The football coach saw the headlines and made the connection instantly. How could he not? The same phrase being splashed across the front pages of newspapers across the nation had once been applied to him (Brad Childress), his team (the Vikings) and the NFL.
This phrase marked an odd and unexpected connection between a gridiron lifer and Elon Musk, the billionaire entrepreneur, SpaceX founder and Tesla czar. In April, Musk announced his intention to buy Twitter, the social media platform that at first resisted his $43 billion–$44 billion offer. Shortly after, the company deployed an unusual technique, one of few available defenses, by announcing it planned to invoke what’s called a “poison pill” to disincentivize Musk’s pursuit. The phrase stopped Childress, made him chuckle and transported him back 16 years.
In the case of Musk’s bid and Twitter’s early attempts to thwart it, this particular poison pill was more formally labeled a “shareholder rights plan” that’s sometimes designed by corporate boards to guard against losing control to outside interests. If the sale moved forward, Twitter could increase the total shares of its stock. If Musk managed to secure more than 15% of the shares outstanding, other stakeholders would be able to buy more of their own at a steep discount, decreasing the percentage of his stake, or, more ideally, elevating the price tag to a prohibitive perch.
