The Late Start — Issue #2

Last week I told you I'd stopped caring. This week I'll tell you what I did about it.

The project leader who kicked me off that last assignment decided to share his opinion of me with anyone who would listen. I wasn't a good project manager, apparently. People who didn't actually know me believed it, and the next project I landed on came with a reputation I hadn't earned.

Here's the thing though, I still knew how to do the job. Even on autopilot, even completely checked out, I was good at it. The new project leader figured that out pretty quickly.

"So-and-so told me you weren't any good," he said one day. "But you really are very good."

Same work. Totally different perspectives. The vindication felt nice for about thirty seconds. Then I remembered I didn't care anymore. It was suddenly hard to feel triumphant about excelling at something you've already mentally quit.

That's when the early retirement notification hit my inbox.

I called my boss right away and asked for the first ticket out. I was walking away with a year's salary in my pocket, headed somewhere new. A fresh start, a new company. Maybe that's all I needed, a change of scenery to reinvigorate me.

I signed my exit papers. My last day was slotted for March 2020.

If you haven't already figured out where this is going, think back to what you were doing in March 2020.

That's right. The bottom was about to fall out.

COVID hit. The job market didn't slow down, it stopped. Completely. But nobody really believed it at first. Everyone I knew called it a temporary blip. I took it as an opportunity to polish the resume, apply to the best companies, and wait for the offers to come flooding in.

Weeks turned into months. Nothing.

That year's salary was getting smaller every month. Panic started setting in; quietly at first, then not so quietly.

My former employer had included career counseling in the exit package, so I took advantage of it. My career coach identified something pretty quickly: I was burnt the hell out. Not tired. Not frustrated. Burnt. Out.

We explored everything; new career paths, more schooling, a completely different trade, self-employment. I took classes, attended webinars, sat through learning sessions. All of it felt like wasted time.

Until I found myself in a session hosted by a franchise broker.

The sales pitch was something else. For the first time in years, I felt genuinely excited about work. You can be your own boss. Build something you actually believe in. The operations are already laid out — all you have to do is follow the playbook.

It sounded almost too good to be true.

(Spoiler: it was.)

I went to a few discovery days. They call it a "discovery day”, but what you really discover is that these people are very, very good at separating you from your money while making you feel great about it.

I eventually agreed to purchase a multi-unit franchise opportunity.

Yoga studios.

Do I do yoga? No. Did I know anything about yoga? No. Did I even know anyone who did yoga? Also no.  At the time, buying a multi-unit yoga franchise seemed perfectly logical. Never mind that I'd never taken a yoga class, knew absolutely nothing about the industry, and had the mental tranquility of a raccoon trapped in a dumpster. Other than those minor details, I was clearly the ideal candidate.

I signed the papers anyway and handed over a huge chunk of that year's pay.

Dave Otani, yoga studio franchisee.

Let that sink in for a second.

Next week I'll tell you exactly how that went.

Spoiler: I don't own any yoga studios.

It's not too late. Let's move.

— Dave Otani

The Late Start publishes weekly. Subscribe at daveotani.com