I woke up one day and I realized I now live next to a high rise in downtown Austin Texas where I’m in walking distance of a Trader Joes and Whole Food’s HQ. The kicker is that I can also put money into retirement now. How the heck did I get here? Do I deserve it?

This year was crushingly painful. It tested me to the limits. I achieved none of my goals from last year but somehow ended up in a place where I’m better off than I’ve ever been in my life. Ironically, the pandemic was the most peaceful part of my fourth-year podcasting because it gave me time to recharge and reflect because I was safe, comfortable, and lucky.

This has been a brutal year for everyone due to the global pandemic and I am very fortunate to be in a place where I still have a job, can work from home and I’m well-fed. Perhaps too well-fed. With this, I’ve done some reflection and a new conviction is starting to bubble up. We’ll see where it goes. I can’t make any promises.

On Leaving the Startup I Founded

No one really cared about me leaving Better Meat Co and that’s probably a good thing. It was a civil leave but I had time to digest and I just want to share my takeaways. I think the lessons will be helpful.

There were two sources of media that I listened to that allowed me to be comfortable with leaving and that was the Startup Therapy podcast and The Hard Things About Hard Things. The basic premise of both is this: sometimes as a technical founder, your technology can only do so much and if the team needs to pivot or find better technology, then you’ve hit your limit, and it’s time to move on. The emotional stake you have in your technology will be a huge factor when it’s replaced but you won’t realize it until it actually happens.

Though I feel that Better Meat Co would be successful with my formulations alone, the sales didn’t keep up with the R and D, I got bored of the product, and that ended up being a vicious cycle of being unmotivated creatively. The tasks got more difficult and more boring and more focus was put on the “cool project” rather than my stuff. No product developer likes cost-cutting projects.

To say the decision was 100% peaceful was not true. I had a lot of tension with the other founders in the company that no one will ever talk about. I regret a few communicative actions but I also felt like I wasn’t treated right at times. But you have to move on and own up to your mistakes.

Whenever I talk about the business, I’ve been noticing recently that a lot of people notice my self-awareness, that they notice a pain in my voice when I talk about my past business. It doesn’t hurt to talk about it, but it hits differently. I think that’s the clearest sign that someone has gone through it and survived and they respect your authenticity.

It’s also interesting to note is that this happens more often than you think and it feels like a mark of shame. No one really cares when founders leave, but it still feels embarrassing. Most ex-CTO-founder roles hide the fact that they left. I know a handful of people who quietly left their companies. I wish more people would talk about it, but it’s a really embarrassing topic yet it happens so often. It took me so long to accept that I built a company and it wouldn’t have successful, no, existed without me. It’s only been recent that I’ve realized what I created was impactful.

My time at Better Meat Co was well worth it and the short time I spent working on it has paid dividends. Overall, when I reflect my time at Better Meat Co, the most surreal thing I can think of is that 3 people raised $1.5 million dollars and convinced a giant billion-dollar chicken manufacturer to take a look into the strange topic of blending plant and animals and busted out commercialized products in less than a year in 7000 stores. Of course, the timing, connections and money matters, but those were resources that we earned through our past lives and we used them to the fullest. To say luck paid a big factor is probably true, but most entrepreneurs have no idea what they’re doing. We did and leveraged everything to get there.

When I first started Better Meat Co, I made a bet, and to sum it up, it paid off.

On Mental Health

*note: I am not diagnosed depressed because I never went to a doctor to find out*

In the final months at Better Meat Co, I got into a depressive, gloomy state and I felt exhausted all the time. My left eye kept on twitching uncontrollably. I couldn’t sleep, I got angry often. When I could sleep, I didn’t want to get up. I was always cold in my broken-down apartment and I wouldn’t respond to texts. Every day, I felt terrible. I didn’t know what was happening to me. I couldn’t afford therapy at the time and no one really could understand what I was going through. Entrepreneur life is great, right?

Luckily, we do live in a world where people are now transparent with their depressive episodes. Like entrepreneurship, I think it’s hard to help with the problem unless you’ve been in that state yourself. People will always say they love you, but when those words enter the mindset of someone who feels like nothing matters, it doesn’t matter. I found the best way to cope, is to talk to people who’ve had the same struggles I’ve had and just listen and be there. The podcast was the main method for this. During this period I would ask entrepreneurs how they got through a tough time and it helped me.

But I also felt an existential crisis. My goal for so long was to build a business and I ended up building a successful plant-meat company and a pretty good podcast platform. People were super interested in giving me money in exchange for working on their products and I should have felt amazing but I felt so much dread and loss of purpose.

Even now, I sometimes feel like I don’t have any direction to go because I’ve achieved my dreams. I started a company so why wasn’t I happy? It’s a very cliché story, but it’s true and it broke me. Perhaps time will tell when I’ll find something to grasp again. It’s funny, I’ve been in my most successful state right now but I feel like I’ve lost purpose. But I’m getting better.

A big thing to note is that I’ve realized how hard it is to relate to anyone about it. When my mom had depression, I couldn’t understand it. It didn’t make sense to me. The issue with this type of feeling is that it spirals downward. People say that you should reach out for help, but in your mind, no one cares what you say, or that you feel pathetic for reaching out. It takes a very brave person to reach out when a friend feels like someone’s in a depressive episode and sympathize with them and I am lucky to have some very brave people in my life.

On Consulting and Podcasting Full Time

I had a 6 month grace period where I took on consulting projects while working at Better Meat Co. This ended up doubling my monthly income and allowed me to pay down a lot of things that were making me anxious. I figured with enough runway, I could launch my own consulting business or something.

In hindsight, working around the clock was probably a big sign of me feeling depressive. It was probably burnout. Being anxious if I could make next month’s rent, or the thought of living with my parents was super stressful because I would feel like a failure. I think if I did pull through, and suffered a few years, I would have made a pretty good consulting business, but I’m young and consulting is more of a “cash-all-your-chips” business. It’s not my time yet.

I also had so many offers to travel for my podcast and it wouldn’t make sense for Better Meat Co to let me go to these things on company time. At the end of the day, the final straw for me putting my two weeks notice was because I got a free trip to San Antonio. After that, it was doing consulting projects, and podcast projects under Food Science Media Lab, LLC, a company that I technically still run.

It took me about two months of consulting full time for the job offers to bombard me. I turned down a lot of good roles to give me space.

I applied to a few jobs, but my only criteria was if my boss would be a fan of My Food Job Rocks.

Turns out, the head of WeWork Food Labs was.

I actually originally applied to the San Francisco role but that was a time where WeWork was flying high. Once their wings melted, I got radio silence for a while. Usually, when that happens, you lost the job.

It wasn’t until I met my boss at the Smart Kitchen Summit (thanks to the podcast) and visited the San Francisco space (where I did the 200^th episode) that I got this rejuvenation to really want to help bring this program to life. So I contacted my boss again, and the discussion continued.

Out of the blue, I was asked if I wanted to move to Austin. That wouldn’t make sense. I literally don’t know anyone in Austin. But they really needed someone to manage their Austin space. They gave me an offer that had very minimal downsides and tremendous upsides and the only negotiation was that I wanted to walk to work because I heard Austin traffic sucks.

On Escapism

One can say moving to Austin allowed me to run away from all my problems. I would say so. It’s another chapter and taking all of my learnings from making friends in Phoenix, connecting with amazing people from My Food Job Rocks, and explaining business from Better Meat Co, this allowed me to establish myself fast. It also helped that I had resources to do so. Austin is one of the friendliest places to start a business and I highly recommend that if you do, get plugged in. The ecosystem there is very welcoming to new businesses who want to make cool products.

We live in a time where we can travel everywhere and meet so many cool people. There are definitive benefits of living in the same town, but for me, the world is too big to explore. Austin gave me a new perspective on how businesses should be run and I’ll always cherish that because….

On Escaping Escapism

Six months later, and after a pandemic that has changed the very fabric of reality, I’m announcing that I’ll be moving to Boston soon. I ended up getting a high-profile job at Motif Foodworks doing alt-meat application. I was first contacted by a recruiter, turned it down, but then things started happening such as a shift of internal resources, SXSW canceling and the freaking COVID-19 pandemic convinced me to put my hat in the ring. After a pretty tough interview process, I got the job. The whole team was very impressed with my narrative of building Better Meat Co. What’s funny is that two years building a company expedited my career growth. This job required 10 years of experience. I have half that so I’ll have to make up for it.

So why? Adam, are you an idiot? Probably but whatever. The best thing about being an entrepreneur is that you realize bad signs and once you realize you just can’t control them, you have to think of a contingency plan. Some people will disagree with this, that pushing through shows guts and that you’re really cool but I’m not like that, and please never think that I am. Overall, I’m an opportunist and always will be. It’s my style.

Bad things out of my control happened during my short stint in Austin. For one, my space had to be moved to a less attractive space that my members were not happy with. I’d be fine making due, after all, I had Expo West and South by South West to hype up the space. Oh wait, they’re canceled because of the pandemic. It would be hard to build it back up again after that and with the pandemic destroying the coworking industry, things looked pretty bad. I knew that leaving WeWork would kill the physical program in Austin. And it did.

Working at WeWork was just unstable after the pandemic hit. Taking this job was always a risk because well, if you do the research, they’re in a weird place, but no one could have expected a virus that would eliminate the main function of my job to ruin everything this year. On top of that, the regional team made me feel powerless and kept on taking my assets for higher-value opportunities. When a company is strapped for cash, innovation is hard to focus on. With a big company, this is amplified. Overall, the factors I could not control were stacking up and the only factor I felt like I could control was to either stay or leave. So I took a chance with Motif because trying out for that job looked more secure than staying in something completely out of my control. WeWork was just too big, in a bad place, and I was at the bottom of the totem pole to really move anything on a regional level.

Motif also gives me a renewed perspective of purpose. What I liked about it is that there are a lot of smart people there. Experienced food industry veterans who really like science. Even the CEO is a veteran in the food industry. It’s a smallish team, and I can still walk to work. What the pandemic made me realize is how can I use my time in this world more wisely? I’m fortunate to have developed a skillset and risk tolerance to be valuable and it’s the perfect opportunity to learn a lot from the people around me. In terms of the people I’d be surrounded by, if Better Meat Co was like getting an MBA, Motif would be like getting a PhD.

I really believe that WeWork Food Labs is very valuable and they have a great team over there that really does care about the future of food. Most members don’t take advantage of the perks but if you do, you’ll get a good return on investment. The only reason I’m leaving is because I felt like I wasn’t in control and the factors that caused that I had no way of controlling. A pandemic can do that to you, but I am more fortunate than others in that I still had a job and living in a safe apartment. I at least had a choice in choosing my next move.

On a personal level, WeWork Food Labs filled a knowledge gap I was drastically missing: end-game retail. I’m still not an expert on it but if you haven’t noticed, a slight focus on My Food Job Rocks talks about retail and how to either get financing for it or how to find a broker. Though I’m not an expert, my network is now filled with people who are experts in things like this. I have a feeling this will be useful in the future. Overall, I realized distribution is the worst thing in the world and I wish there was some way to fix it. I’m not that person, but I hope to reach someone who is ballsy enough to take it on.

As an aside, the pandemic has really messed up the lives of a lot of people. I feel fortunate that I took this time to really think while also trying to find ways to help people. Within the pandemic, I’ve launched useful podcasts, conducted fun webinars, connected with friends all over the world, and supported virtual happy hours and had time to sit down and learn a bunch of cool stuff. As we’re seeing the faint light at the end of the tunnel, I find my time in this situation worth it, with no regrets.

All because of a Podcast

I think back about everything that’s happened and all it took was doing a weekly podcast and consistently try to tell everyone about it for four years straight.

With over 200 episodes, over 140,000 downloads, 220,000 page views, and so many lessons, I just think of the valuable things I’ve learned just talking to people. With every podcast, looking at its metrics and its feedback and how I can improve the next one was really enjoyable. The learning experience alone allowed me to be more confident and ask better questions. When the pandemic hit, I would think in my room how I can use my platform to help others and I felt like my time sharing knowledge was well used. I felt so much joy when I read reviews, get messages, or get approached at conferences saying how much they like the podcast.

In every turning point in my life, the podcast has been transformative. I used to think that the podcast was nothing special but now when I tell people about it and how far it’s gotten, I realized just how valuable it actually is.

As I’ve mentioned before, My Food Job Rocks will probably end near episode 250. Then I dunno, I’ll create other possible podcasts that dig deeper into the food we eat (with a science twist). If that doesn’t work, maybe I’ll do My Food Job Rocks 2, or do a completely different medium! Or maybe I’ll finally take a break and focus on just one thing for a while. I don’t want to plan right now. I’m tired.

The podcast allowed me to get a top tier job in a field trying to change the world making an income I couldn’t even fathom a year ago. It allowed me to diligently share my love of food science enough where people will notice it. It allowed me to connect with people much more experience than me and allowed me to teach others. It allowed me to understand why people buy into things and the hardships of business.

My Food Job Rocks has been a creative project that has given me joy, connections, opportunities, respect, and successes I could have never even dream of. But now it’s at its limit in a career perspective. It’s time to cash out and look for something new.

A Happy End?

Sometimes I post things and people think I’m really sad. I try to just be transparent. Life is confusing, unfair and people are complex. But it’s also rich, full of surprises, and you have more control over your story if you learn how to write it.

I’ve always felt successful when it comes to the choices I’ve made in my life and I’m fortunate that I can tangibly tell my story to make others think I’m successful too.

I’m not 30 yet so saying I feel like if I said my life is good might be considered selfish, but I felt like I worked hard to get to where I am today. It’s a team effort. Friends, family, guest on the podcast, partner (business or otherwise), mentors whether by person or by book, the people who believed in me played a huge part.

All I want to show you is that the payoff for consistently tinkering and sharing a creative project can change your life in so many ways and the best part is that you never know where it takes you. It’s hard and it takes a lot of luck but every piece of content you produce adds up. Not only from a portfolio perspective but a life perspective.

People ask me how I did it and I’ll tell them “do an interview podcast for four years straight” and then I’ll offer to help them whenever and 99% of people will forget the next day. I realize that this type of fire needs to come from within and you need an obsessive level of detail and conviction to be open to improve every single episode.

So at the end of the day, the fire burns from within but just like any fire, you need a spark to ignite the fuel that’s building up. I hope whether through a blog post, a podcast episode, or this article, that it’s the spark you need right now to start something on your own.

Everyone has the power to create something special.