OpenAI and Anthropic haven’t filed for an IPO. But the production architecture of their eventual roadshows is already taking shape – in plain view, if you know what to look for.
DevDay 2025 looked like a developer conference. The 45-minute fireside chat between Sam Altman and Jony Ive, Apple’s former Chief Design Officer, looked like something else. To us, it played as a moment built for the institutional investors who would parse it on YouTube the next morning. Hardware ambition. Design pedigree. A three-year collaboration framed as a thesis paragraph for a future S-1.
From a production lens, that fireside reads less like a developer feature – and more like a cap-table signal.
The same pattern is playing out across the AI sector. Anthropic launched Code with Claude in May 2025 and expanded it across San Francisco, London, Tokyo, and Washington, D.C. The tour read as measured and technically rigorous, less like dev relations and more like the discipline of a public company running its narrative arc.
Audience composition appears to have shifted as well. The staging looks heavier. And the production decisions; line-of-sight blocking, fireside choreography, demo handoff timing, partner sequencing – increasingly resemble the staged moments a public company runs the year before it files.
We’re not predicting IPO timing. But we are saying the rehearsal is happening in plain view, and the production choices these labs are making now are the same ones every IPO candidate makes when they want institutional money to recognize them on sight.
The class of 2024–2026 – Reddit, CoreWeave, Klaviyo, Rippling – gave us a fresh dataset on which roadshow production decisions land and which don’t. Read that dataset alongside what’s happening at DevDay and Code with Claude, and the playbook for the next mega-IPO begins to write itself.
Here’s what we’re seeing.
Most coverage of DevDay 2025 focused on the announcements: GPT-5 Pro and Sora 2 in the API, ChatGPT Apps with Zillow, Booking.com, Target, Figma, Expedia, Uber, Instacart, OpenTable, DoorDash, and Peloton. AgentKit for autonomous workflows. Codex Slack integration.
The product news is the obvious headline. The interesting questions are about what the staging communicates.
At events of this scale, production choices rarely feel decorative. Instead, they tend to be directional. In our experience, every decision (who shares a stage, what experiences attendees walk through, which conversations linger in the memory) functions as a deliberate signal; first to the room, then to the much larger audience that catches clips, photos, and analyst recaps for weeks afterward. The question isn’t whether OpenAI staged DevDay 2025 carefully. It’s what the staging reveals about the story they want to tell.
Three production choices stand out.
When Altman sat down with Jony Ive, the staging seemed to communicate something specific to the financial world: this isn’t just a software company.
There’s hardware ambition, design pedigree, and a partner whose work shaped the iPhone, iMac, and Apple Watch. The chat felt unscripted enough to seem intimate, and structured enough to land its key points. Ive said his creative team’s purpose “became clear” with the launch of ChatGPT. Altman framed the collaboration as a three-year arc.
For developers, that’s a curiosity. For institutional investors evaluating whether OpenAI commands a hardware-software stack story, that plays as a thesis paragraph. Worth noting: the conversation wasn’t even livestreamed. It went up on YouTube hours later. To us, that distribution choice reads as confidence. The most consequential moment of the day didn’t need to compete for live attention.
A “cozy mini-theater with popcorn” featuring AI-generated short films sounds like a fun side-activation. Look closer. It’s a positioning argument. Sora moved from research preview to API offering at this event – a defining moment of value that extended far beyond a product demo.
The mini-theater turned attendees into an audience, not testers. Watching AI-generated film with popcorn in hand frames Sora as cinema. Watching it on a laptop frames it as a tool. The production choice tells the market which one OpenAI wants Sora to be.
That’s the same staging logic Reddit used in 2024 when it leaned into community as the equity story rather than DAU metrics. The product becomes the experience. The experience becomes the narrative.
The DevDay 2025 lineup looks deliberately chosen.
Each speaker delivered real content, and each one provided OpenAI with powerful, specific validation.
Stitched together, these three choices read as a single argument: this is a company with consumer scale, hardware ambition, and ecosystem depth. Whenever OpenAI eventually files, the components of the equity story are already on stage and evolving right in front of us.
Anthropic took a notably different production approach. Code with Claude launched in May 2025 as a single-day, hands-on conference at The Midway in San Francisco, then expanded into a multi-city series across San Francisco, London, Tokyo, and Washington, D.C. Where DevDay leans into spectacle, Code with Claude leans into rigor. Three choices stand out.
OpenAI sold $650 in-person tickets to anyone who clicked. Anthropic took applications and curated the room. To us, that’s a meaningful production decision.
Curating the audience signals to the financial world that the company controls who sees its developer relationship up close. It also implicitly positions Claude as a premium tool for serious builders rather than a consumer phenomenon.
For institutional investors evaluating where Anthropic sits in the AI stack, the application gate is exactly the kind of credibility signal that filters retail froth out of the room. That’s a strategic choice.
The decision to expand from a single SF event into a four-city tour mirrors how a public-company roadshow actually moves: deliberate geographic coverage, repeat performance discipline, the same narrative delivered to different markets.
To our eye, that’s not a developer marketing choice. That’s the rehearsal of an institutional travel pattern. Anthropic ran the SF, London, Tokyo, and DC sequence in 2025 and is following with additional cities in 2026.
The geography choice is itself a story. London for European enterprise. Tokyo for the kind of legitimacy that only comes from showing up in Asia’s most established tech and finance market. DC for policy and regulatory presence. Each city carries a specific part of the narrative to a specific audience.
AWS hosted official Code with Claude watch parties as satellite events. Most coverage treated this as a technical convenience. To us, it reads differently.
Look at it from a production standpoint: a major cloud hyperscaler is volunteering its physical and digital infrastructure to extend the reach of an Anthropic-branded event. AWS is Anthropic’s largest cloud distributor and a strategic investor with billions committed to the partnership. By hosting watch parties, AWS publicly performs that alliance – turning a developer event into a visible signal of institutional backing.
That’s the kind of credibility and distribution muscle most pre-IPO companies have to pay for. Anthropic has it built in.
Where OpenAI’s staging emphasizes scope and consumer reach, Anthropic’s emphasizes curatorial access, depth, and enterprise readiness. The cap-table signal differs accordingly. OpenAI seems to be telegraphing a story about scale, hardware, and platform breadth. Anthropic seems to be telegraphing a story about discipline, enterprise traction, and infrastructure partnerships. Both are legitimate pre-IPO postures. They simply imply different equity stories – and likely different institutional investor profiles when the filings eventually land.
To know what the AI labs are rehearsing, look at the recent IPO class. Four roadshows in particular produced distinct production case studies.
Reddit gave away 8% of its IPO to its users. 1.76 million shares allocated to 75,000 of its most active Redditors and moderators. Karma score decided who qualified. No lock-up period.
It was an unusual move and a deliberate one. Reddit’s equity story depended on community. A slide deck couldn’t tell that story; allocating real shares to real users could. Steve Huffman didn’t have to argue that Reddit had a unique relationship with its users. The directed share program was the argument.
The lesson: when your story depends on community, your investor day staging has to make the community visible, not just cite it in the deck. Reddit priced at $34 and opened at $47, a 38% first-day pop. The S-1 flagged real risk in the structure (no lock-up could amplify volatility, and some Redditors actively organized against the IPO), and the narrative architecture worked anyway. Users-as-shareholders is now an established roadshow technique that Uber, Airbnb, and Cava had used in lighter form.
CoreWeave downsized its IPO from $2.7 billion to $1.5 billion the day before launch. Institutional demand had softened. NVIDIA reportedly stepped in with a $250 million anchor purchase to get the deal across the line. CoreWeave priced at $40 on March 28, 2025, and the first day of trading closed flat.
The roadshow ran into a recognizable problem. The pitch was infrastructure-heavy and visually abstract: GPU capacity, liquid cooling, Kubernetes-native architecture, 250,000 GPUs across 32 data centers. All accurate. None of it tangible to a public-market investor who has never set foot in a data center.
The lesson: data center stories need physicality on stage. Slides and spreadsheets make “AI infrastructure” sound like a commodity. The tools that turn an abstract category into an investable thesis (data hall walkthroughs, rack density comparisons, heat-and-power math made visual) only work when the production team builds them in. CoreWeave eventually went on a 250%+ tear post-IPO once the market understood the story. The challenge wasn’t the company. It was the translation of the narrative – both visually and experientially.
Klaviyo was the first SaaS IPO in nearly two years. The market was frozen. Marketing automation isn’t a category that excites public-market investors. CEO Andrew Bialecki later called it an “IPO winter.”
So Klaviyo led with the founder. Bootstrapped origin. MIT-trained engineer. $100M strategic investment from Shopify. 119% net dollar retention. 51% YoY growth. GAAP profitability. Rule of 75 metrics. Bialecki himself became the narrative spine of the roadshow.
The lesson: when the product is unsexy, the founder narrative carries the staging, and that requires founder coaching, not slide design. Bialecki had to learn how to be the equity story in real time, in dozens of one-on-one institutional meetings, with no fireside chat to lean on. That’s a different production discipline than a celebrity CEO event. It’s intimate. It’s repetitive. It requires the founder to deliver the same emotional beats with freshness on the fortieth pitch. Klaviyo priced at $30, raised $576 million at a $9.2 billion valuation, and opened with a 23% first-day pop. The market recognized a credible operator, not just a magnetic personality.
In February 2026, Rippling aired a Super Bowl ad. Not because it was selling HR software to households. Because the company is making itself a household name before it asks public-market investors to recognize it.
Rippling hasn’t filed an S-1. CEO Parker Conrad has said publicly that an IPO isn’t imminent. Yet the production preparation is unmistakable. Rippling raised a $450 million Series G at a $16.8 billion valuation in May 2025. Annual revenue reached $570 million in February 2026, growing over 30% YoY with net revenue retention approaching 200%. The Super Bowl ad slot ran around $7 million.
Layer in the Deel lawsuit subplot. Rippling sued its largest competitor in March 2025 alleging corporate espionage; Deel countersued in April. The result is a roadshow narrative-in-waiting with built-in tension, competitive stakes, and a story arc the market is already following.
The lesson, even before the S-1 lands: the best roadshows aren’t built starting at the prospectus filing. They’re built years earlier, through brand investment, narrative seeding, and earned-media architecture. By the time Conrad walks into his first investor meeting, the story will already be partly told. Watch how the roadshow handles the Deel feud, whether it’s foregrounded as competitive moat or treated as backdrop noise. That choice will tell you everything about how Rippling has rehearsed its public-company identity.
Map the four cases onto OpenAI and Anthropic, and the patterns start to line up.
To us, the interesting observation isn’t that these labs will eventually IPO. It’s that the production preparation for that moment appears to be happening on the stages we’re already watching. DevDay and Code with Claude read as public dress rehearsals. The audience swap-out (developers in 2025, institutional investors in 202?) is mostly a matter of who’s in the room. The staging architecture is portable.
OpenAI’s ChatGPT has reached 800 million weekly active users (as Altman announced at DevDay 2025). The pre-IPO question is whether any of those users become shareholders. SpaceX just precedent-set the retail allocation question with its 30% retail target. DevDay’s Apps SDK announcement, which lets users chat directly with apps from Booking.com, Zillow, Target, Figma, and others, is the technical precondition for a community-visibility play at IPO. OpenAI is staging the infrastructure now.
Both labs face the data-center-economics problem. Both are spending tens of billions on compute. Both have the same risk: investors hearing “infrastructure” and pricing it as commodity capex. Sora Cinema was a small move in the opposite direction, making AI compute feel like a consumer experience rather than a balance-sheet item. Anthropic’s API-and-MCP focus at Code with Claude is the more enterprise-coded version of the same instinct. Whoever IPOs first will need a tangibility moment in their roadshow that CoreWeave didn’t quite execute.
Sam Altman is on stage all the time, but a roadshow is a different production challenge: dozens of intimate institutional meetings, repeated questions, no audience. Dario Amodei rarely takes that kind of stage. Both will need to develop the discipline of delivering the same narrative architecture, freshly, to room after room, for two weeks straight. That work happens long before the S-1.
This is where the AI labs appear most clearly to be rehearsing. The Sam Altman / Jony Ive partnership reads as brand seeding. Anthropic’s policy presence in Washington reads as brand seeding. Code with Claude’s multi-city expansion reads as brand seeding. None of it is sales activity. To our eye, much of it functions as roadshow preparation by other names.
The combined effect: the AI labs appear to be running all four production patterns at once, with bigger budgets and longer runway than any of their predecessors. By the time the S-1s eventually land, their production foundations will be deeper and more multi-dimensional than anything Reddit, CoreWeave, or Klaviyo had the runway to build.
If you’re a head of IR, head of corporate comms, or growth-stage CFO watching this rehearsal play out, here’s the framework outlined by these events:
Who’s in the room, and visibly in the room, is itself the equity story. The presence of an a16z partner on a developer stage doesn’t communicate the same thing as a developer relations engineer.
Every roadshow needs a single staged conversation that conveys narrative information no slide can. For OpenAI it’s Altman + Ive. For Reddit it was the moderator share program. For Klaviyo it was the founder’s bootstrapped credibility. Find yours.
If your story includes infrastructure, capacity, scale, or technical depth, design at least one production moment that translates the abstraction into an embodied experience. CoreWeave’s roadshow under-indexed on this. Sora Cinema was a low-stakes attempt to learn the lesson early.
Every speaker on your stage represents a category of validation: customer voices, partner voices, investor voices, civic voices. Choose the mix to match the equity story you’re telling, not just the agenda you’re filling.
Roadshows happen in conference rooms with twenty institutional investors at a time. The founder who’s brilliant on stage isn’t automatically brilliant in that room. Different muscle. Develop it years in advance.
Rippling’s Super Bowl ad. OpenAI’s Apps SDK partner announcements. Anthropic’s policy and developer presence. The roadshow doesn’t begin at the filing date. It begins the moment institutional investors first start hearing your name in unscripted contexts.
DevDay’s keynote streamed live. The Altman + Ive fireside didn’t, but went up on YouTube the same day. That sequencing is deliberate. Live serves urgency; on-demand serves reach. Design both.
When the AI labs eventually file, every staging choice they’re making now becomes part of the institutional case file investors use to evaluate them. The rehearsal is the record.
The bright line between “developer event” and “investor day” appears to be dissolving.
This isn’t unique to the AI sector. To us, it reads as an ongoing structural shift. Companies with consumer scale, enterprise depth, and platform ambition can’t run their pre-IPO communications through a single channel anymore. The audience for an IPO is now a constellation: institutional investors, retail allocations, developer ecosystems, enterprise buyers, regulators, partners, employee shareholders, and a financial press taking cues from social platforms. Every staged moment a company runs in the years before filing reaches some subset of all of them.
That makes production more strategic, not less. The companies that stage their developer events with the audience composition of an Investor Day in mind, that invest in their brand before the prospectus, and that coach their founders for both the keynote and the conference room, should have an enormous advantage over companies that wait until the S-1 to start thinking about narrative.
The rehearsal is the production. By the time the S-1 hits, the show is already running.
That’s the work worth investing in. It’s also the work Cardboard Spaceship builds for clients navigating the moments that matter.
The next generation of IPO roadshows won’t start at the S-1 filing. They’ll start years earlier, in the staged moments that quietly build institutional recognition. Whether you’re preparing for an Investor Day or the long lead-up to a future filing, the production decisions you’re making now will define how the market responds when the moment arrives. Let’s start a conversation →
Nine days from now, Greg Abel will walk onto a stage Warren Buffett owned for six decades.
It’s the Berkshire Hathaway 2026 annual meeting, and for 60 years, it’s unapologetically followed the same format. 40,000 people will file into the CHI Health Center in Omaha, Nebraska. They’ll take their seats in the same arena. They’ll hear CNBC’s Becky Quick introduce the Q&A session. They’ll see the Berkshire logo on the stage.
But this time, Buffett will be ten feet away. In the front row. Silent by his own public declaration.
The Berkshire Hathaway 2026 annual meeting would already be one of the most watched corporate events of the year on that fact alone. But something more interesting is already in motion. Abel has quietly restructured the format, and he hasn’t said a word yet.
For 60 years, this meeting had one production element worth analyzing: Warren Buffett in a chair for five hours. Everything else was deliberate absence. No slides. No teleprompter. No walk-on music. Just a microphone, a can of Cherry Coke, and the accumulated wisdom of the most successful investing career in history.
The anti-production was the production. The simplicity communicated respect for investor intelligence. The marathon length signaled nothing to hide. The solo performance said one person is accountable for everything. Those choices built the “Woodstock for Capitalists” – the only corporate event in the world that reliably draws 40,000 people to Omaha.
And Abel has redesigned all of it.
Two Q&A panels instead of one marathon. New voices on stage – Ajit Jain (insurance), Katie Farmer (BNSF), Adam Johnson (consumer products). The traditional open Q&A intact in spirit, restructured in execution.
That change isn’t cosmetic. It’s the succession narrative made physical. And it happened before Abel ever stepped up to the microphone.
The question is whether it works.
No CEO has ever inherited a corporate event this consequential. 40,000 shareholders. Global webcast in English and Mandarin. Buffett in the front row. A $380 billion cash position on the balance sheet.
When Buffett announced his retirement at last year’s meeting, the standing ovation lasted minutes. The question had already shifted from “when will Buffett step down?” to “what does Berkshire look like without him?”
May 2 is when the market gets its first real answer.
We’ve been in enough high-stakes investor rooms to know what’s at play. Here are five production and narrative challenges Abel’s team will need to navigate on May 2, and our predictions for how each one plays out.
This is the most loaded staging decision of the entire event.
Buffett sitting among the directors, visible but silent, is an extraordinarily powerful visual. It’s a living endorsement of the transition. It says: I trust this. I’m here. But it’s his turn now.
It also creates a gravitational pull the production team will need to manage carefully:
Our prediction: the webcast production will show Buffett briefly at the opening, then keep the focus firmly on the stage for the rest of the event.
The discipline is in resisting the reaction shot. Every time the camera cuts to Buffett instead of Abel, the narrative slides backward. The production team needs to treat the front row as context, not content.
There’s a subtler challenge too. Buffett’s physical presence in the room will hold an emotional weight no amount of production design can fully manage. Some shareholders will spend the entire meeting watching him, not the stage. That’s human nature, and the event can’t prevent it. But it can refuse to feed it.
The traditional Berkshire Hathaway annual meeting format was beautifully simple.
One person. One chair. Five hours.
Questions from the audience, answered in real time, with no filter and no limit. That simplicity wasn’t an accident. It was Berkshire’s brand made physical. Transparency. Directness. Trust.
Abel has restructured the format into two distinct Q&A panels:
The format change is, essentially, a narrative statement about where Berkshire’s value lives now. Buffett’s solo format said the value was in one chair – in one person’s judgment and ability to allocate capital. Abel’s panel format says something different. The value is in the operating leaders:
The quality of the people running the pieces, not just the person orchestrating the whole.
Our prediction: institutional investors will read this format change correctly; as a signal that Berkshire under Abel will be more operationally transparent, more team-driven, and less dependent on the mystique of a single decision-maker.
Some longtime retail shareholders may experience it as a loss. Both reactions are valid with a legacy of this magnitude.
There’s no polite way to say this: Warren Buffett was one of the great entertainers in corporate history.
His annual meeting performances were legendary not just for their financial insight, but for their warmth, their humor, their stories. He’d spend 10 minutes on a single question, reference a deal from 1967, make a joke about See’s Candies that somehow also explained capital allocation theory.
Abel won’t do that. And he shouldn’t try.
What Abel brings is different:
The production challenge is real. Forty thousand people in an arena that are accustomed to being entertained and educated simultaneously. Abel will educate, but education alone has to hold a room of that size for hours.
Our prediction: Abel’s answers will be tighter, more operational, less philosophical.
The Q&A sessions will feel shorter even if they run the same length, because the pacing will be steadier and the digressions fewer. Some attendees will call it “refreshing.” Others will call it “less fun.” Both are probably right.
The production team can help:
Berkshire is sitting on roughly $380 billion in cash and short-term investments. It’s the elephant in the room within every conversation about Abel’s leadership. And it will be the first hard question he faces on May 2.
Some version of “what are you going to do with the money?” will come early, probably from Becky Quick, who knows it’s the question on every shareholder’s mind. How Abel handles it will set the tone for his entire tenure.
The trap: over-promise.
Buffett spent decades preaching patience on capital allocation, and the market rewarded him for it. Abel needs to earn that same credibility, which means his first instinct on May 2 should be patience, not action.
Our prediction: Abel will acknowledge the cash position directly, reaffirm the discipline of waiting for the right opportunity at the right price, and resist the temptation to hint at anything specific.
The smartest answer is some version of “we have the capital to be decisive when the moment is right, and the discipline to wait until it is.” It’s not the answer that generates headlines. It’s the answer that builds trust.
This is the question nobody on stage will ask, but everyone in the room will be thinking about.
Forty thousand people came to Omaha because of Warren Buffett. The weekend around the meeting was built around his presence:
The “Woodstock for Capitalists” brand was inseparable from its headliner.
So what happens in 2027?
The 2026 meeting is the transition year. Attendance will likely hold. People want to see the first post-Buffett meeting, and many shareholders already have the trip booked.
But the real indicator isn’t 2026 attendance. It’s 2027.
If the numbers hold, the event has successfully become bigger than its founder. If they drop significantly, the market learns that the “Woodstock for Capitalists” was always more about the capitalist than the Woodstock.
Our prediction: Abel’s team knows this.
The format changes (multiple panelists, operational depth, visible bench strength) are designed for 2027 just as much as 2026. They’re building a format that doesn’t rely on one person’s magnetism to draw a crowd. Whether it works is the test that runs beyond May 2.
There’s a reason Buffett’s performances became legendary beyond the financial world.
He was one of the great entertainers in corporate history. His annual meeting set piece: spend 10 minutes on a single question, reference a deal from 1967, make a joke about See’s Candies that somehow also explained capital allocation theory. The audience stayed because he was teaching them something AND because he was fun to listen to.
Abel can’t replicate that. He also shouldn’t.
Buffett traded in folksy wisdom from the Oracle of Omaha. Abel trades in operational rigor – a CEO who has actually run the businesses he’s discussing. Different brand of credibility, not a diminished one.
The production team can amplify what Abel brings naturally:
Abel’s job on May 2 isn’t to answer any single question brilliantly. It’s to establish that the meeting still feels like Berkshire in his voice – honest, direct, unhurried – without requiring Buffett’s ghost in the room to make it work.
Katie Farmer runs BNSF Railway, one of the largest freight operators in North America and one of Berkshire’s most important businesses.
Most retail shareholders wouldn’t recognize her name. She’s never been a featured speaker at the annual meeting. In the Buffett era, she didn’t need to be.
Now she’s on stage. So is Adam Johnson from NetJets and consumer products. So is Ajit Jain from insurance.
The meeting does something it has never done before: puts operating leaders in front of the audience, answering real-time questions about what they actually run:
Shareholders spend every year reading about BNSF in the annual letter. Having Farmer field questions live is a different kind of signal – the business has a visible leader who can speak to operations at the level of detail institutional investors want.
Add Johnson and Jain to that picture, and the company presents itself as what it actually is: a collection of well-run businesses with deep bench strength, not a portfolio that only makes sense in one person’s head.
For any company navigating a leadership transition, there’s a production principle worth studying here. Don’t announce that you have great leaders. Put them on stage and let the audience see for themselves.
Berkshire’s 2026 meeting is the most visible example of a challenge every company eventually faces.
The founder steps back. The iconic CEO retires. The person who is the brand moves off the stage. And the event that was built around them has to keep working.
Here’s what we’d tell any company in that position.
Abel isn’t trying to be Buffett, and the format isn’t trying to recreate the solo marathon. The worst thing a successor can do is imitate the predecessor’s style.
The audience will spot it instantly, and it reads as insecurity, not continuity. Find the new leader’s authentic strengths and design the format around those.
Bringing operating leaders on stage communicates depth, reduces key-person risk perception, and gives the audience multiple points of connection with the company. If your event previously depended on one magnetic speaker, widening the stage is how you build a format that outlasts any individual.
The audience needs a moment to honor what came before. Then they need the event to move forward with confidence.
Lingering on the transition (spending too long on tributes, too many backward-looking references) signals that the company is more attached to its past than its future. A brief, genuine acknowledgment followed by decisive forward motion is the right balance.
Abel kept the Q&A. He didn’t add slides. He didn’t add video. He kept the thing that makes Berkshire’s meeting fundamentally different from every other shareholder meeting on Earth: the willingness to answer whatever shareholders want to ask, in real time, with no filter.
That format choice is the message. It says: we’re still Berkshire.
The 2026 meeting will get great attendance because of the transition itself. Everyone wants to see the first post-Buffett meeting.
The real test is Berkshire Hathaway 2027. Whether the format, the new voices, and the new identity can sustain the event on their own merit. Plan for the second year, not just the first.
On May 2, the most important signals won’t come from the stage.
They’ll come from the room:
And the question that hovers over all of it: does the room still feel like Berkshire?
That feeling (the sense of belonging to something, the connection between a company and its owners, the trust that what you’re hearing is the unvarnished truth) is what made the “Woodstock for Capitalists” something more than a shareholder meeting.
That quality was Buffett’s greatest production achievement. Not the jokes or the stories or the Cherry Coke.
The trust. The sense that this company respects you enough to sit in a chair and answer your questions for five hours.
Abel can’t inherit that trust. He has to earn it.
And May 2 is when the earning starts.
The format is set. The panels are announced. Becky Quick has the questions. Buffett has his seat in the front row. Forty thousand people have their tickets.
The rest is live.
We’ll be watching. For the production choices, the narrative architecture, and the moments that tell us whether the most iconic corporate event in history just found its second act.
Every analyst walks in with questions. The most effective events answer them before they’re asked, through narrative architecture, experiential production, and financial precision that earns the room’s conviction. Let’s start a conversation →
Somewhere in the next eight weeks, Elon Musk will walk into a room and ask investors for $75 billion.
Not a fundraising round. Not a tender offer. A full initial public offering targeting a valuation of up to $1.75 trillion, nearly triple the current IPO record set by Saudi Aramco in 2019. SpaceX filed its confidential S-1 with the SEC on April 1, 2026. The prospectus goes public in late May. The roadshow launches the week of June 8.
And on June 11, something happens that has never happened before in the history of capital markets: 1,500 retail investors will be invited to a dedicated event as part of the IPO process, with participants from the U.S., UK, EU, Australia, Canada, Japan, and South Korea.
This isn’t a standard roadshow with a retail twist. It’s a fundamentally different approach to SpaceX IPO roadshow design, one that splits the investor communication into two parallel tracks, asks two audiences with radically different needs to buy into the same story, and puts the world’s most unpredictable CEO at the center of the most financially sensitive week of his company’s 25-year history.
SpaceX generated roughly $15-16 billion in revenue in 2025, with Starlink alone contributing over $10 billion from more than 9 million subscribers worldwide.
The company merged with Musk’s AI venture xAI in February 2026. Morgan Stanley, Bank of America, Citigroup, JPMorgan, and Goldman Sachs are leading the deal, with 16 additional banks in supporting roles. According to reporting from multiple outlets, this single offering could exceed the total proceeds of all U.S. IPOs in 2024 and 2025 combined.
But here’s the thing. None of that guarantees the roadshow works.
We’ve produced enough high-stakes investor events to know. We’ve been in the rooms where CEOs make their pitch, where the production design either builds conviction or lets it slip away, where the difference between a good event and a great one lives in the details most people never notice. And looking at what SpaceX has announced, we see five production and narrative challenges that have never been solved at this scale.
Here’s what we’re watching — and what we think it’ll take to get each one right.
The week of June 8 will feature a traditional institutional roadshow with SpaceX executives and bankers pitching the offering to fund managers and institutional investors in private meetings. Three days later, on June 11, 1,500 retail investors will attend what the banking syndicate has described as a “major investor event.”
These are two fundamentally different productions.
The institutional roadshow is a controlled, small-room format. Twenty people around a conference table. Dense financial content. Detailed Q&A. The presentation is designed for sophisticated investors who’ve already read the S-1 and want to pressure-test the numbers. The tone is precision. The goal is analytical conviction.
The retail event is something else entirely. Fifteen hundred people don’t sit quietly through a slide deck. They need energy. They need vision. They need a reason to feel something about the company, not just a financial model. CFO Bret Johnsen has already signaled the intent: retail investors will represent “a bigger part than any IPO in history.”
Our prediction: the June 11 event will look and feel closer to an Apple keynote or an NVIDIA GTC than a traditional roadshow stop.
Production value will be high. Visual storytelling will carry more weight than financial tables. And the room will need to feel like the future, because 1,500 retail investors aren’t buying a DCF model. They’re buying a future they want to be part of.
The production challenge is keeping the narrative consistent across both formats while adapting the tone, pacing, and persuasion mechanics for each audience. Same story. Completely different rooms.
There’s no way around it: Elon Musk is simultaneously SpaceX’s greatest asset and its greatest production risk.
He’s the most famous CEO on the planet. His presence fills rooms and dominates headlines. For retail investors, he is the brand, the reason many of them want to own SpaceX shares in the first place. Removing him from the roadshow isn’t an option. Nor should it be.
But this is the most financially sensitive week in SpaceX’s history. Every word spoken during the roadshow is subject to SEC quiet period rules. Every unscripted comment carries headline risk. Every social media post gets parsed by regulators, reporters, and short sellers.
Our prediction: the production team will structure Musk’s participation carefully, probably in one of two ways:
Musk going fully unscripted for two hours in front of 1,500 retail investors during an active IPO process. The legal and regulatory exposure would be extraordinary. The production discipline here will be in giving Musk enough room to be magnetic without letting unscripted moments create problems that overshadow the offering.
And behind the scenes, CFO Bret Johnsen will likely carry the financial credibility. He’s already emerged as the pragmatic voice of the IPO process.
Our bet: The institutional roadshow features Johnsen as the primary financial presenter, with Musk in a more curated, vision-and-conviction role. The 125-analyst pre-briefing the day before the roadshow launches may feature Johnsen and other executives more prominently than Musk.
The calculus is clear. Musk brings the room to life. Johnsen brings the numbers to life. The roadshow needs both, in the right sequence, with the right boundaries.
This might be the single hardest narrative architecture problem in the entire roadshow.
SpaceX isn’t one company. It’s at least four:
Each of these has a different financial profile, a different time horizon, and a different type of investor who cares about it. Starlink is a recurring revenue growth story. Launch services is a margin-and-moat story. xAI is an AI-optionality story. Mars is a vision-and-mission story.
The roadshow has to weave all four into a single thesis that holds together. If the narrative fragments, if investors feel like they’re being asked to value four separate companies stapled together, the valuation argument weakens. Conglomerates get discounts. Platforms get premiums.
Our prediction: The team will anchor on a single connective phrase.
Something like “infrastructure for the next century” or “the platform that connects Earth and beyond.” Starlink carries the financial argument. Launch services carries the competitive moat argument. xAI becomes the intelligence layer that enhances both. And Mars becomes the vision closer – the aspirational endnote that makes people want to own a piece of the story.
That’s an architecture we’ve seen work in multi-business Investor Day presentations. The businesses that can be modeled go first. The businesses that require belief go last. Trust before imagination.
Here’s the uncomfortable truth about the June 11 event: nobody has done this before.
Retail investor events at IPOs typically involve a webcast, maybe a streamed presentation. They don’t involve flying 1,500 people to a venue and producing a live experience designed to generate buying conviction from an audience that doesn’t read prospectuses.
This event will need to accomplish several things simultaneously:
Our prediction: The production will borrow heavily from the tech keynote playbook.
High-quality video packages showing Starlink coverage expanding across the globe. Starship footage that puts you inside the experience. Live demos or visual presentations that make the technology tangible. Possibly a Starlink terminal in every attendee’s hands. The room needs to feel like you’re stepping into the company’s future, not sitting through its pitch.
And the post-event follow-through matters as much as the event itself. How does SpaceX convert 1,500 enthusiastic attendees into shareholders when the allocation process spans six countries and multiple regulatory frameworks? That’s a communications and logistics challenge that extends well beyond the room.
The day before the roadshow launches, approximately 125 financial analysts from the 21 banks on the deal will meet with SpaceX executives. This is the most under-discussed element of the entire process, and potentially the most consequential.
If those 125 analysts walk out of the room confident, they’ll pitch the IPO to their institutional clients with conviction. Their tone shapes the narrative for every subsequent institutional meeting. Their questions reveal what concerns are percolating in the market. Their body language in the first roadshow meetings tells fund managers whether the smart money is leaning in or holding back.
Our prediction: this session will be the most traditional, most financially dense element of the entire roadshow.
S-1 walkthrough. Revenue decomposition by business line. Margin trajectory modeling. xAI integration accounting. Risk factor discussion. Dual-class share structure explanation. Management credibility assessment.
It needs to feel like the most rigorous, most serious room in the process. Because it is. The contrast between this room and the June 11 retail event will be stark, and that contrast is the point. The two-track design only works if each track is optimized for its audience. The analyst room should feel like a boardroom. The retail room should feel like the future.
The narrative architecture of this roadshow will determine whether SpaceX gets valued as a platform or as a conglomerate. The difference could be hundreds of billions of dollars in market cap.
Here’s the core tension: Starlink is the financial story. It’s where the revenue is, where the margins are, where the subscriber growth is. Analysts can model it. Institutional investors can compare it to telecom and broadband peers. If SpaceX were just Starlink, the valuation conversation would be complex but tractable.
But SpaceX isn’t just Starlink. And the other businesses create both upside and confusion.
At $1.75 trillion, the valuation demands that institutional investors see SpaceX as infrastructure: a global broadband utility, a logistics backbone for orbit, a compute platform. Not as a speculative space exploration venture. We expect the word “infrastructure” to appear more than any other framing term in the S-1 and the roadshow materials.
The narrative needs to reposition “space company” as “infrastructure company that happens to operate in space.” That reframe is the difference between a utility multiple and a story stock multiple. And for a $75 billion raise, the team needs the utility multiple.
The S-1 will need to disclose xAI’s financials for the first time: Grok’s monetization, compute costs, capital expenditure commitments. Investors will want to know whether xAI is accretive or dilutive. Whether it strengthens the core businesses or just adds complexity.
Our prediction: the roadshow will frame xAI as the “intelligence layer” across the SpaceX ecosystem — AI-driven Starlink network optimization, autonomous flight systems, predictive maintenance for launch vehicles, and AI compute infrastructure in orbit. If the team can make xAI feel like an enabler of the core businesses rather than a separate bet, it adds to the story. If they can’t connect it, it becomes the section where institutional investors start shifting in their chairs.
Mars is the origin story. It’s why Musk founded SpaceX. It’s why many retail investors care about the company. But it’s also, from an institutional perspective, the part of the story that’s hardest to value and the easiest to dismiss.
The roadshow probably can’t avoid Mars entirely. But it also can’t lead with it.
Our prediction: Mars appears in the closing minutes, framed not as a near-term investment thesis but as the long-term vision that motivates the company’s engineering culture, its willingness to take risks, and its ability to attract world-class talent. It’s the “why” behind the company, not the “what” the market is buying. That distinction matters enormously in how institutional investors receive it.
The June 11 event is the one that will be studied for years.
If SpaceX pulls this off, with 1,500 retail investors leaving a room so convicted that they drive meaningful share purchases, in a format that complies with SEC requirements and generates positive media coverage, it becomes the template for every major IPO going forward. If it stumbles, it becomes a cautionary tale about the limits of retail participation in high-stakes capital formation.
The production stakes are that binary.
Here’s what we think the event needs to get right:
The retail audience is there because they believe in SpaceX. They follow the launches. They’ve watched Starship test flights. They might be Starlink subscribers. The event needs to honor that relationship before it asks for money. Start with the story of what SpaceX has built and why it matters. Let the financial case emerge from the mission, not the other way around.
Retail investors don’t think in revenue multiples. They think in experiences. Starlink’s 10 million subscribers becomes meaningful when you show the fishing village in Indonesia that got internet for the first time. The launch business becomes real when you show the cost curve that makes it all possible. The production should prioritize visual storytelling over slides and charts: maps, footage, real-world impact.
This is where the production discipline matters most. Musk needs to be present, engaged, and compelling. But the format should contain his participation within a designed arc – probably a moderated conversation or a keynote with a clear narrative structure. The goal is conviction, not controversy. Let him be the visionary. Don’t let the format invite the kind of unscripted tangent that becomes the next day’s headline.
The final moments of the event should make attendees feel like partners, not customers. “You’ve believed in this company for years. Now you can own a piece of it.” That emotional frame – investment as participation, not transaction – is what converts attendance into allocation.
Only 1,500 people will attend on June 11. Millions more will see the photos, clips, and posts that come out of it. Every production element – the staging, the visual design, the swag, the moments – should be designed to generate content that carries the narrative beyond the venue. The 1,500 attendees are the amplification channel. The event should give them something worth sharing.
This roadshow will set precedents that reshape how companies communicate with investors for years. Whether you’re planning an IPO, an Investor Day, or a shareholder meeting, three elements are worth tracking closely.
The institutional roadshow and the retail event are designed as parallel tracks serving the same equity story to different audiences. If both land, it proves that companies can design investor communication systems that serve multiple audiences without choosing between them. That has direct implications for Investor Days, earnings presentations, and any corporate event where the audience includes both institutional and retail shareholders.
The production discipline around a celebrity CEO during an active offering will be the most closely watched element of this roadshow. Every IR team with a high-profile CEO – and every production team that supports one – should study how SpaceX balances Musk’s magnetism with the guardrails required by the moment. The answer will reveal the state of the art in managing executive presentation risk at maximum stakes.
Rockets plus broadband plus AI plus Mars is a lot to ask any audience to absorb. Whether SpaceX finds the single connective thread – and whether the narrative architecture holds from the analyst pre-brief through the retail event – will determine whether the equity story feels like a platform or a conglomerate. The difference directly impacts valuation. Every company with multiple business lines can learn from how this plays out.
Even before anyone takes the stage, SpaceX’s IPO roadshow has already changed the conversation about how companies talk to investors.
The 30% retail allocation isn’t just a capital markets innovation. It’s a statement about who matters in the ownership structure of a public company. For decades, IPO design has prioritized institutional investors – the pension funds, hedge funds, and mutual funds that write the biggest checks. Retail investors got the leftovers, buying shares on the open market at whatever price the first day of trading produced.
SpaceX is inverting that hierarchy. And the June 11 event is the physical manifestation of that inversion – a produced experience designed specifically for individual investors, treated with the same production seriousness as the institutional roadshow.
If it works, every major IPO in the next five years will face a question they didn’t have to answer before: What are you doing for retail? How are you bringing individual investors into the process? What does your retail event look like?
That question will ripple beyond IPOs. Investor Days will need to consider retail audiences more deliberately. Earnings presentations will face pressure to be more accessible. The wall between “institutional communication” and “retail communication” will continue to erode.
For production teams, that convergence creates both a challenge and an opportunity.
The challenge: designing events that serve audiences with fundamentally different levels of financial sophistication.
The opportunity: the companies that figure this out first will build deeper, more loyal shareholder bases – and they’ll need production partners who understand how to build for both rooms at once.
That’s the production challenge SpaceX is about to face. It’s also the challenge we build for every day, from planning to playback.
We’ll be watching. And when the roadshow wraps, we’ll be back with what they got right – and what surprised us.
Every analyst walks in with questions. The most effective events answer them before they’re asked, through narrative architecture, experiential production, and financial precision that earns the room’s conviction. Let’s start a conversation →
