How I Got Here

Sit down, grab your favorite beverage — this one’s going to take a minute.

I grew up in a middle-income family in Washington State. Dad worked for the state, mom was a full-time mom. Typical Gen X kid — self-sufficient, always outside, always building something. One of my favorite places in the world was my grandmother’s basement in Federal Way, where my grandfather had his shop full of hand tools. I never met the man — he died the year I was born — but I spent a lot of time in that shop, and I like to think he would’ve been proud.

Fast forward to high school: auto shop, woodworking, anything where I could create something and step back and see what I’d done. That dopamine hit was real, even then. After graduation I joined the Army because, honestly, I had no idea what I wanted to do with my life. When I got out, I still didn’t know. Several jobs and a growing family later, a friend got me in the door with a premier custom home builder — and that’s where the path really started taking shape.

I loved it immediately. We were building one-of-a-kind homes all over the Pacific Northwest, and I could walk through a finished project and know my hands built that. My skills kept getting sharper, and I had the privilege of working alongside some really great old-school carpenters who subbed in from time to time. Don’t forget the people who help you on the way — that’s not just a saying, it’s something I learned firsthand.

That went on for about twelve years. Then life hit hard. In the span of two years I lost my sister, my grandmother, and my dad — and went through a divorce. Money was tight. I asked for a raise and got a small one, and I started to feel something I’d never felt on a job site before: like I was being undervalued. I had the knowledge. I had the skills. What I didn’t have was confidence — or enough money to go out on my own.

But then things shifted again, the way they always seem to when you least expect it. I met someone — my future wife — and not long after, a check showed up from the sale of the house I’d shared with my ex. My half. It sat there and I almost just spent it. Almost.

One evening I came home venting about work, and my future wife asked me something simple that stopped me cold: “What are you doing to get there?”

She was talking about the business I’d mentioned wanting someday. And in that moment I realized I’d spent twelve years building the exact skill set I needed — and I’d just been handed the seed money to launch. That was it. No more “someday.”

I spent the next few months getting licensed, bonded, and organized. Then came the hardest Friday of my working life: I walked up to my boss and told him I was investing in myself and it was time to move on. I offered to sub for him or go find my own work. He told me he’d let me know by Monday.

I sweated through my kid’s soccer game that Friday night. Then my phone rang. He told me to go find my own work — but he’d pay me through Monday. I had nothing lined up. Nothing.

Saturday morning I called an old contractor I’d worked with, and he pointed me to another custom home builder who was looking for someone with a specific skill set. Turned out all those years of hand-weaving shingle corners — a technique most guys don’t know anymore — was exactly what they were after. I called. He asked about it immediately. And just like that, Monday morning, I started my new life. Twice the pay. My own boss.

Then 2008 hit. The housing bubble burst and things got dark — but I survived. More than that, I redirected. I moved into custom cabinetry and furniture, and I’ve never looked back. I’m still doing it today and still loving every minute of it.

The biggest takeaway I can give you is this: when things look bleak, pay attention. It usually means a change is needed, and you’re being pointed toward where you’re actually supposed to be. I wouldn’t trade any of it. I’m grateful for every person who helped shape the path.

And every once in a while, I get a call from someone who lives in one of those custom homes I helped build years ago — and they want a piece of furniture to match. When that happens, I get to look back at where I started and appreciate exactly how I got here.