It was a Friday, two years ago last week. On the other end of the phone was the founder of a startup that had moved his new company to Silicon Valley. This was the second time he had offered me an executive position in as many weeks—chief marketing officer.
I was in the process of declining the job offer again, when he interjected, “I’m not shitting you. You’re looking at probably three to five million a year within a couple years.”
He was talking about the amount of my projected annual salary for developing the brand and building an in-house ad agency for about 1,200 sales reps around the country.
He asked me to take some time to think about his offer, to talk to my wife, and then to get back to him. What he was really asking, though, was for me to consider closing Biplane Productions.
I did close my office—an hour or two early that afternoon. I emailed three of my inner circle of dude friends, asking for prayer. I messaged my cousin, who is connected to the venture capital scene in that tech Mecca; and I asked him what he knew of this company and its financial backers. Then I took Crystal out to one of our favorite restaurants and told her about the offer.
We jumped back and forth between the pro’s and con’s of the offer. There was really only one pro, and that was only if the numbers proved to be true. That said, it was a big pro—especially right after I had been handed a bill for the $50,000 my home builder had surpassed our contract price.
My wife let me daydream a bit about the potential of that kind of income. She then told me that she didn’t want to move but that she’d support and follow me, regardless of my decision. She invited some dear friends over to the house, where we prayed for wisdom and discernment, peace and contentment.
When we lifted our heads and opened our eyes, I knew my answer.
I never looked back with an ounce of regret. Still don’t—especially now that I know those projections were grossly exaggerated (and that my last consulting invoice has gone more than a year outstanding).
Believe it or not, the decision wasn’t that difficult for me. I love where we live. [My defense of that love is far and away the most read post on this blog to date.] I love my lifestyle, my circle of friends, my church.
I didn’t love startup life, even the comparative simplicity of starting a freelance business. We didn’t get a week’s vacation the first three years of Biplane Productions’ existence. I’m thankful those double shifts are fewer and farther between now and that I really don’t work many eight-hour days anymore.
You know what was hard, though? Having someone tell you that you’re worth three to five million bucks a year—that you’re the foremost thinker in your specialization, that you’re the epitome of what someone’s looking for in a CMO position.
Why that was hard?
Because that next Monday I was making a lot less than the teased $12,000-$19,000 per day for people who didn’t know I’d been offered something different. Don’t get me wrong: I’m talking about good people and wonderful clients who usually respect my opinion and accomplishments. But I’ve never made that much in a week let alone every weekday for a year. I wanted my friends to know that I had chosen them and my time with them over a seven-figure salary. I wanted my wife to treat me like a millionaire. I even wanted to let people know that I turned it down—that I was the kind of guy who could.
It took me a while for all of that to fade back to my normal levels of entitlement and insecurity. It took me realizing that I have a good gig. It took moments where my friendships were worth more than money, where freedom didn’t have a price tag. It took experiences that seemed to have mystically dropped me into the right place at the right time.
I don’t think of myself as a multimillionaire anymore, and I don’t need you to be impressed—especially not with a sales pitch that proved either deceitful or comically off target.
What you need to know is that the promise of the Bible is true. Jesus’ half-brother James wrote in the fifth verse of his book: “If any of you lacks wisdom, let him ask God, who gives generously to all without reproach, and it will be given him.”
I don’t always get answers that clear or that quickly. When I do, I think the owner of the universe deserves the credit for it.
