I Quit My Last Day Job in 2015. Here’s What I Wish I’d Known Then.
Or: I love being self-employed, but . . .
One thing about me is that I really hate having a job.
Not working. It’s just the circumstance of having a job that requires me to work for someone else that I dislike. I always have. I don’t mind learning a new job, but as soon as I’m competent, I want to quit.
Having a job makes me itchy. I’ve had some pretty cool ones. I was a teacher. I was a social worker. But — same story every time. As soon as I’m past that honeymoon period where everything is new, I start to deeply resent everything about it.
An entrepreneurial spirit was bred into me, I think.
I was raised by a serial entrepreneur.
When I was ten years old, I started going to events with my dad where he sold collectibles. Everyone there sold collectibles in big glass cases.
And fourth-grade me showed up with a roll of paper towels and a bottle of Windex. I wandered around the events for hours, offering to clean the cases for a dollar. And at lunch time, offering to make a concession-stand run for dealers who were manning their booths alone.
