Day 56: At This Point, the Silence Is a Decision

It's Day 56.

I've been following up on why Jacob Chavis hasn't sent the study I requested.

I've asked why Nirav Tolia, Investor Relations, and Communications haven't acknowledged the situation.

I've emailed.

I've followed up.

I've posted publicly.

I've documented the experience at NielFlamm.com/blog.

So today, I'm looking at this differently.

Maybe the lack of communication is the communication.

After 56 days, it's becoming increasingly difficult for me to view this as an overlooked email or something that fell through the cracks.

Maybe someone made a decision not to engage.

Maybe nobody wants ownership.

Maybe Nextdoor believes responding will encourage more questions.

Maybe the study can't—or won't—be provided.

I don't know.

But that's exactly the problem.

Silence creates its own narrative.

And here's where this gets bigger than my study.

Nextdoor's entire value proposition revolves around neighbors communicating with neighbors.

CEO Nirav Tolia frequently talks about community and connection.

Yet my experience as a shareholder has been the opposite:

56 days without a conversation.

Think about that from a customer-experience perspective.

If I were designing training around this scenario, I wouldn't focus primarily on whether the customer—or shareholder—was right.

I'd ask:

How did something this simple reach Day 56?

Where was the escalation?

Who owned the request?

When did someone recognize that the lack of a response had become a bigger problem than the original question?

And perhaps most importantly:

What does the organization learn from it?

That's what accountability should ultimately accomplish.

Not blame.

Not defensiveness.

Learning followed by change.

I've written before that we inspect what we expect.

So I'm inspecting.

I'm watching the moderation model.

I'm watching the increasing monetization of small-business interactions.

I'm watching the financial results.

I'm watching corporate communication.

And I'm watching how Nextdoor handles a shareholder who keeps asking a question it apparently doesn't want to answer.

Maybe someone inside Nextdoor believes I'll eventually get tired of asking.

After 56 days, that seems like an increasingly questionable strategy.

Because the longer this continues, the less interesting the original study becomes.

The case study is becoming Nextdoor itself.

Join the discussion at NielFlamm.com/blog.

What does 56 days without an answer tell you? Leave some feedback—I'd love to hear your perspective.

One Night Only: The Purge Meets Valentine's Day

Imagine a future where the government gives unmarried people 12 hours to hook up—and when the clock runs out, it's back to being illegal.

That's the wonderfully strange setup for One Night Only, a dystopian romantic comedy I knew absolutely nothing about before walking into the theater. And I'm glad I didn't.

It's part The Purge, part Valentine's Day, with chance encounters, government tracking, romance, some familiar faces, and a good guy trying to get the girl.

Does he?

I'm not telling.

🎬 Watch my full review at NielFlamm.com/videos/moviereviews

Is Nextdoor Building a Pay-to-Participate Community?

Something dawned on me shortly after publishing my Day 55 posts.

Maybe Nextdoor's latest business pricing strategy shouldn't surprise me.

I recently saw a LinkedIn post from Karen Levy discussing Nextdoor's new pay-to-play system for businesses. Business accounts are reporting that they must pay an additional fee to respond to certain neighbor posts as potential sales leads.

That got me thinking:

What does this potentially do to WAU among businesses?

Nextdoor reports Platform Weekly Active Users (WAU) as an important metric. If participating in valuable conversations becomes more expensive—particularly for small businesses with limited marketing budgets—what happens to engagement?

Do they pay?

Or decide:

This isn't worth it anymore?

That's interesting because, from my perspective, Nextdoor has increasingly created an environment where conversation feels restricted.

Nextdoor doesn't allow comments on its blog.

Nextdoor Communications doesn't allow comments on its LinkedIn posts.

CEO Nirav Tolia blocked me on LinkedIn.

And now, according to business owners, participating in certain conversations with potential customers comes with another price tag.

Are these separate decisions—or examples of the same philosophy?

Control the conversation. Monetize the conversation. But how much are you actually encouraging the conversation?

I also want to be transparent.

I understand the "buck stops with me" approach to leadership.

Someone has to make decisions.

On a ridiculously smaller scale, I organize a lottery pool for my fraternity chapter brothers. My rules for today's pool were simple:

$20. Cash option when we obviously win—payment through Zelle by 2:00 p.m. EDT on 8/8/26.

Those are my rules.

I'm unapologetic about them.

But here's the difference:

I communicated them.

If someone asks why, I answer.

I don't pretend the question wasn't asked.

That's what keeps bringing me back to Nextdoor.

I'm on Day 55 and haven't received the study or a response.

I've continued emailing, posting, and commenting publicly on X. I've also seen multiple Nextdoor employees viewing my LinkedIn profile.

Yet nobody will answer.

I previously received a read receipt from John T. Williams in Investor Relations. I haven't received one from Nirav, but after 55 days and numerous attempts at communication, the silence raises questions.

So, Nirav:

The buck stops somewhere. You're the CEO. What gives?

You don't have to agree with me.

You don't have to like my posts.

You don't even have to send me the study.

But after 55 days, why can't someone communicate the answer?

Join the discussion at NielFlamm.com/blog. I'd genuinely like your perspective.

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.