It’s okay to quit, to find the game you truly want to play.

Fall 2015, I landed an entry level job in the Wealth Management Industry. I had not taken one finance or accounting class in college, however, having just returned from three years of expat stints abroad, I envisioned this as a temporary gig until I had enough money saved to move back. That’s the Liberal Arts major in me.

As a former Student-Athlete with college loans piling up, I jumped right in and adapted to my new competitive environment. The measurable goals, recognition and team-like structure reminded me of my time on the field, which helped me drink the KoolAid. I didn’t mind what I was learning; it was practical. However, I often caught myself dreaming of doing something bigger, better—with purpose and impact that stretched far beyond the bottom line of a corporation. My passion for helping other students take their creative leap and explore beyond familiar boundaries quickly got benched, as my new teammates relied on me more heavily on "the field".

My determination to advance led me to becoming the youngest manager in the Flagship Market, the largest office in the firm's history, coaching million-dollar producers who were nearly triple my age with length of service close to double. It was a challenge the "athlete" in me naturally embraced. I found success in this familiar landscape, earning a Vice President title, tripling my compensation. It all seemed like a dream, excelling on one of the most well-oiled teams in the firm, working in the heart of NYC overlooking Rockefeller Plaza, scoring an “Exceeds” rating; a dream that just didn’t quite belong to me.  

As days away from the office and corporate culture turned into months amidst the pandemic, thoughts and my sense of “self” began to grow stronger—thoughts that no title, dollar, or rating could suppress.  That is when I decided, it’s okay to quit so that I could play the game I wanted to play: helping other Student-Athletes identify and create their own purpose beyond performance.