WHO AM I?

You can call me Keyser Söze.

One of my favourite movies is The Usual Suspects. In it, Roger “Verbal” Kint looks weak and harmless, but in the end, you discover he is actually the mysterious criminal mastermind Keyser Söze.

I am not a criminal mastermind. But by Canadian standards, I am a millionaire: a fact that would probably surprise some people who know me. I’m the son of immigrant parents who came to Canada in 1971. My story isn’t perfect, and my English isn’t perfect either. I’m just a regular guy who made plenty of mistakes, worked hard, got lucky a few times, and learned a lot along the way.

Growing Up & Early Hard Truths

I went to Catholic school and believed what I was taught: Work hard. Treat people with respect. Everyone is equal. If you put your mind to something, you can achieve it.

When I went to university, I learned life wasn’t that simple. I was the first in my family to attend, and I was getting poor marks without understanding why. Eventually, I realized my peers had older siblings who had already taken the courses. They had old exams and knew what to expect. I didn’t.

That taught me my first real lesson: Knowledge is power. People will use every advantage they have to get ahead. That’s just life.

After graduation, I couldn’t find a job. I told a buddy about an opportunity in suburban Ontario, suggesting we both apply. He got the interview and the job; I got nothing. Our marks were the same, but they liked his résumé better.

I let jealousy take over. I blamed him even though I was the one who shared the opportunity, and because of my bitterness, I lost a good friend. It was a hard pill to swallow, but I realized I was my own worst enemy.

For two years, I pumped gas while watching everyone else move forward, wondering if I just wasn’t good enough. One day, the frustration boiled over. I lost it and punched a wall in my parents’ garage, putting my fist straight through the drywall and into the brick behind it. My dad called the police.

When the cops arrived, they asked what I was doing.

“I can’t find a job,” I said.

They looked at me and replied, “And you think punching your parents’ garage is going to help you find one?”

I didn’t have a good answer. My dad declined to press charges, and luckily, that was the end of it. It wasn’t my finest moment, but I was angry, broke, and felt like my life was going nowhere.

Finding a Crack in the Concrete

Eventually, a family acquaintance helped me land an entry-level job during a recession. On my first day, the boss was away, and the staff had me shovelling snow, doing odd jobs, and asking me questions.

When my boss returned, he called me in. He asked why I was shovelling snow, why I’d shared my salary, and what I’d said about how I got hired. Then he asked:

“Are the people you work with your friends?”

“Yes,” I said.

“Do you eat bread with them?”

“No.”

“Then they are your co-workers.”

He taught me to learn workplace politics, understand who people are, and think before speaking. People may be friendly, but they are still competing with you. From that day on, I understood the workplace is a rat race. You have to watch your back.

Later, while working in an accounting department, a team of ten confident auditors from a major CPA firm came in. Watching them, I spiraled into self-doubt and depression. Why were they so smart? Why couldn’t I move forward?

My mother, worried sick, took me to the doctor. I broke down, telling him I couldn’t advance my career and felt like a complete failure. My mother cried, telling him I was a good person who worked hard.

The doctor looked at me and said something that changed my life: “It is not your time yet. If life were easy, everyone would do it.” Then he gave me a tactical piece of advice: “If you can’t get through the door, find a crack in the window. If there is no window, find a crack in the concrete.”

I decided to take control. I mailed out 3,000 résumés and got four interviews. Most companies told me to get lost, but a small Jewish accounting firm offered me a position at a $12,000 pay cut. I accepted immediately. I didn’t care about the money; I wanted the opportunity.

They gave me my real start. When I decided to pursue my professional accounting designation, I failed the exams badly. Unlike candidates at large firms whose employers paid for prep courses, I had to fund them myself. I was living with my parents, which spared me from rent, but I still had to cover my bills. I moved to a better-paying job, studied every night after work, gave up my weekends, and eventually passed.

At my graduation, only my mother came. My father was ill, and family dynamics were complicated, but she was there, beaming with pride. She believed in me when I didn’t believe in myself.

Taking Risks & Building a Life

With my designation in hand, I had to figure out what was next. Then I met my future wife.

She was always more confident than I was. While I worried about money and feared taking risks, she kept moving forward. We dated for a long time because I was terrified of marriage, mostly because I was secretly broke. I had lost between $100,000 and $150,000 through bad margin trades during the Nortel tech boom, a failed ATM investment, and margin calls on silver bars.

She knew about my financial train wreck, but she still wanted a life together. Eventually, she gave me an ultimatum: “Get married or I will walk.”

I bought an engagement ring with cash, looked at the situation, and said, “Fuck it. Let’s do it. If we end up in the poorhouse, we’ll go together.”

We got married and bought our first house for $570,000 (a place worth around $1.2 million today). When I proudly ran home to tell my parents, my dad just told me I was stupid for paying so much. My parents rarely praised my accomplishments, and I often felt like I was on my own, but I kept pushing.

I eventually landed a job in industry, which grew into my lifelong career. During those years, my wife and I raised two kids who are adults now, though I’m still waiting for them to get off the payroll!

Over time, my boss offered to sell the company to me and a partner. When my partner went through personal struggles, we had major disagreements and split up. I bought out his share. He was a good guy going through a hard time, and I still wish him the best.

To make it work, I worked 80-hour weeks. I left home at 5:00 a.m. and often didn’t return until 10:00 p.m. I worked Saturdays and Sundays. That was my life. Over time, I acquired rental properties, built an investment portfolio, and paid off our home.

Some might call it luck; others might say I worked my ass off. It was both. But the biggest lesson was this: When a window opens, you have to have the balls to go through it. Take calculated risks. Make sure you can put food on the table, but stop being terrified of the unknown.

What Freedom Really Means

Today, I’m at a point where I could retire, but I don’t want to. Work gives you a reason to get up, problems to solve, and people to talk to. I come to work now not because I have to, but because I want to.

I watch financial influencers online pitch complex strategies while making money off their viewers. My philosophy is simpler: build a portfolio you understand, accept market ups and downs, and don’t obsess over daily fluctuations. Nobody can predict tomorrow.

The goal isn’t to be the richest person in the room; it’s to have enough.

To me, financial security is a margin of safety.

Imagine walking into a grocery store in retirement. A watermelon that used to cost $5 now costs $10. You buy it anyway without a second thought, not because you’re drop-dead wealthy, but because an extra $5 doesn’t impact your life.

Real freedom isn’t private jets or massive mansions. Freedom is making decisions without worrying about every dollar. It’s knowing that if something goes wrong, you have the flexibility to handle it.

Passing It On

I’m sharing my story because I’m not selling anything: no courses, no investments, no coaching programs. I just believe young people need to learn the things school never teaches: how money works, how to navigate workplace politics, how to handle failure, and how to spot an opportunity.

Life isn’t fair. Some people start with better connections, wealthier parents, or better resources. Sitting around complaining won’t change that. If you can’t get through the door, look for the crack in the window.

If I could talk to my younger self, I’d tell him:

Don’t be so afraid. You’re better than you think you are. Stop comparing yourself to everyone else. Save your money, don’t take stupid risks, but when a real opportunity comes along, study the downside, make sure you can survive a loss, and take your shot.

I’m not Keyser Söze. I’m just a guy who started with very little, failed plenty of times, lost money, made embarrassing mistakes, worked his ass off, and got lucky.

Success isn’t about having the biggest house or the fastest car. It’s about having choices, enjoying your family, and sleeping well at night.

If you’re struggling right now, remember: your current situation is not your final destination. Your time just hasn’t come yet. Keep working, keep learning, and when that window opens, have the balls to step through it.