Yesterday, I got a message that stopped me dead in my tracks.
It was from a young guy I’d met about four years ago, back when I was serving as Chief Digital Officer at Hemas in Sri Lanka. Just seven words that hit harder than any quarterly earnings call I’ve ever sat through:
“Sir, I finally did it – I hit $10,000 this month.”
Now, I get plenty of messages. Most involve someone panicking about a deadline, asking me to “jump on a quick call” (which is never quick), or explaining why they definitely didn’t receive that email I can see they opened three times.
But this one was different. This one made me put my phone down, sit back, and just… grin like an idiot.
Because I remembered exactly who sent it. And I remembered where he started.
A Flashback to Four Years Ago
When I think back, it feels like another lifetime. Possibly someone else’s lifetime.
As Chief Digital Officer at a sprawling conglomerate, I was constantly being flung from one subsidiary to another like some sort of corporate pinball. The group had everything from hospitals to stationery companies, which meant one day I’d be explaining data privacy regulations to surgeons, and the next I’d be in a room full of people asking if we really needed a website when “everyone just walks into the shop anyway.”
Honestly, it was exhausting. But it had its moments.
What made it worthwhile were the young people – interns and junior execs who’d show up with a mix of nervous energy, genuine curiosity, and fashion choices that made you wonder if they’d dressed in the dark. Most were just trying to survive long enough to get a permanent contract and a slightly less horrifying commute.
But one of them – the hero of this story – was different.
He was painfully shy. His English wobbled between passable and “did he just invent a new tense?” His payslip was about $100 a month, which in Sri Lanka is barely enough to cover lunch and the bus fare to get there.
But behind all that? Something rare. Curiosity. And the courage to actually ask questions rather than just nodding along and googling everything later like everyone else.
A Brave Email and a Cup of Tea (That Changed Everything)
A week or two after one of my presentations, I got an email from him.
Subject line: “Request for advice – if you have time, sir.”
Now, in the rigid corporate hierarchy of Sri Lanka, this is the equivalent of an intern cold-emailing the Prime Minister to ask for career advice. It simply isn’t done. You wait your turn, you respect the chain of command, and you definitely don’t bother senior management with your dreams.
But he did it anyway.
We met for tea at some cafe near the office. He showed up early, clutching a notebook like it was the last lifeboat off the Titanic. He was 21 or 22, bright-eyed, polite to the point of painful, and absolutely terrified.
But he had a spark. During my presentation, he’d asked one of the most thoughtful questions I’d heard all year – something about how to actually start rather than just learning endlessly. I’d remembered him for it.
Over slightly too-sweet powdered milk tea, he told me his story. Parents running a tiny shop. Money tight. No real connections. But a burning desire to build something of his own and stop being trapped in a system where promotions arrived on geological timescales.
He wanted to get into digital business but had absolutely no clue where to start. No portfolio. No experience. Just a laptop that took five minutes to boot and a dream that probably sounded ridiculous when he said it out loud.
So we talked. E-commerce. Shopify. Facebook ads. Product selection. The boring stuff everyone glosses over in their “I made $10K in 10 days” YouTube thumbnails.
Nothing fancy. Just real, practical advice. And at the end, I gave him the only thing that actually matters:
“Start with something you actually like. It’ll help when everything inevitably goes to shit.”
He wrote that down. Word for word.
The Hustle Begins (and the Internet Immediately Punches Him in the Face)
A few weeks later, he’d built a tiny dropshipping store.
It was… not good.
He spent what little money he had on Facebook ads, got a handful of clicks, precisely zero sales, and learned the hard way that “winning product” YouTube videos are mostly bollocks.
The kind of failure that makes you question every life decision that led you to this moment. The kind that makes opening a coconut stall on the beach suddenly seem like a viable backup plan.
But wait – it gets worse.
Sri Lanka was going through one of its periodic foreign exchange crises, which meant his local bank card wouldn’t work for international payments. He literally couldn’t even run ads or pay for basic tools without someone helping him.
So he sent me another email. Painfully polite. Apologetic. Asking if – and I quote – “if it’s not too much trouble, sir” – he could borrow my PayPal account to get started.
Now, lending your PayPal to someone you barely know is objectively insane. Every fraud prevention guide ever written would tell you to run in the opposite direction. But there was something about the way he asked – equal parts desperate and determined – that made me think, “sod it, why not?“
He used it to buy hosting, a domain, and run a few ads.
The first store? Failed spectacularly.
The second one? Did slightly better, which is to say it failed less spectacularly.
The third one? Still terrible, but he was learning.
Most people would’ve quit. Most people would’ve decided the universe was sending them a message and gone back to their cubicle. But not this kid.
He pivoted. Started experimenting with digital products. Moved to Etsy – designing printable templates, digital planners, art prints. Things people could download instantly without him having to deal with shipping logistics or angry customers wondering where their parcel was.
And this time?
This time, something clicked.
Bit by bit, dollar by dollar, sale by sale, his little store started growing. Not hockey-stick growth. Not “quit your job in 30 days” nonsense. Just steady, unglamorous progress that nobody writes Medium articles about.
Fast-Forward to Now (Where Things Get Properly Good)
Four years later, that same shy 21-year-old is now 24 or 25, running a digital products business that just hit $10,000 in monthly revenue.
Let that sink in for a second. Ten thousand dollars. A month. From a kid who four years ago was earning $100 and wondering if he’d ever afford to move out of his parents’ place.
He’s a one-man operation – designer, marketer, customer service, accountant, and CEO all rolled into one slightly sleep-deprived package. His profit margins? Around 90%, which frankly is better than most venture-backed startups I’ve seen with fifty employees, three rounds of funding, and a kitchen stocked with kombucha.
When we spoke yesterday, I had to ask: “So what’s next?”
He didn’t hesitate.
“Sir, it took me four years to get here. Next year, I want to hit $50,000 per month.”
And you know what? I believe him. Completely.
Because the hardest part was never going from $10,000 to $50,000. The hardest part was believing that $10,000 was even possible when you’re staring at a bank balance with two digits and your parents are asking when you’re going to get a “real job.”
What He’s Actually Achieved (Beyond the Numbers)
Let’s do the math, shall we?
If he’d stayed in his old corporate job, his salary might have crept up from 30,000 rupees to maybe 40,000 by now – if he was lucky and kept his head down and didn’t upset anyone important. He’d be sitting in a cubicle under fluorescent lighting, attending meetings that could’ve been emails, waiting for a promotion that might arrive around the same time Halley’s Comet makes its next pass.
Instead?
He’s out-earning senior executives who’ve been climbing the corporate ladder for decades. People with corner offices and business cards that list three separate titles. All while working from home in a small town outside Kandy, probably in shorts and a t-shirt.
But here’s what really matters: he’s learned how to actually build things.
Product research. Store design. Graphic design. Copywriting. Facebook ads. Email marketing. Customer service. Analytics. The whole bloody stack.
He’s essentially turned himself into a full-spectrum digital entrepreneur without ever setting foot in an MBA classroom or paying £50,000 for a degree that teaches you to make PowerPoint slides and talk in corporate jargon.
The skills he’s picked up? They’re portable. Valuable. Future-proof.
Even if his Etsy store disappeared tomorrow (which it won’t), he could walk into any digital marketing role, any e-commerce company, any startup, and be immediately useful. Or better yet – start another business. Because he knows how.
That’s what four years of doing instead of just learning gets you.
The Real Lesson Here (And It’s Not What You Think)
Right. Before anyone mistakes this for one of those “look at me, I’m such an amazing mentor” stories that LinkedIn is drowning in – let’s be brutally honest.
I did almost nothing.
One cup of tea. Maybe an hour of conversation. Access to a PayPal account I wasn’t even using. That’s it.
I didn’t “coach” him. I didn’t take equity. I didn’t charge him for “consulting sessions” or sell him a course on “unlocking his potential” or any of that guru rubbish that’s infected the internet.
The credit is entirely, completely, 100% his.
He’s the one who had the guts to send that first email when everyone told him to “know his place.”
He’s the one who kept going after the first store failed. And the second. And the third.
He’s the one who spent four years learning, failing, adjusting, and building – while everyone around him was asking when he was going to get serious and apply for a proper job with a pension.
So what’s the lesson?
Whether you’re 21 or 41 or somewhere in between:
Learn new skills. Real ones. Useful ones.
Try things. Not in your head. Actually try them.
Fail. You will. Get comfortable with it.
Try again. Because the first attempt is almost always rubbish.
Keep going. Especially when it feels pointless.
This isn’t one of those “I made $10K in my first month” fantasies that crypto bros and dropshipping gurus peddle on YouTube. This took four years. Four years of grinding, failing, learning, and slowly figuring it out.
But here’s the thing: he did it. And in doing so, he’s built something that can’t be taken away. Skills that compound. A business that grows. A future that’s entirely in his own hands.
That’s worth more than any corporate promotion or fancy job title could ever be.
Final Thoughts (And Why You Should Probably Just Start)
So if you’ve been sitting on an idea, wondering whether it’s worth trying, whether you’re “ready,” whether it’s the “right time” – here’s your answer:
It probably is. You probably aren’t. And it definitely isn’t.
Do it anyway.
Find someone who’ll give you honest feedback – not cheerleading, not sugar-coating, but actual useful advice. Start small. Fail quickly. Learn from it. Try again.
Because sometimes, all it takes is one awkward email, one cup of slightly-too-sweet tea, and one conversation to change the entire trajectory of your life.
And if nothing else, you’ll at least have a good story to tell.
Four years from now, someone might be writing about you.
P.S. – If you’re that person thinking “but I don’t have any skills” or “I don’t know where to start” – that’s exactly where he was. The only difference is he started anyway. So should you.

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wow! this. it got me tears of happiness. thank you so much for sharing this gem. such a true to life inspiration. congratulations to him. 🎉 n thanks to you for sparkling that light in him. ❤️🔥