Dear Disgruntled Employee,

Every morning you drag yourself to work, already tired before the day begins. Your boss is always on your case. Your colleagues aren’t the easiest people to be around. You give your opinion, but it feels like it goes unheard. You keep a silent record of every slight, every moment they’ve dismissed or mistreated you, and you carry it home where your partner probably knows the full list too.

You tell yourself you’ll start your own business. You even promise yourself you will. But the fire only comes when something at work pushes you over the edge—or when your salary disappears within 48 hours of hitting your account. In that moment, you’re ready to quit. You picture freedom. You picture control. You picture yourself building something of your own.

But then things calm down. Your boss lightens up. A colleague makes peace. The storm passes and so does your motivation. You tell yourself, “Maybe I’ll wait a few more months before I resign.” And the cycle begins again.

You’ve been here for months. Maybe years. You have a good business idea—maybe even a brilliant one—but it only lives in your head. It has become your “happy place,” a fantasy you visit when the job feels unbearable. But you haven’t taken real steps to bring it into the world.

And so, the best years of your life are being auctioned off cheaply. Your energy, your creativity, your strength—traded for someone else’s vision. You are multiplying wealth, but not for yourself. You are digging gold that will never belong to you.

One day, you’ll retire with just enough to get by for a few months. The company you built for someone else will continue to thrive. Their children will inherit a legacy. Yours will inherit your struggle—and you’ll expect them to support you while they’re trying to build their own lives.

I don’t mean to offend you. I only mean to hold up a mirror. The truth is, you may not really want freedom as badly as you say you do. Maybe you’ve given up before even trying. Maybe you’ve been lying to yourself. Because if you really wanted out, you would’ve taken the first step by now.

So, let’s be honest. You love your job enough to stay. Your boss, your colleagues, your paycheck—they’re the best you’ve decided you’ll settle for. And until you prove otherwise with action, that’s the truth.

Sincerely,
Someone Who’s Been There

P.S. If you truly want to break the cycle, don’t wait for a grand moment. Take one small step this week—write a one-page plan, open that side-business bank account, register a name, or make your first sale. Freedom doesn’t start with quitting your job. It starts with proving to yourself that you can act.

Edit: I wrote this letter 7 years ago today (September 2025) and I realize that there is a lot more I have learnt about life, growth, career and business since then. I no longer encourage people to simply jump in to start their own businesses because it’s a trap on its own in some ways. Read more about my thoughts about it here: Entreprenuership is not self-employment  

Sometimes the best thing that can happen to your future is having your backup plan fail.

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I was rummaging through old files recently when I found an application letter I wrote on December 29th, 2008. It was for a marketing position at an NGO in Eswatini—a job I desperately wanted but never got.

Looking at that letter now, I realize it might be the most important rejection of my life.

The Desperation That Almost Derailed Everything

December 2008 was one of the darkest periods I’d ever experienced. I had just handed in my resignation from my first company, which I co-owned with two other directors. After irreconcilable differences tore us apart, I had to walk away from something I’d helped build.

I was frustrated, confused, and terrified about what came next. When I saw that NGO position advertised in the newspaper, it felt like a lifeline. I convinced myself it would provide the steady cash flow I needed while I figured out my next move. A safe harbor while I built something new on the side.

I crafted what I thought was a compelling application letter and waited for the call that would rescue me from uncertainty.

The call never came.

The Path I Almost Didn’t Take

Starting 2009 without any guarantees, I threw myself into the venture I’d been working on part-time—internet marketing. In Eswatini, this field barely existed. I was venturing into uncharted territory with no safety net, no steady income, and no guarantee of success.

I won’t lie: I was terrified. I had never done anything like this completely on my own, and I was essentially betting my future on something most people in our market didn’t even understand yet.

But nine years later, I can’t stop imagining how different my life would have been if that NGO had called me back. And I’m grateful they didn’t.

The Sliding Doors Moment

That rejection forced me onto a path that led to building Yati Group, discovering my capacity for strategic thinking, and ultimately creating something far more valuable than any salary could have provided. If I had gotten that job, I would have spent years building someone else’s dream while my own remained an unrealized side project.

The steady paycheck would have been seductive. The security would have been comfortable. And that comfort would have slowly killed the urgency that drove me to build something meaningful.

Instead of waking up each day knowing I controlled my destiny, I would have been trading time for money, passion for security, potential for predictability.

The Real Cost of Backup Plans

What I’ve learned since then is that backup plans often become primary plans by default. When you have a safety net, you don’t leap as far or fight as hard. When you have alternatives, you don’t commit as completely to the thing that could transform your life.

That job would have been my backup plan, but backup plans have a way of becoming the main plan when things get difficult. And building something meaningful is always difficult at the beginning.

If I had received that call, I probably would have taken the job “temporarily” while building my business on evenings and weekends. But evening energy and weekend hours are rarely enough to build something transformational. The job would have consumed my prime time and best thinking, leaving scraps for the dream that could have changed everything.

The Journey That Made It Worthwhile

Don’t misunderstand me—choosing the uncertain path wasn’t easy. Business has been brutal at times. I’ve experienced highs that felt like floating and lows that felt like falling straight into hell. This article right here will tell you the whole story about the lows

There were weeks when I went without a single payment, surviving on friends throwing me a few rands to tide me over. I have financial and emotional scars from those early years that remind me how close I came to failure multiple times.

But here’s what I discovered: there’s nothing like waking up knowing you own your time and control your destiny. When you’re building something that belongs to you, even the difficult days feel different. Even the failures teach you something valuable.

Money becomes important, but it stops being the primary motivation. Eventually, it becomes about the possibilities—what you could build, who you could impact, how far you could push the boundaries of what’s possible. Those possibilities keep you going even when the financial rewards aren’t immediate.

The Deception of “Safe” Choices

That NGO job felt like the safe choice in December 2008. Steady income, clear responsibilities, predictable career progression. But safety is often an illusion, especially in today’s rapidly changing economy.

How many “safe” jobs have disappeared due to technological disruption, organizational restructuring, or economic shifts? How many people who chose security over opportunity found themselves forced into uncertainty anyway, but without the skills and mindset that come from building something yourself?

The riskiest choice might actually be avoiding risk entirely. When you don’t develop the capability to create value independently, you become completely dependent on others to provide opportunities for you.

What Rejection Actually Teaches

That rejection taught me something invaluable: sometimes what feels like failure is actually redirection toward something better than you could have imagined.

If every door opened easily, we might walk through the wrong ones. If every opportunity materialized, we might settle for smaller dreams. If every backup plan worked out, we might never discover what we’re truly capable of achieving.

The rejection forced me to rely on my own capability rather than someone else’s validation. It pushed me to create opportunities rather than wait for them to be offered. It taught me that my future was my responsibility, not something to be handed to me by others.

The Calls Not Worth Receiving

Looking back, I realize there have been many calls throughout my journey that weren’t worth receiving:

The “opportunities” that would have distracted me from building Yati Group into something significant.

The partnerships that looked attractive but would have limited my growth potential.

The safe choices that would have provided comfort but prevented breakthrough.

The backup plans that would have become primary plans and kept me from discovering what I was really capable of building.

The Pattern of Productive Rejection

This experience taught me to look for patterns in the rejections and closed doors I experience. Often, what feels like rejection is actually protection from choices that would have limited my potential.

That job rejection protected me from spending my most creative and energetic years building someone else’s vision. Other rejections have protected me from partnerships that would have constrained my growth, opportunities that would have been distractions, and paths that would have led away from my real purpose.

The Question That Changes Everything

Now, when I face rejection or when anticipated opportunities don’t materialize, I ask myself a different question: “What if this rejection is protecting me from something that would prevent me from achieving something better?”

This doesn’t mean I don’t pursue opportunities or that I rationalize every failure as a blessing. But it does mean I’ve learned to trust that sometimes the path forward becomes clearer when certain paths are blocked.

For Those Waiting for Calls

If you’re waiting for a call that isn’t coming, for a door that isn’t opening, for an opportunity that isn’t materializing, consider this: maybe you’re not supposed to wait. Maybe you’re supposed to create your own opportunities.

That call you’re waiting for might represent someone else’s timeline, someone else’s vision, someone else’s definition of success. The opportunity you’re hoping for might actually be smaller than what you could build if you stopped waiting and started creating.

The Gratitude of Hindsight

Today, I’m grateful for every rejection that pushed me toward building something I truly own. I’m thankful for the doors that didn’t open because they forced me to create my own entrance. I appreciate the calls that never came because they prevented me from accepting less than what I was capable of achieving.

The job I desperately wanted in December 2008 would have given me a salary. The path I was forced to take instead gave me a life.

Sometimes the best thing that can happen to your future is having your backup plan fail. Because when there’s no safety net, you learn to fly.

Don’t stress about the call that isn’t coming through, the business deal that seems to be stalling, or the connection that promised to help but never follows through. You might just be better off without it.

The rejection that feels painful today might be the redirection that saves your tomorrow.