Betting Everything on Myself
After Berkeley I went straight into investment banking in London. Prestige, power, the adrenaline of 100-hour weeks — it looked like success.
But the longer I stayed, the louder the question became: is this really it?
So I left and opened a restaurant. I traded boardrooms for basements, Armani suits for aprons. Three years later, I closed it, broke and exhausted.
Later I thrived in venture capital, working with founders and shaping strategy — until COVID collapsed our fund.
I have lived both privilege and loss, both skyscrapers and broken kitchens, both the applause of success and the silence of failure.
After Berkeley, I entered investment banking in London — prestige, power, 100-hour weeks. It looked like success, but the question grew louder: is this really it?
I left to open a restaurant, trading boardrooms for basements, only to close it three years later, broke and exhausted.
Later I thrived in venture capital — until COVID collapsed our fund. I’ve known both privilege and loss, applause and silence.
Success without purpose is a prison, and failure is often the better teacher.
