Embracing a Life Without Ambition

A Cherished Memory from Early Days

This morning, as I strolled with my dog, a vivid recollection surfaced from my mind, transporting me back to the time shortly after graduating from college when I first started working alongside my father at his box manufacturing facility.

One day, an unexpected visitor arrived—a salesman who rapped on our door. This was quite unusual because the factory was situated in a remote, rural location. Nevertheless, this persistent individual had tracked us down and was eager to deliver his sales presentation. He specialized in training salespeople, and although he didn’t explicitly mention saleswomen, it’s safe to assume that was part of his broader service in 1992.

My father, finding the situation entertaining, decided to involve me. ‘Meet J.D.,’ he announced with a grin. ‘He’s the one handling our sales. Why don’t you chat with him?’ The salesman then joined me in a dimly lit back room of the dilapidated trailer that functioned as our company headquarters. This was the same trailer where I had spent my childhood years, and let me assure you, it was in deplorable condition—far worse than any rundown place you might picture, truly a mess that left much to be desired.

The salesman, an older man clad in a brown corduroy suit, leaned in and asked, ‘Wouldn’t you like to boost your earnings significantly?’

‘Absolutely,’ I replied honestly. Even though my father had given me the job through family connections, my salary was modest at best: just $16,500 annually without any commission structure, which equates to roughly $35,500 when adjusted for today’s dollars in 2022.

‘Allow me to demonstrate exactly how I can transform your income,’ he continued, flashing a smile that seemed permanently affixed to his face. That perpetual grin is the detail that stands out most from our exchange—it was there constantly, even in moments of pause, like an unshakable expression of smug satisfaction.

For the following ten minutes, he elaborated on his training programs, weaving in subtle, leading questions to elicit my agreement at every turn. This was classic sales technique, building rapport and consensus step by step. Once he felt the groundwork was solid, he moved to his closing question with confidence.

‘So, when shall we get you enrolled in the training sessions?’ he inquired smoothly.

I let out a deep sigh, pausing for effect.

‘You can’t,’ I responded firmly. ‘I’m simply not interested.’ Before he could launch into his prepared counterarguments, I expanded on my stance. ‘I’m different from the typical salesperson. Ambition just isn’t part of my makeup,’ I explained. ‘Sure, I’d welcome higher earnings, but I have no desire to dominate the sales world or become some top achiever. Your training might suit others perfectly, but it doesn’t align with what I want for myself.’ With that, I politely escorted him out.

My father was visibly confused by my reaction. He had anticipated that I’d eagerly seize the opportunity to sharpen my sales abilities. After all, he embodied ambition more than anyone I’ve ever encountered. It perplexed him that I genuinely lacked that drive.

This absence of ambition wasn’t a recent development. It had been consistent throughout my life. In elementary school, I wasn’t driven by grand goals. The same held true during high school and even through my college years.

Academically, I performed strongly, earning solid grades and shining on standardized exams. I also thrived in various extracurricular pursuits, such as editing the literary magazines at both high school and university levels, and competing at a national scale in Future Business Leaders of America events. However, none of these accomplishments stemmed from a hunger for success or recognition. They arose naturally from genuine interest, deep passion, and internal motivation.

My successes weren’t fueled by a pursuit of accolades; they were the byproduct of immersing myself in activities I truly enjoyed.

Aversion to the Pursuit of Wealth

A few months back, I traveled to Orlando for Fincon, the prominent yearly gathering for financial bloggers, YouTubers, podcasters, and various influencers in the personal finance space. During one session, a handful of us assembled around an unoccupied conference table to brainstorm concepts and exchange updates on our recent endeavors.

This circle consisted of exceptional individuals who produce valuable content in personal finance and, crucially, who generate substantial incomes from their efforts. Being in their company always leaves me feeling somewhat like an outsider. They are wonderful people, no doubt, but their levels of ambition far exceed mine. These folks have already attained considerable success and wealth, yet they strive for even greater heights in both areas. Our talks invariably revolve around scaling up: attracting larger readerships, expanding viewer bases, securing more media exposure, and increasing revenue streams.

Inevitably, the discussion shifted to the current state of Get Rich Slowly. I shared my vision of evolving it into a comprehensive online encyclopedia for personal finance—a reliable hub offering practical, actionable advice free from hype and misinformation. I also disclosed that the site currently generates only about $500 monthly.

One friend remarked candidly, ‘I just don’t understand you, J.D. Why do you seem so resistant to monetizing effectively?’

I responded thoughtfully, ‘Let me explain. I came from a background of poverty, raised in a grimy trailer home. What I’ve built for myself now surpasses anything I ever imagined possible. I lack the intense drive that propels you all. Wealth and fame aren’t necessities for me. I admire your achievements immensely, but that path isn’t one I wish to follow.’

This statement reflects my authentic perspective.

Observing the world today, it’s evident that numerous societal issues trace back to unchecked ambition. I’m deliberately steering clear of terms like ‘greed,’ which suggest ill intent. In my view, few people are truly greedy; rather, they are ambitiously driven. By ambition, I refer to a self-centered focus accompanied by diminished empathy—a deliberate oversight of how one’s pursuits impact others, particularly those facing hardships.

For example, I could substantially increase revenue at Get Rich Slowly by promoting credit card offers. An ambitious person might pursue that avenue without hesitation. However, having endured the torment of credit card debt personally for years, I refuse to entice others into the same trap.

I recognize that credit cards are neutral instruments that can be wielded responsibly. I also acknowledge it’s not my responsibility to shield everyone from financial missteps. Still, the notion of endorsing them to an audience where some might misuse them and suffer dire consequences feels wrong. It’s akin to handing whiskey to someone struggling with alcoholism—not every visitor to the site fits that description, but enough do that I’d prefer not to offer the temptation.

Likewise, I resist covering the newest apps, websites, or services simply because they’re trending. I won’t chase viral stories with similar content in hopes of replicating past traffic spikes. Such strategies work well for others, but for me, they compromise my principles and feel like a betrayal of my values.

Operating Free from Ambitious Distractions

Fincon buzzes with energy. Engaging with creators who are dominating their fields—reaching millions monthly or earning millions annually—is inspiring and leaves me buzzing with ideas.

In previous years, I’d leave these events fired up to implement the growth tactics I’d absorbed: tactics designed to amplify traffic and profits. My affinity for quantifiable results and competitive nature has always made such strategies appealing, even if outright ambition evaded me.

Yet, this latest Fincon solidified my determination to step away from the conventional rat race entirely. bigness holds no allure for me. Maximum traffic isn’t a goal. I’m uninterested in funneling audiences toward monetization. I dislike such tactics when directed at me, so imposing them on others contradicts my ethos.

Moreover, 2022 has weighed heavily on my spirit, reshaping my outlook profoundly. Increasingly, I’m certain my online presence should prioritize three core elements.

• Primarily, transforming the extensive Get Rich Slowly archives into a definitive online resource for personal finance. This involves crafting authoritative, reliable articles on key topics, devoid of affiliate promotions and, ideally, partisan biases. The focus would be on proven strategies that genuinely enhance household finances.
• Secondly, amplifying personal narratives. This includes my own experiences—like the one detailed here—but also contributions from others. I firmly hold that narratives are the most effective learning tool. While theory has value, real-life accounts offer unparalleled insight. Stories connect us deeply, fostering unity, education, and mutual comprehension.
• Thirdly, nurturing a modest community of kindred spirits: those passionate about personal growth, financial stability, and aiding fellow humans in bettering their circumstances. Whether this group numbers five, five hundred, or five thousand matters less than its quality and shared purpose.

These are my aspirations, pursued without the haze of ambition clouding judgment.

As noted earlier, while I may shun ambition, competitiveness lingers. Without vigilance, I risk fixating on metrics like revenue or engagement, diverting from true priorities. Yet, such pursuits are illusory traps. Obsessing over figures undermines my life’s genuine objectives.

My true calling lies in storytelling and supporting others—ideally intertwining both. This demands diverging from industry norms in blogging, video content, and social media, carving a bespoke route forward.

Forging an Independent Trail

What lies at the end of this unique journey? I’m uncertain, and truthfully, it doesn’t concern me greatly.

It’s possible I’ll dedicate the coming decade to content creation for a niche audience of dozens, sustaining modest earnings around $500 monthly—for instance, the site brought in $486.60 last October. Realistically, income might drop to zero for stretches. My plan includes eliminating all advertising from the site by December’s close.

One certainty remains: I’ll tread a path of my own making, not one dictated by others’ blueprints. I’ve followed the crowded highway long enough, and it chafes—the constant push for higher views, clicks, and interactions feels suffocating.

Along this self-charted course, missteps are inevitable. I’ll encounter impasses, perhaps laboring months in misguided directions before course-correcting. That’s acceptable; those efforts aren’t futile.

To extend the trailblazing analogy, I’ve gripped my machete and stand poised to clear the brush. Officially, my sabbatical persists through year’s end, unchanged. During this respite, I’ll survey the landscape thoughtfully to pinpoint my starting point.

Translating this to concrete actions:

1. On my personal website, I’ll deploy the minimalist ‘de-design’ prototype I’ve developed. This may prompt occasional article publications there as testing grounds.
2. Upon confirming functionality, I’ll apply this aesthetic overhaul to Get Rich Slowly.
3. With visuals sorted, I’ll reorganize core site architecture. Temptation tugs to demolish and rebuild entirely, but peers dissuade me, deeming it unwise—and I concur.
4. Finally, with foundations set, I aim for consistent publishing rhythm. Though, true to my unambitious nature, even this might prove overly structured.

Even amid sabbatical, expect sporadic Get Rich Slowly posts from me. Notably, I intend to chronicle recent applications of exercises from Designing Your Life. Additionally, reflections on my mother’s passing beckon.

Returning to the path motif, your companionship delights me. Unsure of discoveries ahead, I relish the shared exploration over solitary trekking. Grab your gear; let’s venture forth together!

In closing, I’ve recently contributed to two insightful written Q&As. One delves into my financial independence journey, featured at The Fioneers under Money Doesn’t Magically Fix Our Problems. The other, a concise exchange on writing craft with Jacob of The Root of All, appears at the conclusion of his piece on Spending in the Time of COVID.