I set the bar too low

I moved to San Francisco 10 years ago.

I didn’t have a job or an apartment.

I just boarded a plane going from LA to SFO, found a nice room in the Castro and gave myself 2 weeks to figure out if I could stay.

Within 3 days, I had dueling contract offers.

The next Monday morning, I found myself sitting across from a hiring manager inside a bank vault that had been converted into a very intimidating conference room.

“What’s your hourly rate?” he asked.