultation with absolutely nobody, I have created what will forever be known as...
The Niel Tax™
Any prize that works out to less than $1 per participant will be retained by the Lottery Commissioner — me — as a convenience fee for:
Collecting everyone's money
Buying the tickets
Tracking the numbers
Calculating the odds
Estimating federal and South Carolina taxes
Explaining for the fifteenth time that “1 in 2.4 million” is actually pretty good compared to one ticket
And, perhaps most importantly, avoiding the embarrassment of sending eleven separate Zelle payments for 33 cents
Think of it as an administrative processing fee.
Or a beverage fund.
Or reimbursement for the gas it takes to drive to Harris Teeter while getting strange looks from the cashier after buying what appears to be enough lottery tickets to finance a small nation.
If we win the jackpot, I promise to waive the Niel Tax.
If we win $4...
Well...
Congratulations.
I just earned another Coke Zero.
Good luck, Lotto Dudes.
Somebody has to win.
The Stories We Need... and the Stories We Keep Getting
Let's agree these are great things.
🐾 Lost pets reunited with their families.
💍 Returning a treasured heirloom, wedding ring, or keepsake.
❤️ Checking on a neighbor after a loss, illness, or surgery.
🍔 Discovering a hidden local restaurant or coffee shop.
🏃 Neighbors exercising together.
👥 Clubs and groups bringing people together.
🛍️ Supporting local small businesses.
🎃 Reminding people to stay safe during holidays.
⛈️ Preparing for severe weather.
We also know:
Loud neighbors at 2 a.m. aren't considerate.
Cancer and other life-altering diseases are heartbreaking.
Kindness matters.
I could keep going.
So what's my point?
It's not that these stories aren't important.
They absolutely are.
My concern is that they're the same kinds of stories I repeatedly see promoted on LinkedIn, X, and the Nextdoor blog.
Feel-good stories have their place.
But I'd also like to see some journalism about the platform itself.
I want to read about:
How the unpaid moderator program actually works.
Interviews with moderators about their experiences.
How appeals are reviewed.
What quality assurance exists.
How moderation consistency is measured.
What metrics leadership uses to determine whether the current model is succeeding.
Those stories would help users, advertisers, and shareholders better understand the platform.
Those are conversations worth having.
Then, after we've explored how the platform works behind the scenes...
Let's absolutely celebrate the dogs finding homes, neighbors helping neighbors, and hidden gems around town.
There's room for both.
Join the discussion at NielFlamm.com/blog. Leave some feedback—I'd love to hear from you.