Business Memoir Sample

Success stories don’t always begin with a polished version of the past with neatly packaged struggles, strategic breakthroughs, and a clear path to triumph. The path forward is often messy and traumatic. Only the individual can decide that their life has a purpose beyond the circumstances in which they were raised. My life was undoubtedly a ragged journey that I navigated without using a guidebook or direct instruction on how to get from point A to point B. Before I built anything worth talking about, I learned to survive. Ambition guided the actions taken during the hardest lessons. Lessons that left the deepest scars. 

 

If I could pinpoint the moment that set the trajectory for my business acumen and career success, it would be sixth grade. There were no boundaries except those my parents and mentors might have imposed, but they didn’t; the skies were infinite, and the possibilities were endless. My middle school years were a whirlwind of contrasts, filled with incredible highs and excruciatingly painful lows. Life and death revealed themselves in stark, unforgettable ways, teaching me lessons that most children never experience. The exhilaration of new ventures and the sting of early failures were my constant companions, each adding depth to my burgeoning ambition. I absorbed every experience like a sponge, each shaping the man I am today.

 

My father, Slim, was a street hustler who was doing very well at the time. He was a firm, savvy, charismatic, and outgoing businessman. People looked up to him no matter their age, and he mentored many of the neighborhood’s brothers. His name was legendary, and my brother and I admired him greatly.

 

The people in the neighborhood rustled with excitement when my father pulled up in a stretch limousine. You could hear them shouting, “Michael Jackson’s here!” Some kids chased after the stretch as it moved slowly down the block. The disappointment didn’t falter once they realized it was not. They continued to cheer excitedly as my sisters and I got into the limo. My father introduced us to the driver, who drove us around the West Side of Chicago. 

 

My father was proud to hear from my mother that I was doing very well in school. Thanks to Mr. Kling and his tutelage, who would not only be my teacher for the entirety of my middle school years but also my mentor, treating me more like a son than a student. At that time, Chicago public schools were deemed the worst educational system in the country. Mr. Kling was a white man who drove an hour daily from Evanston, IL, to the hood, where everything tragic was happening. It was the 80’s, pre-drug war, and the crack epidemic was on the rise. He would risk his life to come in and educate us. 

 

Mr. Kling did it so efficiently that by the time we were in Eighth grade, we were testing out at high and college levels for reading, math, and science. We received a lot of recognition for our scores. Local newspapers interviewed us. The Chicago Tribune came to our class and sat in on our class. He had us competing on debate teams. We often discussed social issues. He was huge on black history and the achievements of black Americans. All of these significant achievements came from kids on the West side of Chicago, who were cast aside. It was already pre-determined that we were going to amount to anything. The way Mr. Kling taught and delivered quality education made all the difference.

 

My father gave me a hearty pat on the back, grabbing me by my shoulders and pulling me into his frame. He said he wanted me to keep doing well so I could become an accountant.

 

“What’s an accountant?” I asked.

 

“Somebody who’s gonna count my money!” He said to me. 

 

If that was what he wanted me to be, then that was what it would be. As a child, my parents played a huge role in instilling dreams, values, and a sense of purpose in my life.

 

My mom and dad were almost complete opposites. My mom had me when she was seventeen years old, and my father was also a young man; he was seventeen. They knew each other in childhood. My mom is a poet and a very soulful individual, but shy. She always taught me to stand up for what is right. She also taught me the struggle and the power behind being a young black man growing up in this country.

 

On the other hand, my father is a straight businessman. He is firm, savvy, charismatic, and outgoing. I am a melting pot of their characteristics. I studied them both and gained incredible wisdom from them. They took time out to teach me what they knew.

 

Sixth grade was pivotal in many ways. My mother ensured I understood money and banking at a fundamental level. My mother wanted her children to be able to manage their own finances. She set us up with bank accounts, both savings and checking, stocks, and savings bonds. She educated us early on about finances, taught us how to write checks, and took me to open my first checking account in sixth grade. Although we were children, she put us in a place where we could save money. We could keep some of the allowances we received, and the rest was deposited. At one point, I would save all my allowance money. So, I learned how to manage money early on.