6 AM meant it was time to check voicemails. 11 PM meant it was time to check voicemails again. Every second in between reserved for hustling, fixing the thousand problems guaranteed to crop up that day.
That was my life as a Goldman Sachs VP, and despite what you might assume, I didn't hate it.
I didn't get there by accident. I'd worked that hard since my first job at KFC to get where I thought I should want to be, and by all accounts, I was crushing my goals.
Except they weren't my goals. Despite my success, despite the deep friendships I'd made at Goldman, I could never shake the sense that I was living someone else's idea of success.
At a certain point, it was time to leave.