I’ve recently come to terms with the fact that I am a terrible influence on my friends.
Yes — in the shots at brunch kind of way.
But also in the “why are you still working that job?” kind of way.
Somewhere between tequila, iced coffee, and emotionally unsafe levels of honesty, I keep accidentally convincing the people I love to take their small business dreams seriously. And then — somehow — they start making money. Real money. And suddenly their “someday” has a calendar invite and a spreadsheet.
I don’t set out to ruin anyone’s career. I don’t walk into rooms telling people to torch their résumés and launch Etsy shops before dessert. But I do ask questions most people are afraid to sit with for more than thirty seconds. And once those questions start, they rarely stop.
The Corruption Begins
One of my favorite cautionary tales involves one of my closest friends. She’s been a vet tech for more than fifteen years. And if we’re being brutally honest, she’s hated it for at least 14.75 of those years. She went to private school. She still has student loans. She has a family. A mortgage. Responsibilities. All the things society loves to stack up in a neat pile and call “you can’t leave now.”
So she stayed.
She kept her head down. She did the responsible thing. She survived.
And then she started watching me.
She watched me build businesses from scratch. She watched me spend weekends hauling tents, racks, glitter, inventory, and pure chaos to fairs and festivals. She watched me come home dusty, exhausted, sunburned, and ridiculously satisfied. She watched me build something that was mine.
At first, it was curiosity. Then questions. Then late-night conversations. Then one small experiment. Then another.
Now we sit together talking about gross versus profit like we’re discussing the weather. We debate which festivals are worth the time and which ones drain the soul. We complain about capital investments wrecking our books on paper while secretly high-fiving because growth always looks ugly at first. We laugh about writing off our kids’ snacks as business expenses. We are each other’s loudest cheerleaders.
She just bought a trailer.
She’s building packages. Expanding her offerings. Positioning herself to replace her income. And she’s on track to walk away from her day job within the next two years.
Every time she has a record-breaking weekend, she looks at me like she’s discovered fire.
And every time, I feel deeply, wildly proud of corrupting her.
The Greatest Life Hack No One Is Talking About
Here’s what no one tells you: this doesn’t feel like hustle culture. It feels like a cheat code.
We are not sitting around thinking we’re business geniuses. We are amazed. Surprised. Giddy. Tickled. Two Midwestern moms who cannot believe this is our life. We’re not anywhere close to six figures in profit. But we have stories. We have experiences. We have freedom. We have inside jokes that only make sense when you’ve set up a booth at 5:00 a.m. in a muddy field and sold out by 2:00 p.m.
How many people do you know who actually own a business at our age? Let alone one that makes money. Let alone one that takes them to medieval festivals on the weekend.
It’s not glamorous. It’s not clean. It’s not predictable. But it is alive.
The Dream People Won’t Admit They’re Having
Most people already want to run away from their lives.
They just whisper it.
They’ll tell you they’re stressed. Burned out. Exhausted. Trapped. They’ll joke about starting over, doing something crazy, opening a coffee shop, quitting corporate, moving to the mountains, or finally writing the book.
Then they laugh.
Then Monday comes.
When I hear those whispers, I don’t let them go. I treat them like real information.
I start asking questions.
What would you actually do if you could change?
How would you make it your own?
What’s the margin in that industry?
How many customers would you need to replace your income?
How many expenses could you drop if your lifestyle wasn’t chained to your job?
And when you put the numbers on the table, something strange happens.
The fantasy stops floating.
It lands.
Suddenly, it looks suspiciously like a business model.
The Excuses Come Marching In
This is when people panic.
“But what about the mortgage?”
“What would my parents say?”
“My spouse would never go for it.”
(Usually while secretly admitting their spouse has the same daydreams.)
Most people aren’t terrible with money. They’re victims of lifestyle creep. They upgraded everything slowly and quietly until the life they built became the cage they’re terrified to leave. What started as golden handcuffs turned into golden shackles.
They’re keeping a job that makes their mother proud while it slowly eats their soul.
The Lie of Stability
Here’s the part no one likes to say out loud:
That “stable” job isn’t stable.
Companies downsize. Industries shift. Health fails. Families change. The illusion of security is just that — an illusion.
Self-employment is not easier. It is different.
It requires discipline, spreadsheets, uncomfortable conversations, ugly drafts, weird months, and deep faith in yourself. But it is not fantasy land. I still pay bills. I still buy groceries. I just get to do pickup and drop-off without guilt, shame, or time card fraud.
And that alone is priceless.
How the Brain Crack Happens
When someone is sitting across from me in that half-dreaming, half-panicking space, I don’t tell them to burn everything down.
I say:
What would it take to dip your toe in the water?
Can you try it part time?
Can you test it for under $100?
Can we build a simple business case?
What’s one baby step you can take today?
Because momentum doesn’t come from courage.
Courage comes from momentum.
The Slow, Beautiful Corruption
This is how it starts.
A small experiment.
A weekend sale.
A few customers.
A little confidence.
A better question.
A bolder step.
And then one day they’re buying a trailer and building packages and planning their exit.
That’s when I smile.
Because I didn’t ruin their life.
I helped them reclaim it.
The Final Truth
So yes.
I am a bad influence.
I will absolutely encourage you to question the job that makes you numb.
I will help you look at the math of your dreams.
I will normalize the fear.
I will celebrate your baby steps.
I will pour the shots at brunch while we plan your future.
And I am not sorry.
Because the world does not need more people quietly suffocating inside lives they never consciously chose.
It needs more people brave enough to build something better.