You can't eat your breakfast

It was 2017.

The first time it happened.

It had been 2 years since my wedding day. I was 24, working at a restaurant.

I had just quit my $12/hr pizza boy job where I worked 30 hours a week. I leveled up to a “real job” making $15/hr doing 40 hours a week.

I thought I was making progress for my wife and our future kids.

Finally, I’ll be able to provide. And have time for my family. Enough of that little kid job (I thought).

And then it happened

I had just switched from night shifts working as a line cook (deep fryer was my specialty. Still got some forearm oil burn scars to show for it).

So now I was doing mornings.

But they were SUPER early.

I had to be there before 7 am.

One of my first days doing the morning prep shift, I woke up late.

I barely made it in before 7.

Didn’t have time for breakfast before work.

So I raced to put my chef coat, black hat, and apron on. Whew, made it just in the knick of time.

My stomach grumbled. I tried to ignore it while I chopped up green onions and cilantro.

By the time I was slicing gyoza strips for the lettuce wraps, I couldn’t take it. I needed to eat.

So I grabbed my sandwich from home, crouched below the pass, and ate as fast as I could.

But, it wasn’t enough time.

The sous chef (we’ll call him “Harry”) walks by.

His eyes go wide, and he screams at me. Humiliates me in front of my co-workers.

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING? We have way too much work to do before the lunch rush starts! NO FOOD IN THE KITCHEN!”

My face went red.

Normally, I would cower down.

But this time, I fought back.

“Harry, I’m going to get everything done. I just need a quick bite, I never ate breakfast this morning and I feel faint.”

“I DON’T CARE! Get back to work!”

I felt a rage bellow up inside me.

“I’m starving. I’m taking 2 minutes to eat a sandwich. How is it fair that half the staff get to have 3 smoke breaks a day and take up 15 minutes of company time, but I can’t eat food, something humans actually need. Which is more important?”

He was rattled. He didn’t have an answer. So he stormed away

I was furious. I always worked hard. Always worked fast. Never screwed around on company time. Never got a lunch break (most restaurant workers don’t).

In this moment, I knew my days here were numbered.

But not just at the restaurant.

My days as an employee. Working a 9 to 5. Trapped in a corporate prison.

It brought me back to grade school. Being told when you can and can’t go to the bathroom. When you can get a drink.

Like farm animals.

One year later, I moved to a new city. New job. This one had promises of remote work. Being able to work from my laptop. Travel the world. Making $25/hr.

This was finally it.

Until it wasn’t…

Same scenario happened about 9 months in.

Forgot to eat breakfast, and was running behind. Still made it to work on time.

But I needed to eat. I had my breakfast while I worked at the desk.

Except this time I wasn’t met with an angry sous chef yelling in my face.

I was met with a passive aggressive email.

In fact, it was to me and my co-workers.

“Company time is company time. You can’t be eating breakfast at your desk in the morning.”

The boss worked remotely though. How did he know we had our breakfast at our desks that morning? It was just us there.

The cameras.

He was watching us through the cameras

That was it.

Nail in the coffin.

We’re out of here, I told Jenn (my wife), who was also working there at the time.

From that moment on, I knew this would be my last job I ever worked as an employee.

I started building my exit plan. Hunting down a viable business idea.

Then I saw these people online all talking about this freelance copywriting thing. Making six figures per year. Working from their laptops. Writing for a few hours a day. Working whenever they wanted, on their own schedule. Travelling when they wanted. Making their own rules. They were the boss.

That’s it, I’m in.

This is my way out.

And it was.

Just over one month after I started learning, I landed my first client online.

Within 3 months, I gave my boss my resignation letter.

6 months later, my wife and I hopped on a one-way flight to Sydney, Australia, from Vancouver, Canada. Each with a backpack, suitcase, and laptop in hand

We were finally free.

To wake up whenever we wanted.

Work whenever we wanted.

Live where we wanted.

Travel whenever we wanted.

Make as much money as we wanted.

And yes, eat breakfast whenever we wanted.

Here’s what I realized back in 2018 at my final job:

Nobody is going to force you to quit your job. Nobody is going to gift you your business. Nobody is going to use your evenings and weekends to find your freedom.

Only you can do that.

I had to go out and take my autonomy. My freedom. And the life I wanted for me and my family.

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Brandon “let me eat my breakfast” Storey

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