Two weeks into my first job as an investment banker and I already wanted to quit. I averaged 80 hours both weeks and my VP already chewed me out over a ridiculous formatting issue.

I felt like an idiot. I felt like wasted talent. I couldn’t take it. Why was I here?

I still vividly remember calling my dad on that second Friday. I snuck out of the office mid-afternoon and stood on the Battery Park harbor. I told my dad I needed to quit.

Then, somehow, I completed my two-year analyst stint.

I often felt unhappy during those two years and attributed those feelings to external circumstances — that my bank wasn’t getting enough deal flow, that the hours were too long, and that things could’ve been different had I tried harder in college. But I was wrong. I felt unhappy because I was insecure; insecure because I never defined my values.