The story
I am not interesting because of what I do for work.
I am a Certified Financial Planner in North Carolina. That is the least interesting true thing about me, and it is usually the first thing anyone learns.
James at work, or at home, or outside · 4:5 · candid beats posed
The certification
The CFP took years. Coursework, then a board exam most people describe as the hardest thing they have sat, then an experience requirement measured in thousands of hours. A large share of people who start it never finish, and the ones who do rarely talk about how close they came to stopping.
I finished it. I am now working through the Enrolled Agent credential on top of it, with the exams mapped out through early 2027, because the questions that actually decide outcomes for business owners are tax questions and I would rather answer them myself than refer them out.
Neither of those is a reason to trust someone. They are evidence of one thing only, which is that I finish things I start when finishing them stops being enjoyable.
Temperament
Everyone is calm at mile two.
An Ironman is not won in the water. It is won somewhere around mile eighteen of the marathon, when nothing left in the plan feels good and the only remaining discipline is to execute it anyway.
I have been to that place four times on a race course and more than that off one. It is the single most useful thing I know about myself, and it is the reason I am useful to anyone else.
Something that says who you are outside work · golf, church, family, the road
What I do with the rest of it
I sit on the finance council at St. Thomas More. I organise a charity golf tournament and have done every year for seven years. I help nonprofits find money and infrastructure they did not know was available, including the Google Ad Grant, and I have built websites for a few of them so the money had somewhere to land.
I golf badly and often. I do one Misogi a year, which is a single deliberately hard thing chosen on purpose, and it has become the most clarifying appointment on my calendar.
I am getting married.
What I am building is not finished, and that is the point.
I am not a person who arrived somewhere and set up a shop. I am in the middle of building something, which means when someone across the table is deciding what to do with the thing they spent twenty years on, I am not reading from a manual.