The Job I Didn’t Get

instead of feeling lost, I felt something else: clarity

A few weeks ago, I did something unexpected. I walked straight back toward the thing I swore I was done with: a full-time, in-office job in the city of New York.

Jil Sander smoking on a plane, 1997.

I had been in conversation with a smart, emotionally intelligent CEO friend about a brand and community role. He admired what I built at Lex, and we started exploring ways to work together. It felt like the exact kind of opportunity I had been trying to manifest—one that came from talking about my work, not cold-applying into the void, see below:

I was genuinely excited about the company, the product, the team, and the energy of the office. By the end, it was clear that the timing wasn’t aligned. The company was moving too fast for a full rebrand, and in the end, it wasn’t the right fit.

And yet, leading up to this, I had been on the fence. Wasn’t this exactly what I’d been running from? What is wrong with me? Attracted by the talent, product, and health insurance, I was willing to jump back into NYC office life. (I even made myself a work-look mood board inspired by the Jil Sander.)

Until I wasn’t.

Sitting with the No

By the end of my four-hour on-site interview, I knew it hadn’t gone as planned. For either of us. Those hours made it clear that neither side had fully thought through what this role would mean.

A no always stings, even when part of you saw it coming. There’s that moment when you wonder—was it me? Was it them? Was this a sign I should be trying harder to fit the mold?

But instead of feeling lost, I felt something else: clarity.

I loved being in the energy of a workspace, brainstorming, collaborating. It reminded me how much I enjoy working with people, especially young, ambitious teams. And yet—what happened to my dream of living in the country? My garden? My nature-filled life? I worked so hard to build something outside of the traditional career path… so why was I trying to go back?

The Realization

Yes, the opportunity intrigued me. But ultimately, it wasn’t the right time to be full-time.

And I wasn’t left empty-handed.

After talking to my positive-masculinity-tech-bro advisor Mike, he put it plainly: focus your energy here. Treat Work Unseen like your startup. Go all in on your own ideas.

And he’s right. I can. I am. I know how to build a brand, grow a community, and develop a strong strategy. I did it with Lex, and now I get to do it again—with all the knowledge I’ve accumulated since.

This isn’t a side project anymore. It’s the work.

I want to write an alternative or slow-growth playbook. A guide to getting your first 1,000 users. I want to advise startups on their process.

And for the first time, I feel like I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be.

Doors Closing = Eyes Open

That “no” wasn’t the end. It was a redirect.

Instead of scrambling for the next thing, I get to go all in on something I already believe in.

I feel so lucky to have Work Unseen—not just as a project, but as a foundation. No, I’m not making money from it yet, but I can see the path toward the wealth and security I want. The work I’ve planted here is growing, and I’m committed to expanding it, refining it, and making it something bigger.

So that “no” turned into a game ON. lol

I’m using this energy, space, and time to take Work Unseen to the next level. To get more people involved. To deepen the conversations we’re already having.

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The job didn’t work out. But I realized something bigger: I don’t need a safety net—I already have the thing I want to build. So here I am, choosing it fully.

Anyway, I’m seeing my astrologist next week, so I’ll let you know if this is actually meant for me in the stars.

What would you double down on if the backup plan disappeared?