Facing a glut of fiber optic cable, telecom companies created fake revenue through "capacity swaps." They would trade identical broadband leases with competitors for large, identical sums of cash. The money was simply round-tripped, but each company booked the incoming cash as new revenue, masquerading the industry's collapse.
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Major tech companies are investing in their own customers, creating a self-reinforcing loop of capital that inflates demand and valuations. This dangerous practice mirrors the vendor financing tactics of the dot-com era (e.g., Nortel), which led to a systemic collapse when external capital eventually dried up.
A telecom financing company defrauded lenders including BlackRock's HPS of over $500 million by fabricating receivables from major carriers like T-Mobile. The entire scheme, involving forged contracts and spoofed emails, would have been exposed by a single phone call to verify the collateral, highlighting severe due diligence failures in the booming private credit market.
The dot-com era's accounting fraud wasn't one-sided. Professional investors and Wall Street created a symbiotic relationship with executives by demanding impossibly smooth, predictable quarterly earnings. This intense pressure incentivized widespread financial engineering and manipulation to meet unrealistic expectations.
Enron convinced regulators to let it use "mark-to-market" accounting for illiquid assets like pipelines. This allowed them to book highly subjective, projected profits from long-term deals as immediate earnings, creating a facade of profitability that had no basis in actual cash flow.
Digital "repack" platforms allow users who "open" a low-value digital card to immediately exchange it for credit at a 20% loss. This card then goes back into the pack pool to be sold again. This creates a high-velocity loop where the house profits from the same inventory repeatedly.
Auto parts company FBG funded its acquisition spree with a sophisticated fraud using "invoice factoring," a corporate version of a payday loan. By selling the same tranche of invoices to multiple private creditors, it illegitimately raised funds, leading to a collapse with $2.3 billion unaccounted for.
Beyond outright fraud, startups often misrepresent financial health in subtle ways. Common examples include classifying trial revenue as ARR or recognizing contracts that have "out for convenience" clauses. These gray-area distinctions can drastically inflate a company's perceived stability and mislead investors.
The memo flags deals where money is "round-tripped" between AI players—for example, a chipmaker investing in a startup that then uses the funds to buy its chips. This practice, reminiscent of the 1990s telecom bust, can create illusory profits and exaggerate progress, signaling that the market is overheating.
Large tech firms invest in AI startups who then agree to spend that money on the investor's services. This creates a "circular" flow of cash that boosts the startup's perceived revenue and the tech giant's AI-related sales, creating questionable accounting.
The AI infrastructure boom is a potential house of cards. A single dollar of end-user revenue paid to a company like OpenAI can become $8 of "seeming revenue" as it cascades through the value chain to Microsoft, CoreWeave, and NVIDIA, supporting an unsustainable $100 of equity market value.
