One Share: How I Made 250% Gains on Figma's IPO — And Got Screwed Like Everyone Else on Robinhood
By Michael Kelman Portney
Today, I made $87 on the stock market. It was effortless. I didn’t do a discounted cash flow analysis. I didn’t comb through earnings reports or listen to a single investor call. All I had to do was open Robinhood, click a couple buttons, and ask nicely for a thousand dollars' worth of Figma stock before its IPO.
Robinhood gave me one share.
At $33.
That share hit $85. Then $90. Then $120.
And that’s where the outrage begins.
Welcome to Robinhood's IPO Participation Trophy
Robinhood calls this "IPO Access." Sounds revolutionary, right? Like the walls are coming down and the little guy finally gets a seat at the Wall Street table. But what it really means is this: if you stand in line long enough and don’t ask questions, they might let you hold the door while the insiders walk through.
That’s what happened with Figma’s IPO. I wasn’t the only one. Practically everyone I know on Robinhood who tried to buy into Figma got the same response: one share. If you asked for five? One share. Asked for 30? One share. Asked for a thousand dollars’ worth? One share. It’s like Robinhood set the whole thing up as a social experiment: how many people can we screw evenly while still calling it "access"?
Figma: The IPO That Wasn’t for You
Let’s start with the basics. Figma priced its IPO at $33 per share, raising about $1.2 billion by selling roughly 36.9 million shares ^1. On day one, it opened at $85 and closed at $115.50, peaking intraday at $124.63 ^2. That’s a gain of over 250% in a single trading day.
In other words: a bonanza. For somebody.
But not for most retail investors. The IPO was reportedly oversubscribed by 30 to 40 times ^3. That means demand outstripped supply by an order of magnitude. As a result, more than half of all retail orders got zero shares [^4]. You read that right: zero. The lucky ones got a single, lonely, ceremonial share. This wasn’t access. This was a participation trophy.
Meanwhile, venture capital firms like Sequoia Capital, which bought into Figma at around $1.10 per share back in 2018, were raking in returns of 3,000%+ [^5]. They weren’t praying to the Robinhood allocation gods for a single digit. They were unloading millions of shares in the IPO and still holding enough to build a new Silicon Valley compound.
Supply Starvation as a Trading Strategy
So how did the stock shoot up so fast? Easy: they starved the market. When platforms like Robinhood limit retail access to one share per person, it creates artificial scarcity. Everyone who wanted 10, 20, or 50 shares? They were forced to buy on the open market.
The result? A frenzy. Millions of dollars in dry powder chasing limited float. The stock shot up. Media headlines cheered. Underwriters popped champagne. And insiders? They cashed out while the music played.
Let’s be clear: this is not an accident. It’s not an unintended side effect. It’s a feature of the system. Robinhood may have marketed this as "IPO Access," but what it really delivered was IPO FOMO — a casino where the house controls the chip supply, and you’re lucky if you get to watch other people win.
Robinhood's Access Illusion
When Robinhood first rolled out its IPO Access program in 2021, it promised users they could buy into IPOs at the same price as institutional investors [^6]. Sounds great. Revolutionary, even. But there was a catch — several, actually:
Oversubscription: Even in smaller IPOs, Robinhood reported 5x oversubscription. With Figma, that hit 40x [^7]. Translation: the odds of getting what you requested were microscopic.
Random Allocation: Shares are handed out by lottery, not merit. It doesn’t matter how much you trade, how much you hold, or how long you’ve been on the platform. Roll the dice.
No-Flip Rule: Sell your IPO shares within 30 days, and Robinhood punishes you by banning you from future IPO Access offerings for 60 days [^8]. This means even if you catch a rocket, you can’t cash out without consequences.
These rules create a perverse structure: you get a tiny allocation (if any), you’re discouraged from selling if it spikes, and the people with real access? They can sell whenever they damn well please.
Rigged and Recurring
This isn’t unique to Figma. It’s happened before:
Airbnb: Opened 112% above its IPO price
DoorDash: Up 86% on day one
Reddit and Arm: Retail got hyped, insiders got paid
Each time, the story is the same. Platforms like Robinhood dangle access in front of retail investors, then hand them a crumb and call it a revolution. And when the price moons, the headlines say, "Retail Wins!" — but they don’t tell you that retail was chasing, not leading.
Retail IPOs Underperform (And That’s Not an Accident)
There’s academic research to back this up. IPOs that include heavy retail participation actually underperform by 20% compared to those that don’t [^9]. Why? Because companies only include retail when they need the hype or when institutional demand is lukewarm.
You’re not getting the hottest deals. You’re getting the ones that need help.
The Real Access Is Still Private
Let’s be real. The best returns are still locked in the private markets. Sequoia didn’t make 30x by clicking buttons on an app. They got access years ago. And if Adobe had succeeded in acquiring Figma in 2022 for $20 billion, none of this would have hit the public market at all [^10].
You wouldn’t even have had a chance at your one share.
Robinhood Isn't Robin Hood
The irony is suffocating. The company named after a folk hero who steals from the rich and gives to the poor has instead become a platform that sells the dream of access while handing you a receipt for watching someone else get rich.
Their business model is built on payment for order flow. Their IPO was a carefully orchestrated media event. Their marketing is a masterclass in aspirational manipulation. And now, their IPO Access program is just the latest version of it: a system that lets you pretend you're in the club, right up until the door slams shut.
I Made $87, and That’s the Problem
On paper, I made $87. That’s a 264% return. Feels good, right? But let’s do the math:
If I’d gotten the $1,000 in shares I asked for at $33, I’d be sitting on $3,600 today.
Instead, I got $87.
That’s a 97.6% reduction in profit because of how the game is rigged.
So yes, I made money today. But only because I accepted a rigged system, followed its rules, and got lucky enough to receive just enough to keep me from asking harder questions.
Final Thought: You Are the Exit Liquidity
This isn’t about sour grapes. It’s about recognizing a pattern. The modern financial system is filled with performance art designed to make you feel included while extracting your time, attention, and money.
Robinhood’s IPO Access isn’t access. It’s theater.
You’re not at the table. You’re the exit liquidity.
And you better clap when they toss you your single share.
