I Used to be Accountant

Lately, I’ve been in conversation with several people about their careers.

Some are just starting—young, excited, nervous. They’re eager to bring their skills to the table and start earning, but they're also unsure of the terrain. Especially with AI looming in every corner of the job market, some fear their first steps on the career ladder might already be obsolete. If you pardon the pun, it's redundant.

Then there are the seasoned professionals. Some feel it in their bones: it’s time for something new. Others are forced to pivot because their industries have been shaken, the work they love is scarce, or the pay no longer meets the demands of a cost-of-living crisis.

In these moments, I often find myself playing the role of a sounding board. It’s a privilege, but it also carries weight. I ask questions to shake limiting beliefs. Offer a mirror for reflection. Help people take stock of the market. Explore options based on personality, values, and skillset. A lot of that, truth be told, comes from walking the journey myself.

Walk with me.

I used to be an accountant.

I never sat an exam. Couldn’t care less for tax planning or audit trails. But give me a rolling forecast, a cashflow projection, or a set of what-if macros in Excel, and I'm your guy. I could walk a business owner through the basics of bookkeeping to final accounts. And the truth is, I never really loved the numbers. What I loved was what they unlocked the insight, the agency, the clarity they offered those who depended on them.

I didn’t plan to be an accountant. I landed there after quitting my law degree—turns out I hated exams. Medicine and engineering weren’t realistic for me either, despite being part of the ‘migrant four’ careers that would have made my parents beam with pride.

So I did it. For eight years. Mostly in property and investment companies. Then I bounced into IT—server admin, network admin, software support—still in property, utilities, and later, education systems. MS Access, SQL Server, Excel integrations—I made it work.

And then I realised: I didn’t want to work for anyone anymore.

In my thirties, I started thinking differently.

I knew I had commercial awareness and project management experience. But while I was figuring out my next step, something curious happened. I gained a reputation for giving solid career advice on interviews, presentations, CVs, and salary negotiation. People kept asking. So I kept sharing.

My go-to book was What Colour is Your Parachute? I quoted it so often I ended up being asked to audition for a Channel 4 show called Vocation Vocation Vocation, working with teenagers to help them find their north star. One of them went on to design Polestar. I digress.

This TV fame (infamy?) led to another project—this time a web series with Virgin Startups, supporting budding entrepreneurs, pitching alongside Sir Richard Branson.

That exposure projected me into a new lane: speaker, coach, trusted guide. I began working with leaders, helping them articulate their careers, sharpen their presentation skills, and make better decisions. I drew on my commercial and technical roots, adding tools from coaching and psychology. For the record, I’m not a formally qualified coach (though I do have supervision), but I’ve put in the hours. I’ve got the receipts. And the results.

Why am I telling you all this?

Because at some point, I stopped chasing a job title—and started chasing the value I brought to the table.

That value wasn’t in being an accountant. Or a tech support guy. Or even a speaker. It was in helping people mind the gap—the name of a keynote I used to give—between where they are and where they want to be.

And that, to me, is the heart of any meaningful career.

It’s a balance. Between doing work that gives you joy, delivering value that makes a difference, and being compensated fairly for that value.

Over the years, I’ve raised £150m as a pitch coach. I’ve run music promotions. I’ve led a speaker agency. I even set up an incubator for Black tech founders. Some ventures worked. Others didn’t. But all of them taught me something.

I used to be an accountant. I never imagined that path would lead me here.

And I’m not done yet. I’ve got a few more adventures in me. But I no longer define my work by what’s on the business card. My compass is the value I add.

So if you’re thinking about your career, whether you’re just starting or looking to reinvent, start with that. Find the value piece. Nurture it. Build around it.

Titles will change. Industries will shift. But your value? That’s your north star.