Between Money and Meaning
Some nights I lie awake wondering if I made a mistake.
I used to work for high performing tech companies. The salary was good — very good. Big bonuses and generous perks. I could buy what I wanted without thinking twice. Weekends meant nice restaurants, new gadgets, maybe even a quick overseas trip.
It was not just about money — it was about the comfort money brought. Bills were paid on time. My credit card balance was always cleared. I could help my family without feeling the pinch. It felt… secure.
But over time, the excitement I had when I first joined faded. I was just clocking in and clocking out. And somewhere deep down, I knew: if the company ever decided to “restructure,” I will be out in a day. The tech winter was real. No matter how much I earned, my future there was never really mine.
The Leap Into the Family Business
So I left.
When I told people I was joining the family business, most assumed it was a step up — “Ah, now you’ll be the boss.” What they did not see was the massive pay cut. The kind that makes you question your sanity.
Gone were the big bonuses and perks. My income dropped so much that it still shocks me when I see the numbers side by side. And the reality hit fast: lifestyle changes, cutting down on luxuries, watching every expenses. Some months, I’m juggling credit card payments. Once or twice, I had to take personal loans just to keep things moving.
It’s humbling, sometimes humiliating. Especially when you used to be the guy picking up the dinner bill without a second thought.
Why I Stay (For Now)
But here is the thing — the work (could) mean something now.
The industry my family is in is old-fashioned. Processes are manual, tech adoption is almost zero, and most players just stick to “how things have always been done.” I see gaps everywhere — places where tech, automation, and data could make things faster, smarter, and more competitive.
And I get to do something about it.
In the corporate world, if I had an idea, it went through layers of approval before dying in someone’s inbox. Here, if I want to test a new analytics tool or redesign a process, I just do it. No need to explain to five managers. I could see the impact from the changes I make.
It’s fulfilling to know that I’m helping to modernise something my family built from scratch. Every improvement feels like a step forward — not just for the business, but for the next generation who might take over after me.
The Waiting Game
But I would be lying if I said it is easy to stay optimistic all the time.
Right now, the results are not there yet. The changes I am pushing for take time, and the business does not transform overnight. Meanwhile, my bank account is not getting any healthier. Friends my age are buying properties, upgrading cars, building investments. I am trying to figure out how to cover next month’s expenses. It is like starting all over again.
Sometimes I wonder, Am I sacrificing too much now for a future that may never come?
It is a question I cannot fully answer.
Freedom vs. Fear
The flexibility here is priceless. I can set my own priorities, explore new strategies, and take the business in directions I believe in. I am not bound by the corporate red tapes and bureaucracy.
But freedom also comes with fear. In corporate life, even if I hated my job, the paycheck was steady. Here, my earnings depend on whether the business grows — and right now, growth feels like a slow, stubborn climb.
The potential is there. If my plans work, the payoff could be bigger than any corporate salary I have had. But potential does not pay the bills today.
The Honest Truth
If you asked me now, “Was it worth it?” — I would probably pause before answering.
Some days, the answer is yes. I am building something with my own hands, shaping a business that carries my company’s name. Expanding into territories that the company has not seen. I am learning skills I never touched in corporate life.
Other days, especially when I am staring at mounting bills, the answer feels less certain. I miss the security. I miss the luxury of not worrying about money.
But I also know this: if I walked away now, I would always wonder what if. What if the next idea was the one that turned things around? What if the sacrifices today really did lead to something better tomorrow?
For Now, I Keep Going
Right now, I am tired. I am financially stretched. I have doubts.
But I also have hope.
Hope that the systems I am building today will start showing results. Hope that the competitive edge I see will finally materialise. Hope that one day, I can enjoy both — the financial comfort I once had and the fulfilment I have now.
Until then, I will keep going. Because maybe, just maybe, the struggle will be worth it.
