At
25, life got real for me. I got served the sort of challenge that
knocks you flat on your ass. It was yet another failed startup with my
childhood buddy: my brother. I’d had enough, and I wanted to take back
control. No longer could I live a life that wasn’t in line with my
purpose.
I
left all the money, significance, nightclubs, nice cars, and beautiful
women behind. I was in search of greener pastures. Unfortunately for me,
greener pastures meant temporary unemployment and a sinking feeling
that I wasn’t enough — when are we ever enough, right?
Things
quickly started to get real. I’m not the sort of person that can just
stand there and do nothing. I got in my BMW that I could no longer
afford, drove to the local park, and started making phone calls.
It’s
the only thing I can do in times of crisis that helps me figure stuff
out. The more calls I made, the more I felt that I wasn’t enough. If it
was a friend, they had no answers for me other than “Only you can work
this out.”
“Geez
thanks for nothing,” I would say to myself quietly. Then I would make
calls that I was hoping would lead to a new industry or a career I
hadn’t thought of. I’d continually get hit with “how much experience you
got mate?” When I told them I had none, the call ended quickly.
Out
of desperation, I did what any entrepreneur who has failed does, and I
started another business with a friend. He’d met this guy who was
supposedly married into the Chinese Government, and we thought our
little importing business was set. “We’re gonna be rich,” we’d say to
ourselves.
Within
three months the entire thing collapsed, and our friend turned out to
be a total liar and had about as much business skill as a child who’d
been at kindergarten for one year. He was a joke, and we felt like an
even bigger joke.
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