What's a $1,000,000 Worth?

Doug Spencer Feb. 12, 2025 Purpose

Once upon a time, I was an academically-inclined guy in my early twenties.

I had gone to college, checked the right boxes, and 2 days after graduation I found myself in a suit on Wall Street, preparing for my summer position at a prestigious law firm.

I had accepted a scholarship to Columbia Law School and would start there in the fall. The way my summer position worked—as long as I didn’t make any monumental mistakes—the pathway had already been created for me to return in future summers, and eventually as a full-time associate post law school.

Sure, hard work lay ahead. But the hardest work was done. In my law school and law firm acceptances, my ticket had been punched on a well-worn, lucrative career.

Then—just 2 weeks into my first law firm experience—I called Columbia to withdraw. The promising legal career was over before it even began.

I did the math: $1,000,000+

Because the odds were pretty low, I’m making an assumption that I wouldn’t have royally messed up at the firm. And because major law firm salaries are public information, if I had just stayed the course, I would’ve made north of $1,000,000 in compensation over the last handful of years.

Even as a young man with virtually no professional experience, I knew that the lawyers around me made great money. However, I hadn’t been in the real world long enough yet; I was largely oblivious of the many things that great money can buy.

But what I believed then—and still believe now—is that making money should never be my primary driving force.

What do you value?

There’s still an elephant in the room: why did I withdraw from Columbia and walk away from the high-powered lawyer track?

The short answer: it became clear that attending Columbia would be my safe choice, not the right choice.

Education, at home and at school, is a powerful process. In my opinion, the majority of our most strongly held values are ingrained in us before we have any say in what we’re taught—and those are often the hardest values to change.

At first I wouldn't cooperate, but I was conditioned to get good grades; to get good grades, you have to follow the rules. And naturally, when you get good grades and follow the rules, you get a good job.

The problem for me was that when I reached the final destination, the good legal job—almost as if I’d ate something that gave me food poisoning—my body and mind were aggressively rejecting it.

Reaching a crossroad

The need to track and allocate all of my time in 6-minute increments; the unwritten law that I should humbly accept whatever work is given to me—no matter the hour—and complete it as fast as possible without guidance; the extremely formal and hierarchal structure.

The elements that didn’t jive with me weren’t insignificant; most of them were core to life at a major firm. Making my way to the inside, the profession had unveiled itself to me.

I had no shot at changing the culture and norms of age-old corporate law. I knew that.

I boiled my next step down to a couple of options: either forge ahead as planned and live counter to my values or change course and hold on tight to my values.

So, I picked the rational option. I changed course. I withdrew from law school.

What’s emotion got to do with it?

I understand how someone could reasonably argue that sticking to the script, continuing down the legal path I’d put so much effort into, was the rational option.

After all, the family and advisors that I trusted—with maybe one exception—encouraged me to just see it through.

But in my opinion, seeing it through was the emotional option.

Rooted in love, they wanted me to avoid risk. The fact that I clearly didn’t enjoy it was secondary to financial safety.

I’m not saying this line of thinking is wrong but, wanting to protect me and the fear of the unknown, these sound like emotion-led arguments to me.

And not to say I was emotionless about what was by far the most consequential, independent decision of my life, but emotion was just part of the equation.

I very much saw the work I’d already put in as a sunk cost; I’d already paid it—I couldn’t get that time or energy back.

Based on what I’d learned in my short time at the firm, the circumstances had changed drastically, so I had to update my plan accordingly.

If my new plan meant I had to leave the metaphorical walls of the castle and wander the metaphorical forest, I was game for a hazardous adventure.

A creator was born

Several years have passed since I leapt from the sure thing. Immediately after, I discovered this phenomenon called entrepreneurship and met these people called entrepreneurs who all had their own stories about leaving careers, too.

As I write here, I’m approaching 4 years as a full-time entrepreneur—and it feels like I’ve barely scratched the surface.

I feel blessed that, like a ricochet, I can trace the trajectory of both my personal and professional life back to a single origin story.

Now since the origin, certain details have come into focus or changed entirely, but what’s remained constant is my desire to live an ambitious, curious, and autonomous life.