I Gave Up Tens of Millions by Moving to Prague

Years ago, when I was in my twenties, I was a junior partner at a small financial research company on the periphery of Wall Street. I had job security. I was debt-free. I had no material worries whatsoever.

And I was miserable.

I hated my job. I hated sitting in the same cubicle-like space, doing the same things I didn't like every single day. I longed for escape.

But what?

Then, something amazing happened:

The Berlin Wall fell.

For those of you too young to remember this event, it's hard to explain its significance. I grew up believing that Eastern Europe would always and forever be closed to me (and to everyone else in the West), and within days this belief was shattered. Almost at once, I started thinking about how I could be part of what was happening.

But how? With no language skills or international experience (I hadn't even been to Europe since I was 2), I thought getting a job there would be impossible—at least a good one.

But what about starting a company?

I did lots of research (and took many trips), and I came to the conclusion that Prague would be my best opportunity, as Czechs seemed very open to foreigners, and it didn't hurt that the place was fairy-tale beautiful. Still, the idea seemed crazy—not just to me, but to everyone I knew, including my family. I didn't speak a word of Czech, I had limited business experience, and I had never done anything crazy before. I had always played it safe. Even when applying to colleges, I only applied to the ones I knew I'd get accepted to.

Fortunately, crazy was what I wanted—what I longed for, and on one cold December evening I stepped onto a plane at JFK and expatriated myself, the beginning of a five-year experience of a lifetime.

I founded and ran a little software/systems integration firm, managing projects for companies like Stanley Tools and Eli Lilly and HBO. Even better, I read books I would've never read, saw movies I would've never seen, and met people I would've never met. I traveled all across Eastern Europe (including once in a war zone), and saw incredible sights I never knew existed, such as Tallinn, Rovinj, and Nida. And the food and the drinks and the smells—I couldn't enumerate them if I tried. I even learned how to speak Czech fluently—a magical language I can still speak today, even if I have no one to speak it with.

Fast forward to the present.

Remember that small financial research company I told you about in the beginning of this story? It recently sold for $2.5 billion dollars. If I had stayed with the company and kept my partnership interest, today I'd have a mid-8-figure net worth.

News of the sale should've made me bitter, especially as I'm struggling today. But instead I laughed. I laugh every time I think about it (including right now), and if I could take a time machine back to before I left for Prague, I wouldn't change a thing. No amount of money could surpass all I experienced, especially if it meant hating every single day of my life.

I don't know if there is a moral to this story. I don't even know if it has a happy ending. All I know is that when it comes my time to go for good, money I won't be able to take with me, but experiences will remain with me forever.