As part of a career journey that would end up looking more like Mr. Toad’s Wild Ride than Eat Pray Love, I was following the “safe” path working for a Fortune 100 company.
It checked all the boxes that I had been told many times an adult was supposed to check.
It made decent money.
It was “stable.”
Things were predictable.
In short, I hated it.
I spent my days staring at spreadsheets and in endless meetings with people who hated their jobs as much as I did.
Ideas and innovation were frowned upon.
So were questions of any kind.
Without fail, I’d get into an elevator every Friday and someone would say “Thank GOD it’s Friday!”
And someone else would reply with something along the lines of, “Too bad we have to come back on Monday.”
This applied to every job title from the executives on down.
I would silently listen and wonder if this was what most people resigned themselves to.
Meanwhile, I had a secret.
Before my years in corporate finance began, I had worked in mental health and started an ecommerce business on the side selling used dvds.
I quickly realized if I wrote snappier product descriptions with a little more personality, I could outsell my competitors and make a tidy profit.
I bounced along enjoying my side business ride when the wider adoption of Netflix and the Great Recession happened.
Suddenly my business was bleeding.
As I watched it sink, I was lucky enough to have a mentor who saw my penchant for systems and detecting patterns coupled with a background in psychology as an asset in the world of finance.
And so my “safe” career began.
But I couldn’t give up the entrepreneurial bug.
Using my spare time to learn everything I could about being an entrepreneur, I started multiple businesses and stumbled upon the wider discipline of digital marketing.
It was like behavioral psychology with money attached, both things I knew how to work with.
I was hooked.
By day, I slogged through my corporate job, trying not to be disheartened by the excruciatingly slow pace and general pessimism.
By night, I worked for clients in every industry I could find, testing my theories, honing my skills.
Once I gained enough knowledge and positive results, I started teaching what I knew.
But regardless of the success I was experiencing, I was afraid to leave the shelter of my “safe” job.
Deliverance came as it often does – in a form I never expected.