Leaving finance and embarking on startups
Wrapping up life in finance, moving to California, and embarking on a new adventure
Last Friday, I gave my two-weeks notice at the private equity firm that I've worked at since 2012. With the departure also comes some other major changes in my life: I’m moving out of New York, settling down in California, and building a new startup along with expanding my current government application @hitchhikerlabs.
While incredibly excited for ‘the beginning’, I have also gone through a range of emotional experiences in the past week resulting from these life changes. Writing has been therapeutic for me, so I’d like to share those feelings with you.
Graduation Goggles
In the days before giving notice, I started questioning my decision: Was I truly unsatisfied with private equity? Is it that unbearable to do work you’re not passionate about? Is the freedom of entrepreneurship worth the risk of losing steady income and failing? I knew my answers — but couldn't help shake the feeling that things weren't that bad. In fact, the closer I got to resignation date, the more I questioned my answers.
I had graduation goggles. For the uninitiated, graduation goggles are what you get near the end of a major chapter in life(high school, first job, long-term relationships), when you forget all of the bad memories and remember only the good, fondly remembering the past through rosy-tinted goggles. It’s an inherent part of being human, borne from our instincts to survive and avoid the risk that comes from change. Leaving a secure, steady job for whatever reason to start a new business or explore an unknown path is terrifying, and it’s much safer to stay put or wait for a natural end.
There’s no wisdom in the experience. I’m just hoping the feeling will go away. Even as I sit now, having committed to leaving and in the process of transitioning out of my job, I’m wearing the graduation goggles — hoping that I made the right decision.
Having the Conversation
The hour before going into my managing director’s office was a roller-coaster of emotions. My heart was racing, I was sweating, and I wasn't confident at all that I would have the courage to go through with it. So I stepped out of the office, trekked to a coffee shop, and returned 30 minutes later feeling no better (although admittedly more awake). Another 10 minutes of sitting at my desk along with an internal pep talk yielded a momentary burst of courage, which quickly died as I got to my MD’s floor. What am I doing? I started questioning whether I had to do it today. Maybe another coffee will help. I stepped into the kitchen, but then decided against additional stimulant.
Once in the kitchen, I started pacing back and forth mulling my decision and summoning my courage.
Slowly. Very Slowly.
Another 10 minutes go by, and I knew my window was closing having looked at his calendar in advance. You need to do this today.
A lot of thoughts flew through my head during this time. I thought about how easy these moments seem on television or when other people talk about them. How you never imagine that it would be you in that situation. But mostly, I thought about how life is determined by these hard decisions, and that courage isn't about not feeling fear, but rather pressing on in spite of fear.
So I walked in and said “Hey, do you have a minute?”
Telling My Parents
My parents have always been supportive of my career and life decisions, something that I didn't appreciate until I graduated college. Earlier in life, when I wanted to be an actor, they said in full support and honesty “Andrew, if you want to be an actor, we won’t stop you. But just so you know, don’t think you’re very good…”. That being said, all my life decisions after high school have been fairly low risk: undergrad business school, management consulting, private equity — even living in NYC, where I’m a 2-hour bus ride from home.
So when I visited home and told them I was considering leaving private equity to work on startups full time, I wasn't quite sure what their reaction would be. My concern was quickly dismissed: my parents both told me that if my heart was truly in it, go full speed and do it well. On the night before I left, my mom came to my room and handed me a check.
“Here. You’ll need to get good health insurance now that you’re starting your own company. Make sure you protect your health — it’s the most important thing.”
My parents have never been very emotional with me. We’re not that kind of household, and it’s not in our culture to express love the way western cultures do. But hugging my mom at that moment, I knew I had the love and full support of my parents — and that I’d work hard to make them proud.
I don’t plan on ever cashing that check. It sits in a picture frame on my desk, as a constant reminder of what’s important in life.
If you enjoyed this read, I’d love for you to ‘Recommend’ this piece so that others can enjoy it as well. If you’d like to talk to me about venturing into the unknown, tweet me at @andrewjiang.
