Been grinding away at Sterling Capital Group, a boutique investment firm tucked into a gleaming high-rise in downtown Seattle. It’s the kind of place where everyone wears tailored suits and discusses market volatility over artisan coffee. But for someone like me, it’s just a job. A place where I show up early, stay late when needed, and keep my head down. I’m not the guy who speaks up in partner meetings or sch smoozes at networking events. I’m the one who listens, takes detailed notes, and makes sure the numbers add up perfectly.
If you asked my colleagues about me, they’d probably say I’m dependable but forgettable. Just another face in a company full of ambitious climbers. My life outside work isn’t much more exciting. I rent a small one-bedroom apartment in Capitol Hill, the kind with creaky hardwood floors and a view of the building next door. Weekends are for catching up on sleep, maybe grabbing drinks with a couple of old college friends, or occasionally driving out to visit my dad’s grave in Belleview.
