Sandel climbing in Thailand. David Sandel

The unhappy career

I went to college for electrical engineering. I was in my fifth year of school when it finally dawned on me that I didn't want to be an electrical engineer. However, after accumulating four years of student loans and the promise of a high-paying salary upon graduation, I decided the best course of action was to stick it out, collect the salary, and figure it out later.

During nine years of working in the "real world," I never felt connected to my work or the companies that hired me. How could I? People were getting laid off, I was getting annual raises of 0% to 0.5%, and our company's CEOs were collecting stock options.

I was answering to three managers, two project leaders, and two directors for a single project, and I was the lowest man on the corporate ladder. That's more like nano-management than micromanagement.

Additionally, the work itself wasn't engaging or challenging. Many days I would think to myself: "Why are they paying me this much money to push a button? They could easily train a high-schooler or an intern to do this." Yet there I was, bored to tears.

Every time I thought it would get better, it never did. The only thing that improved was my salary, when I'd leave one company and go to another.

Rinse and repeat three times in nine years.

When you're connected to your work or to the company, there's a possibility it will improve your life overall. But I was unhappy. Not even $90,000 a year at age 31 could buy my happiness. But it did buy me something — the ability to say goodbye.

For my final working year, I lived as cheaply as possible to save up money to buy a van, renovate it, and put enough money away for one year of expenses at my current standard of living.

And then I quit my job.