The Decision

I walked away from the United States Secret Service and started a business.

Now, here’s what makes that decision interesting. I wasn’t chasing some enormous financial goal. I didn’t have dreams of building an empire or becoming a multimillionaire. I was chasing something that, at the time, felt a whole lot more important to me.

I wanted to own my time. I wanted to be a husband and eventually a father who was there for the moments that mattered. Not just the big moments everyone takes pictures of, but the ordinary Tuesday afternoons that nobody thinks much about until they’re gone. I didn’t want to spend my life building a successful career only to wake up one day and realize I’d missed the very life I was working so hard to provide.

And I had no idea whether I could actually pull it off. Starting a business meant walking away from a career I’d worked hard to build. There was no guarantee it would succeed. No guarantee I’d make enough money. And certainly no guarantee I’d ever have the kind of freedom I was imagining.

But I had something I hadn’t had before that airplane ride. I knew exactly what I was trying to build, and more importantly, I knew why.

So I made myself a promise. If this business ever became successful, I wasn’t going to allow it to take over my life. I wasn’t going to spend the next 20 years building something that kept me away from the people I loved.

I was going to build my business around my family, not my family around my business.

And that one decision changed the way I approached almost everything.

Twenty Years Later

Fast-forward 20 years. The business I started grew into a multimillion-dollar marketing company. I’ve been able to run it from my phone while traveling with my wife and our four young children. We’ve spent countless days boating, exploring new places, and making memories together. We’ve even split our time living in two different states, giving our family experiences I never could have imagined when I was sitting on that airplane.

But here’s the part of this story that matters most to me. I’ve been there. I’ve coached my sons’ baseball teams. I’ve picked them up from school. I’ve been there for the conversations, the struggles, the adventures, and the little moments that never make it onto a calendar. I’ve gotten to know each of my children in a way I once only hoped would be possible.

I wanted to be stitched so tightly into the fabric of their lives that my presence was something they never had to question.

And that’s what I built my life around. Now, I don’t want to paint some perfect picture here. I’ve made plenty of mistakes. I’ve had seasons where work pulled me in directions I didn’t want to go. I’ve gotten distracted, made bad decisions, and had to make some pretty uncomfortable changes along the way. But there’s a reason I’ve been able to recognize when things were getting off track and find my way back.

It goes all the way back to that airplane. To those nine areas of my life I started examining. And to three questions I discovered that still guide some of the biggest decisions I make today.

The Cost of Never Asking

Sometimes I wonder what would have happened if I’d never started asking those questions. I could have stayed in the Secret Service, continued building a respectable career, and eventually retired with a pension. And there’s nothing wrong with that path. But for me, I know there would have been a cost.

I picture myself sitting at work, looking down at my phone as another picture comes through from my wife. One of our boys hitting a baseball. Our daughter doing something hilarious. The family out enjoying a beautiful afternoon while I’m counting down the hours until I can get home.

And I wonder how many times I would have told myself, “One day, when things slow down, I’ll have more time.”

But what if they never did? What if I spent 20 years waiting for a life I could have started building today?

That’s the part that gets me. Because our children don’t wait for us to figure everything out. They just keep growing. And one day, the little boy who couldn’t wait for you to get home doesn’t need you to tuck him in anymore.

I think about that a lot.

Why I Share This

And it’s why I’ve become so passionate about sharing what happened to me.

Because I don’t believe my story is really about leaving the Secret Service or building a multimillion-dollar business. Those are just the outcomes. The real story is about what can happen when an ordinary person becomes curious enough to question the direction of their own life.

Most of us spend an enormous amount of time learning about the world around us. We study our careers, our industries, our competitors, and the people we admire. But how much time do we spend genuinely trying to understand ourselves?

Why we think the way we do. Why we keep making the same decisions. Why we tolerate things that make us unhappy. Why we chase goals we never stopped to question in the first place.

And what might happen if we finally did? That’s what I want people to experience when I speak. Not another motivational talk that makes you feel great for an hour and then fades away by Monday morning. I want people to leave looking at their lives differently. I want them questioning things they’ve accepted for years. I want them to recognize that some of the biggest obstacles standing between them and the life they want might not be what they think.

And I want to give them a practical way to do something about it. Because there’s a very specific reason my life took the direction it did. It wasn’t luck. It wasn’t simply working harder. And it certainly wasn’t because I had everything figured out.

It came from a process that started 20 years ago, thousands of feet above the Atlantic Ocean. A process built around nine areas of life and three questions that have shaped almost every major decision I’ve made since.

I share that process on stage because I know what it did for me. And I’ve often wondered how many other people are just one honest conversation with themselves away from changing the direction of their lives.

Twenty years ago, I got on an airplane as a Secret Service officer with a career and a future that seemed pretty well mapped out.

I had no idea that by the time I landed, I’d begun questioning the very life I thought I wanted.

And I certainly had no idea where those questions would eventually take me.

The greatest return on my curiosity wasn’t the millions of dollars I made. It was the thousands of moments with my family I didn’t miss.

And it all started with something most of us rarely take the time to do.

Getting curious about ourselves.