I’ve always had low self-esteem when it comes to my skills and abilities. Because of that, I’ve always drifted toward jobs that felt easier to pattern. Not easy jobs necessarily, just ones where I could hold my own without feeling out of my depth. No big master plan. Just vibes and survival. Just drifting where life carried me.

After university, I found myself in Seoul, ROK, hustling ESL. Real talk, it was an easy ting in its own way. Entertaining a class of kids by being goofy and weird. But it wasn’t rocket science. It was me in phat pants and bear slippers, making grammatically correct fart jokes. That was the job. And somehow, it landed. Some kids even cried when I left. Life’s funny like that.

I like to think I’m an affable dude, and because of that, I got an opportunity to do some global sourcing for a cool guy in my evening adult class who owned a character brand that was doing alright. Not big-big, but moving. I did that under the table for about a year. Nothing flashy. Just another drift. Another lane I stepped into without really planning it.

Once that ran its course, a colleague from my first year lined me up with a gig editing at a Korean government agency. In the ROK, those contracts cap at two years, so that’s what I did. They seemed to rate my work, but I never thought I was doing anything special. I just had a decent grasp of the language of international development. I could talk the talk. Sometimes that’s enough. That’s also where I met my future ex-wife.

When that job ended, I was already living with the future ex-wife and planning the wedding. I landed another editing job at a different government agency. Same pattern. I understood the language of environmental policy well enough to sound competent. Nothing spectacular. Just holding a meds ting and keeping it moving.

At that point, we agreed her career would take priority. Her upward mobility looked stronger than mine, and honestly, as a modern mandem, I didn’t push back. That had always been my pattern. I wasn’t trying to be top don. I was comfortable being the steady one, holding things down in the background.

Once we were married, I didn’t need visa sponsorship anymore, so I went back to working part-time for the businessman and picked up some private English teaching at offices. Just piecing together a living. Nothing fancy. Just doing my ting.

Then the future ex-wife got dispatched to Sri Lanka for two years. I accompanied her as a spouse, which meant I wasn’t allowed to work. I did some remote work for the businessman for a bit, but remote work back then wasn’t patterned properly, and the internet was shaky. That faded quickly. And just like that, I drifted into house husband life.

Sri Lanka was bless though. Beautiful country. Slower pace. Proper calm energy. We enjoyed it so much the future ex-wife got preggers. Agency policy meant we had to return to the ROK for the birth, so we packed up and returned.

Back in Korea, we ended up living with her mom in her hometown. Less sophisticated. Less comfortable. But you make do. That’s life sometimes.

When my daughter was born, I switched from smoking cigarettes to vaping. I tried to start a small business importing vape liquid into Korea. Another drift. Another attempt to build something small-small. Nothing massive, just trying to make something stick.

About a month before the future ex-wife returned to work, we moved back to the Seoul region. Her office had relocated to an almost rural area outside the city as part of decentralization. There was daycare at her agency, so she’d head to work early with our daughter. I’d work on the juice business, teach a few corporate classes at lunch, then walk to daycare, pick up my daughter, and head back to our tiny apartment. Cook. Clean. Entertain. Hold things down until she came home late at night.

Korean work culture was never a problem when we were childless. But once it was just me and my daughter holding things down every day, it got quiet heavy.

Then suddenly the future ex-wife got the golden opportunity. Country director for Nigeria. This was the upward mobility we’d been planning for. So, I shut down the juice business and cancelled the classes I’d worked hard to rebuild. Packed up again. Drifted again.

In Nigeria, my visa was once again “accompanying spouse.” But by that point, while I was excited, giving up another attempt at building something of my own quietly dashed whatever employment ambitions I had left.

Then came the soon to be ex-wife’s mental breakdown. Her broken promises. The toxicity. That’s when I said enough. I took my daughter and left. That part is already documented.

After that, I was back at my mom’s place as a single dad. And once again, I drifted toward something I felt I could manage; janitor at a church.

When mom was still in the picture, and during a temporary COVID layoff, we hit a few thousand on a quick-pick encore number. Nothing life-changing, but enough to spark an idea. I started what I thought was a clever catnip business called Recreational Narcatics. In my head, it was a proper ting — niche, funny, something I could build slow and steady. But I guess I was the only one who thought it was clever. It never really took off. Another drift. Another quiet attempt that eventually fizzled.

Looking back, I figure most of the opportunities I’ve had in life came from being affable. Easy to reason with. Easy to get along with. The kind of person people don’t mind giving a chance to. That was my little edge. But now, with AI scanning resumes and running first interviews, that edge doesn’t really translate. I can’t vibe with an algorithm. I can’t build rapport with code. The affable ting doesn’t land the same.

At least… that’s what I’ve convinced myself of.