Success in business doesn’t happen by accident. It’s not luck. It’s not handed to you. It’s built by people who are smart, driven, motivated—and often, kind enough to share what they’ve learned so others can win too.
That’s why I’m writing this.
I want to tell my story—not just the wins, but the struggles, the mistakes, and the lessons I’ve had to learn the hard way. I want this to become a series, a roadmap that documents my journey in business—not only for those who have reached out to me looking for advice, but more importantly, for my children. Because I know now, from experience, that if I don’t share this with them in the right way, I risk either losing the connection or stealing their sense of accomplishment. I don’t want to do either.
I started my first company, All Nation Restoration, at 18 years old in Austin, Texas. From day one, I saw every employee as an opportunity—not just to get the job done, but to mentor, coach, and guide them. I gave advice freely, often without being asked—how to build credit, what not to buy, how to think about life decisions.
And when that advice was ignored or rejected—when they made the exact mistakes I warned them about—it drove me crazy. It hurt the culture. It damaged trust. Eventually, I realized something critical:
Unwanted advice—even if it’s good—can harm more than it helps.
That shift changed my leadership style. I moved from one-on-one advice-giving to building a structure. A real handbook. Clear policies. Fair rules. Instead of case-by-case management, I put systems in place that everyone could understand and follow. And when employees did something right, I focused on recognizing that—building on their positive decisions instead of obsessing over the negative.
This lesson has been echoing in my mind as I raise my own children. They’re still young now—but one day, they’ll be building something too. They’ll hit a wall, face rejection, get excited about something risky or wild or brilliant. And I know my instinct will be to jump in, give them the “right” answer, steer the ship.
But here’s the truth I’ve come to believe:
Even if your advice works—if they succeed using it—you might have stolen the win from them.
That win matters. It’s what gives people the confidence to try again, to build, to risk, to own their path. I don’t want to rob my kids of that. I want them to win—and know that they did it. That’s why I’m writing. So they have a roadmap when they want it. So they can read it, digest it, ignore it, or use it—and own the result.
I’ve had a lot of young men and women reach out to me for advice. They’ve been inspired by my story. They want guidance, mentorship, a one-on-one connection. And I’m honored by that.
But the truth is—I don’t have the time or energy right now to mentor individually while also building my business, being a father, and taking care of myself. Please know: it’s not a lack of interest. It’s about giving the best version of what I have to offer in the most sustainable, honest way.
These articles? These posts? They’re for you too.
I’ve seen too many entrepreneurs raise kids in comfort, only to feel disconnected from them later—frustrated by entitlement, disappointed that their children don’t understand what it took to build the life they inherited. And often, they wait until they’re angry to say what should’ve been shared all along:
“You have no idea what I went through to get here.”
I don’t want that to be me.
I want my kids to know what I went through. I want them to understand the journey—the dark nights, the big wins, the times I got it wrong. But I want to give that to them in a way that doesn’t damage our relationship. A way that doesn’t feel like preaching, guilt-tripping, or robbing them of their chance to build something for themselves.
So I’m writing. Publicly. Consistently. Honestly. And everything I put out is for them—and for anyone else walking a similar path.
If you’re reading this, know that I’m not writing to impress you. I’m not writing to get followers. I’m writing to tell the truth. To document what worked, what failed, and what I’ve learned from both.
Take what helps. Leave what doesn’t. If something I wrote helps you win, just know—it’s your win. You had to read it, process it, and take action. You deserve every ounce of it.
And as always:
Stay strong. Stay focused. Stay in business.
