I love money. I just want it to always be a means, never an end.
I've spent most of my career at startups. There was a time when I was drawn to the fantasy of startups, watching the handful of success stories built on words like stock options and performance bonuses. But now that I know there's a clear ceiling on what an ordinary employee can reach, I think I've come to judge by realistic conditions rather than vague visions.
When I see news of bonuses at Samsung Electronics and SK Hynix, or hear stories of people who made a fortune on Bitcoin, I'm definitely envious. But those people and I are walking different paths to begin with, and when I remember that those positions come with their own worries and conflicts, it never quite turns into jealousy.
So I thought about it for a long time. How much do I need to earn? Do I really want financial freedom? The answer I came to was about this:
Enough to have a good dinner without worrying.
Enough to buy the books, Gundam kits, and records I want, with just a little deliberation.
Enough to handle it if I get married someday or come down with a serious illness.
Honestly, a big part of why I talk about work in this space is to make money and find opportunities, too. But I also don't want to lose the feeling of enjoying the conversation, like riding a wave. So rather than chasing numbers, I want to keep talking for a long time with people who are on the same wavelength.
For the next year or two, the financial goal I want to reach is closer to this one sentence than to any amount:
To be someone who, when the person I love says they want to quit their job, can support that decision at any time.
