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Near the front door to the office, Lui and Lombardi have posted a DAYS TO LAUNCH! countdown and have promised their staff they will both get TheMan.com tattoos if the company meets its deadlines. Lui, a slicked-hair tornado of optimism and new-economy management techniques, is scarily aggressive when he's not overbearing. Roughly four minutes into every conversation, he uncaps a Magic Marker and starts scrawling on the nearest whiteboard. He has decorated the otherwise spartan office with motivational quotes from Steve Young, Jerry Garcia and Hannibal ("We must either find a way or make one"). The newest hire is affectionately referred to as the FNG (f______ new guy) and is forced to carry a Rugrats doll and order take-out Chinese food, the nightly company meal. "How do you indoctrinate people into your culture? You baptize them," Lui says. "We want everybody to drink out of the same vat of Kool-Aid." Before leaving on Fridays, employees have to rate themselves publicly, from one to four stars, on the week's performance. Lui says the foldout desks and below-average salaries keep his employees "hungry" for the eventual IPO. "We say, 'If you're willing to take a pay cut now so that your equity is worth more later, that's great.' If people don't jump at that, they don't fit." Lui, who keeps a case of caffeinated peppermints near his desk, ends meetings by barking "All right, dudes, let's rock and roll!" and has no shortage of self-assurance, already drawing analogies between TheMan.com and one of his former employers, the Walt Disney Co. "This could be a major, major public company," he says.
But right now TheMan.com is still just another e-commerce start-up trying to urge investors, corporate partners and new recruits to buy in. On one afternoon before the site launched, Lui set up a conference call with an executive from Starwood Hotels, hoping to persuade him to sell getaways through TheMan.com For the first 10 minutes, Lui refuses to "open the kimono" and reveal details about the company. He rattles off the names of TheMan.com's board members--from Lycos CEO Bob Davis to Eric Weider of Muscle & Fitness magazine--to gain more credibility. "You're a smart guy, you worked at Disney, you went to Stanford business school. I believe you," the executive says. But when he suggests waiting six months before cementing a partnership, Lui's kimono winds up in a crumpled ball, as he gives away the entire business plan. Even so, the Starwood exec wraps up the call. Lui slumps a little. "I understand that right now we're a zit compared to everybody else," he says. "But in a year, we're not going to be a zit."
It's impossible to suppress Lui's bravado. While several employees romp through the office trailing Sugerman's dog, Lui spends Friday afternoon cajoling Erin Kelley, a 28-year-old accountant, to join the company as a financial manager. "Where are you right now?" he asks. Kelley says the hours at her current job allow her to play soccer every night; working 80 hours a week would probably put an end to that. "How long is a soccer game?" Lui asks. "Forty-five minutes," Kelley says. "Well," Lui declares, "you can come back here afterwards."