In 2009, as my third child was about to make his grand entrance into the world, I found myself flipping open a book that would change my life forever: The Four Hour Workweek by Tim Ferriss.
I’d never really heard of the book before, but the palm trees on the cover caught my eye.
It seemed like a perfect escape while my wife was in the throes of contractions.
Little did I know, much like that tiny red and wrinkly head about to pop out, this book would forever alter the course of my life
Let Me Back Up a Bit …
At the time, I was 35 years old, working as a commissioned salesman, selling machinery to chemical companies. Before that, my only job was bagging groceries at a supermarket.
No college degree, no fancy resume—just me hustling to provide for my family.
I already had two kids, ages 5 and 2, and a wife at home who managed everything on the domestic front.
We had just bought a new house a few months earlier, but thanks to the housing crisis, we were still stuck with our old place, which we rented out at a loss.
Every penny of our savings was tied up in the new house. And there I was, sitting in a hospital room, holding a book with the title The 4-Hour Workweek. Yeah, right.
Within 1 day, my son was born.
Within 3 days, I had finished the book.
Within 7 days, I walked into work and handed in my notice.
For those of you that are keeping tally.
- No savings
- 3 kids
- A new house
- No degree
- No resume
- And now, no job
Shit. I can’t breathe.
A good place to start would be here
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